Roadie Virgin No More

Joined my first ever proper roadie group ride on Monday. Real, card-carrying roadies with matching bib shorts and jerseys and slogans written on their butts. None of us MTBers posing around on skinny tires this time. (Except me, of course.) Intimidating before the ride, as hordes of people arrived for the start, apparently having stepped directly out of catalogs and magazines. Someone said 30-plus in attendance. Almost ran away, but steeled myself for a thrashing. I already survive a variety of humiliations; what's one more? First conversational exchange I had started off with a guy pointing out that I had hay sticking out of my helmet. He didn't mention the dried mud on my beat-up shoes, but I'll bet he noticed it. Very interesting cultural experience. Fun. Easy at first, then harder near the end as the novelty of serious drafting effects wore off and folks started turning up the heat. At one point as I realized I was working awfully darn hard all of a sudden, I looked down - very quickly, so as not to cause a disaster - at the cyclometer. 31mph on the flats! Good thing I didn't take the big ring off the road bike, huh? I didn't get dropped, though. I would do it again. Maybe wear the leg and arm pads next time, just to see what people would say.