Yes, point to me (even though your mother taught you to never do such things) and say, “Liar.”
My explanation, not excuse, follows.
Last summer, Jan and I did a charity ride that included a stretch of road that I thought was unwarranted. My opinion in itself is not unusual. All of us are riders of different abilities and I happened to feel that doing a 6-7% climb after thirty miles in the heat was not necessary. I determined never to do that section of FR193 again.
So much for my opinion.
So much for my determination.
Saturday’s ride was all about friendship. I joined Mike and Tracy (nicknamed Hammer and Anvil) and we left from Tracy’s home for a run out to Rogersville and back.
Silly me, I expected the same route as last time. But when Tracy mentioned going down by James River and crossing Kinser Bridge, my eyes narrowed. Down means Up and just about the only way up from Kinser Bridge is on FR193. My previous determination lay in ashes under my wheels.
I was now a Liar.
Therefore, I had to repent, but not yet. We were soon down the road pushing 30+ mph. So soon would this fleeting moment be history and the real work begun.
The climb came and went (I dismiss with derision all further mention of FR193) and we found ourselves bisecting green fields, some with wild turkeys. I didn’t see them as I kept my eyes on the pavement stretching off into the distance. Staying with my partners had turned into a full time job. (Later, Jan thought it was good that I was pushed by these guys. I concur.)
After a break at Rogersville we turned for home. I had taken my camera, but found myself more occupied with my pedal stroke than with the scenery. Keeping my cadence up and my heels down helped keep me close, and Tracy does a better job with pictures which can be viewed here.
Time with these riders is well spent. They climb with ease and on the flats they can be like jackrabbits. Close in to Rogersville I tried and failed to hold onto Mike’s wheel. I just watched him ride away. Maybe some day, good friends.