Ugh. Tonight’s Wednesday night ride was awful. It’s hard to say that about any ride, since it’s far better to be having a bad day on the bike than a good day at work. This Wednesday I had both.
After an extremely crazy, short-handed busy nutty day, where I sold over $5,000 of bikes and gear to TriWomen before noon, and the pace got even crazier later, I was pretty wrecked. It’s hard to get on the bike after a day like that, when I’ve only drunk a few sips of water and eaten only half a sandwich. I was already operating on a sleep deficit, which didn’t help. The first climb was tough, but I was able to spin fast and keep in close contact to the guys who chose to hammer up the first climb. Knowing that the pack would regroup at the top, I used Deer Path Road as a steady warm-up, not killing myself.
Whew. I needed every bit of strength later. The pace was high, and some big guns were present. Super Mario was riding well, Peter Louie was pushing the pace, Mark Scott’s asthma medication was working wonders and he was breathing easy, and even Sam, who had worked all night on an electrical job with Trey Fox was riding strongly, 90% adrenaline, I’m sure. We cranked west, jammed up Mt. Bethel, kept a fast steady pace along Reinman and down Stirlling Road, then climbed Johnston Drive for the first time this year. Surprisingly, we kept it together, with the fastest guys only topping out 30 seconds before the last guys.
After bombing down Bonnie Burn Road and motoring through Scotch Plains, we were all trying to set ourselves up for the sprint. We topped the hill by Scotch Hills Golf Course and I moved to the front to keep the pace high. Sam spun up next to me, then Mario launched one of his patented superfast sprints that starts and ends half a mile too early. We caught up to him right away, then rounded the corner onto Prospect St., then made the left at Franklin Elementary School as we overtook Roger and José, who had gotten dropped earlier and took a shortcut home. We revved up the pace as we approached the corner of Elm St, Sam leading me out beautifully into the sprint lane. Amazingly, I was recovered, feeling supercharged, and ready to cut loose with some serious speed.
However, two cars were speeding down Elm in the opposite direction, way too fast, cutting into the corner very aggressively. Sam saw them coming and tried to cut the turn sharper, causing his rear wheel to skid out. He hit the ground hard and slid across the road, nearly getting hit by a speeding car. Roger, who was on the far left side of the road, veered right to avoid the cars, crashed into my rear wheel, then ricocheted into Sam’s crashed bike, which caused him to smash headfirst into the asphalt. His helmet absorbed the impact, although his glasses shattered, leaving his nose a bloody mess. Thankfully, he was alright. So was Sam, aside from some nasty abrasions. It was kinda like this.
The worst casualty of the accident was my new Tarmac Pro. Roger hit me so solidly that he broke one of the spokes on my rear Roval Star Fuseé wheel. When we got back to the shop, I noticed that the left seatstay was cracked all the way through, as well. He hit me hard enough to knock my bike sideways at 30 mph, and even though I managed to stay upright, the frame wasn’t designed to take that kind of hit. I’m going to have to look into the Specialized crash replacement policy for frames. Hopefully, I can be back on track soon. It breaks my heart - this is my favorite bike ever.
Probably the only news that is more depressing is the budget cuts that Governor Corzine is enforcing. Most of the New Jersey State Parks will be shut down. As always, the parks that will be affected are the ones that have the best mountain biking: Round Valley, Ringwood, Allaire. Send Governor Corzine an e-mail with your thoughts. Honestly, if it meant paying a $15 entrance fee to use the parks, that would be fine. Having this green space nearby is the only reason that I can tolerate living in New Jersey. Take away one of the perks, and there is not really any compelling reason to keep paying ridiculous property taxes just to live in this country club known as New Jersey.
Of course, BikeSnobNYC made me laugh, so the rest of the BS is forgotten. Live action photos of the Paris-Roubaix classic.
All this makes me wish I was in France.
Tornado Tom has never been to west Texas - that’s the perfect training ground for the Paris-Roubaix cobbles. Tom, next year give me a call . . . we’ll have our own little training camp outside Brownfield, TX. Highway 380 . . . that’s all I have to say.
