Chapter 1

In one of those rare confluences of weather and luck, this weekend, especially Saturday, was shaping up to be prime riding conditions. For a cyclist, a weekend of clear crisp skies, and no wind was nirvana. This was shaping up to be an epic weekend.

Normally, the South Sound Bike Club held its big event training rides on alternate weekends. The purpose of these training rides was to prepare both new and experienced cyclist for the upcoming summer of longer multi-day events, everything from the two-day Seattle to Portland, up to and including the SSBC’s own four-day Cascade Classic in August. The Cascade, or ‘Crashcade’ as veterans of the event called it, was a ride over three mountain passes followed by a final day of rolling terrain riding to form a box route that brought the riders back to their starting point.

The reason it was nicknamed the ‘Crashcade’ was the fact that each day started with a climb up a mountain pass, a great lunch at the summit, and then a descent down the other side of the mountain pass. It was during the descent that most of the accidents happened. Usually, a new rider would get a little too tired and a little too full of themselves and rip off a descent that they couldn’t control. This usually ended in ‘bad things happening’ to the rider in question. This was also the reason that the sports drink that was served, which happened to be fruit punch red, was referred to by old hands as ‘Road Rash Punch’.

Nick and I looked over the herd of new riders and then looked at each other as if to say “WTF?” and then grinning, I stepped into the chaos and shouted to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, if you have all signed in on the waiver form? Great! I’m Nathan, or Nate for short, and I’m one of the ride leaders of the SSBC training series. You are members of the ‘Blue Crew’ which means that we will be riding at a pace of between 16 and 18 miles per hour. I trust that most of you really have no idea what you have gotten yourselves into?” General muttering and a smattering of laughter met this remark. “Okay, here is the drill. First rule, the ride leader is always right and always first in line. Second rule, no one is left behind. My co-leader is Nick over here,” and Nick took a bow, “and Nick will be riding the point today. That means that he will always be on the front. No one should ride ahead of him unless you are in the wrong pace group and want to grab the tail end of the group in front of him, or you really know where you are going and are leaving the group. If you are leaving, make sure Nick knows it. I will be riding the sweep and hang around at the back of our pack. Should you have any sort of mechanical issues, I will try to get you back on the road. If it takes too long for you to sort out your issues, and depending on which is the shortest distance, you may be advised to return to the start point, or call for the broom wagon. Oh, wait, there is no broom wagon on this ride, so you’ll have to call for assistance. Everyone have “AAA”? Okay, one last time, my name is Nate and the point today is Nick. Any questions?”

A young woman in a small knot of young women stuck her hand into the air. “Yes, you in the blue helmet, oh and can you give us your name when you ask a question so that we can start to get to know each other?”

“Nate, I’m Meredith,” she said with a hint of a giggle, “and my question is how far are we going today and what’s the ride like?”

“Good question, Meredith. The ride today is forty miles, and it is on ‘rolling terrain’ just like the web page announcement said it would be. Everybody knows what rolling terrain means, right? It is a code word for more hills that go up than down!” Everybody laughed at that old joke, like I knew they would. “Any other questions?” After a few other procedural questions like “when do we stop for lunch?” or “how far to the first rest stop?” the faster group had already rolled out, so it was our turn to hit the road. As the slower group was also waiting for us to move out, so they could have their brief.

Each of the three pace groups left at ten minute intervals, so that the next slowest group would overtake you if you had to stop for a mechanical, or had selected a pace group that was too fast, and you could ride with them until the next regroup point or through to the end. Nick and I had led these groups for a couple of seasons now, and it was always the same. About a third of the folks that signed in to your group were too fast and ended up nipping at the point rider’s heels all day, and a third were too slow but refused to see it, or had been dragged into the faster group by a stronger riding companion. Normally, after a couple of rides things got pretty much sorted out, and then you could work on offering tips and training ideas to riders that rode well together. Furthermore, friendships were formed and teams were pulled together for the longer rides. Riding a couple of hundred miles on a bike by yourself was pretty lonely and boring work. Riding with friends was much better.

Nick headed out onto the road right on time and the herd struggled to sort themselves out for the first few miles. Generally, we rode in single file, and it always took a bit for everyone to sort themselves into some sort of order on the road. All the faster riders tended to cluster at the front, and spent most of their time jockeying for position right behind the point rider. And the slower ones always climbed slowly and had to be pulled back to the main group, usually by the sweep rider, who today was me.

This wasn’t that bad a deal, since I was a pretty strong rider that could spend all day pulling riders back if I had to. When I had been a racer, that had been my role in the Peloton, spend all day pulling the sprinters and ‘glory boys’ around the countryside and then get dropped at the end by the sprint for the finish. Besides, riding at the back had another side benefit, looking at all the nice firm butts in spandex! Now, don’t get me wrong, here. Not everyone looks good in spandex. In fact, some people defy the laws of physics, and good taste, by jamming a twenty pound loaf of butt into a ten pound spandex bag. Yikes! But, a nice toned female backside in spandex to look at all day long is about all the motivation I need anymore. And it was just my luck that Meredith and her friends seemed quite happy to ride at the back of the pack. There were a total of five of them, all in their mid-twenties and all in pretty good shape. Most of them seemed to know how to ride, to varying degrees, and looked as if the pace was good for them as well. I was settling in to an afternoon of watching firm gluteus move, when the first mechanical of the day happened.