Cycling Wars

Yesterday afternoon's weather turned out much nicer than originally forecast so my husband and I couldn't resist a short bike ride. We had spend a lazy afternoon watching a Yankee baseball game while the girls flitted in and out of the house so we were ready for a little physical activity. My husband hasn't ridden much this year and was content to ease himself in with a short ride. I, having ridden quite a bit this past week and still a little sore from Friday's challenging ride, agreed and we decided to take a leisurely turn on what we call "the airport loop," a six-mile course that begins abour three miles from our house. Altogether 12 miles - a fine hour's work.

And so we began. Larry hasn't checked out his road bike yet this spring so he opted to ride his mountain bike. He often does that when he rides with me anyway since I ride a hybrid and the mountain bike evens us up a bit. My female quads really can't compete with his male ones - that's just biological fact.

Larry actually took off before me, needing the head start, but we met at the beginning of the airport loop and from there my lighter bike and better conditioning helped me to stay a bit ahead much of the first leg of the loop. Around here there is no such thing as a flat - even the sections of road that look flat are false flats - so the first part of this route consists of rolling uphills and downhills. After a couple of miles we enter a section where the hills are steeper and longer. It was near the entrance to this section where we spotted another cyclist. He was dogging it up the last not-too-steep but long uphill before the more challenging leg. I felt a little competitive surge and decided to shift into a higher gear so as to get more power from my pedaling. Behind me I sensed Larry do the same. Larry caught up to and passed me, then passed the other rider just after he had turned onto the road of which the rest of the loop consists.

That the other rider was surprised was clear - he obviously hadn't realized we were anywhere near him. Later Larry told me the other cyclist had passed him while he was waiting for me at the start of the route - I'm sure that provided much of Larry's incentive.

Then I passed The Foe. In hindsight we think this was the insult that demanded a response. The poor guy probably could accept Larry's passing him - they were both riding mountain bikes and he was a taller, sturdier guy than Larry, who is of average height and wiry. But a woman! At that point I was just trying to prove to myself that I could take this guy without too much effort and also not fall too far behind Larry. After all, I was out riding with my husband so I didn't want this other guy between us the whole way. As far as I was concerned, the contest was over after I passed him and settled back into a leisurely ride.

It was not to be. About half a mile up the road Larry and I were the ones surprised when The Foe caught up to us and passed. I could almost hear the war drums beating in Larry's ears. From his short distance behind me, where he usually rides, he shot out into the road and passed me. We were starting a downhill section so The Foe was already half a football field away. Larry poured it on while I decided to opt out of the competition. This was a guy thing, I told myself, a pissing match. I would watch in amusement from the safe perch of my girl's bike.

It didn't take Larry long to catch up to The Foe. My husband is in good shape even when he's not in great shape and he likes to let other guys know he can handle them on a bicycle. I grinned and silently cheered when he pulled out and passed on the left. They were beginning a steep uphill and I knew Larry had won this particular contest - as a Tour de France enthusiast he likes to say the hills are where you make your money. I wasn't sure when we would ride together again, since he obviously wasn't about to slow down any time soon, but that was okay. I'm a big girl and could ride by myself.

But soon my inner guy started to rear his handsome head. We were still climbing the hill and it was obvious that The Foe was dogging it again. As hills go this particular one was tough but not the toughest of the hills I climb regularly, not by a long shot. My inner guy was telling me I could take this guy too.

I did, of course - otherwise this story might not be so much worth telling. I smiled pleasantly as I passed, without a hint of the triumph I was feeling nor the pride that would propel me the rest of the route without stopping for so much as a sip of water. Larry was pleased when I caught up to him but informed me that The Foe was still coming on so we kept pushing hard. He was within sight as we started down a long hill which is followed by a long and steep uphill. It was here Larry declared us safe from the Foe's advances - this was the toughest hill on the route and we knew he couldn't handle it. We had won!

In fact, we never saw him again - he never even got close. Of course, the poor guy might not have even known we were racing, but I think he did. After all, he looked the part of serious cyclist in his cycling shorts and fancy jersey, a camelback supplying his water needs. We, wearing gym shorts and t-shirts, looked like a couple of amateurs. The Foe may have thought we had thrown down the gauntlet on that first pass. He took one look at us and decided we were upstarts who needed to be taught a lesson. He underestimated us - big mistake.

Still, he might just have been out for a leisurely ride. For that matter, so were we. Testosterone happens.