Built Like an Anchor Man

I made my first mistake by e-mailing Warren this afternoon when he posted a comment on yesterday's blog post. I decided to amuse him by writing him my riding plans, asking his and suggesting to maybe hook up. I never thought he'd go for it. Alas, I was wrong. He was all over the idea of riding together.

I think he was having a bad day at the office and having no dog at home to kick, I became the whipping boy. I've known Warren for quite a few years, but today was the first time I saw him in a different light. I've always placed Warren on the proverbial pedestal - a super nice, down to earth, do anything for you kind of guy. Today was different. He reminded me of the the kid who sits in a darkened room and tortures flies . . . slowly picking off their wings . . . . taking enjoyment in their suffering. Yes, today was different indeed.

Warren must be sick like that - why else would he ride with me? His plan, somewhere deep behind his blackened beady little eyes, was to have fun while watching me hurt. And hurt I did.

Warren (left) and his buddy Mark took it easy, real easy on me, as I tried to keep up on their recovery ride.

Apparently these two were in a bit of a hammer fest Tuesday night and weren't looking to go too hard. I'm telling you, what a humbling experience. These guys race Senior Cat 1 & 2 - one is a sprinter/TT specialist ('08 Canadian Masters 30-39 yrs TT National Champion) and the other is built to climb. Me on the other hand, am more built like the anchor man on a tug-of-war team. I had no place out there riding with them.

At one point the pace had slowed down and I jokingly said, "What' with this pace!?! Let's pick it up a bit!" And here's where roadies have no sense of humor . . . . Mark looked over at me straight faced, very well knowing that I was hurting and said, "You want to go faster?" And without letting me answer, because boy-o-boy did I have an answer, he was moving to take the lead.

Seemed Mark must of had a bad day at the office as well. Perhaps they corresponded throughout the day with each other, weaving their plan to take turns beating me over the head with my own legs?

It was like watching a finely orchestrated fight scene in a marital arts movie. Mark passed Warren, said that I wanted to go faster (wtf?! can't you take a joke?) , and then he put the hammer down. Warren tucked in behind and we were gone. To my surprise I was actually able to hang with them. The pace was quickening, it was starting to hurt, but I was hanging. "Look at me! I'm riding with the big boys." We were cruising along at 45km/hr and into a 15km/hr headwind (do the math - we were like doing 100km/hr) and sticking to it along a straight stretch. At one point I even, just for a split second, thought to myself that I should really be road riding, that I had talent and fitness. Look at me - I was sitting on these muther fuggin fast guy's wheels. Whoot!

Then the road started to rise . . . .

No sooner had the thought of turning pro gone through my pea sized brain when I was shot out the back faster than a 35lb shell leaving a howitzer. KAAA-PLOO-EEEEE!

Proof: See, I did ride with them. Mostly I drafted off them.

Lesson learned, don't joke around with roadies. Maybe that's why they never wave to each other in the park, they're all about business.

I've got to give them credit, and patience, for letting me ride with them. It was actually fun, I learned a couple of things, and what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger.

I'd love to hook up with them once a week or every other week (wouldn't want them to lose all their fitness) cause that kind of riding is only going to make me faster. You know what they say, if you want to get fast, ride with faster riders!

Licking my wounds, I thanked the boys for the thrashing and left Warren and Mark at the Cedarview turn off and headed for home.