Fat kid on a white bike meets club riders

Today, I biked another eight miles. It used to be 10, but I got out of shape. There’s a huge hill I can only just make it up, and the only reason I make it back alive – for now – is the big downhill afterward that gives me a chance to catch my breath and cool down.

On the last leg of my exercise loop, I looked up and noticed a group of spandex-clad cyclists turning onto the road. Suddenly, I was in the middle of someone else’s club ride. Me with the tennis shoes and toe clips, and the spandex Slipstream team jersey (which some riders hate, but honestly guys, I look at it like I’m a guy in Citizen’s Bank Park wearing a Victorino jersey, or in the Wachovia Center with a Smith jersey on.) and a whole lot of F A T.

But I hung in there, not joining the break group in front of me, but not letting the rest catch me. I stayed about ten feet off the wheel of the guy in front of me – I didn’t want to be rude, and I’ll admit it, I was worried they’d laugh at me or something.

However, what a world of good it did to have that pack of riders in my sights! Now I understand why time trialing is a specialty, because it’s super hard to motivate yourself when it’s just you and a wall of pavement climbing over your head and out of sight. But these guys gave me a goal, and I have to say, I wasn’t doing so bad compared to them (Caveat: I have no idea where they were going or from where they came. They could have been on the tail end of a century for all I know.). I know inwpuldnt have pushed myself that hard toward the end if it was just me out there.

This was the first time I’d ridden with anyone. Fun stuff. Too bad all the other road cyclists I know would leave me in the dust for sure…

So, anonymous club ride: Here’s hoping you’ll be there Thursday at about the same time. And please, don’t laugh at me.