Commuting home last night:
I had just checked my power output (Am I pushing hard? Yup. Could I push harder? Definately. Am I going to push harder? Nah, 23 MPH is sufficient today.), when I heard another chain slinging through a derailer on my left.
"Hey man!", said a tall, long-haired hippy as he passed by me.
"Hey there." I responded, quickly checking the composure of my competitor. (He qualified as a competitor the moment he chose to pass.) Short sleeve button-down shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals(?). The cuff-saver on his bike indicated 'old-school' and it appeared to be a sturdy steel frame, but I didn't catch the brand - distracted by the fact that such an individual would actually be wearing a helmet. Involuntarily my mind thought 'Rabit!', and I increased my efforts to match his speed.
This guy was focused ahead and intent on burning me. Here I was dressed to the hilt in performance clothing, attached to the pedals of my shiny carbon fiber road bike, gleaning info from my gps computer - by appearance, a true-blue cyclist. The hippy knew his advantage, and played it well. Immediately pulling a gap between us, he pedaled seemingly effortlessly forward, dodging a slowing car without being phased. Within 2 short blocks, he was far enough ahead to catch a yellow light that I missed. I was appropriately put in my place!
On the green light I decided to push it because I really wanted to see this guy race up Nemesis hill (a 1/4-mile slog between 8% and 10%). As I approached the toe of the hill he was already cresting it, standing up with good form.
When I recently picked up my new bike I conceded that it was officially above my abilities. Now I know it's true. I've got some work to do.
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