If you cycle or if you’ve seen cyclists, then you know that cyclists typically ride in groups – sometimes of only 2 or 3, other times of 20, 30 or more.
And, then there’s me. I don’t ride with other people.
Ever.
I do all of my training rides solo: just me, the velo and miles of open road.
Oh, if it were only that romantic! But it’s not. In reality, it’s holding me back from reaching my potential.
While going solo is good for mental toughness, solitary cycling for every ride is not necessarily the road to success, particularly if you are someone who needs to improve bike handling skills or if you want to be pushed past your comfort zone.
Check on both counts.
While my performance did improve this year, it still isn’t where I want it. It’s clear I’ve taken myself as far as I can go alone.
It’s time to get a little help from my friends.
My friend Patti, an accomplished triathlete, knows my struggles with cycling. Over the past year, she has asked numerous times if I want ride with her.
Each time, I came up with some stupid reason why I couldn’t do it. After one of my refusals, she called my bluff and sent me a text that read: “Chicken, bawk! bawk!”
Patti isn’t afraid to give me some tough love.
After IMLP this year, it became obvious that if I hope to translate the power I can generate on the CompuTrainer to the open road, I have to start riding with other riders, from whom I can learn the tricks of the road.
So, when Patti texted me last Sunday night, asking if I wanted to go for “the second annual ride to almost-Cape May” ride with a group of her tri friends, I knew this was the time to get over my stupid fears and say yes.
She told me that it would be an easy, fun ride.
The route for the day would take us from Patti’s neighborhood in Linwood, into Ocean City, NJ where we would pick up and follow along Ocean Drive, which extends into Cape May, NJ. We would not be going as far as Cape May, but would turn around in Wildwood, for a total ride of 64 miles.
I was familiar with this route, having run the Ocean Drive Marathon in 2009 (a great race), and the Cape to Gate Relay this past winter.
Sounded perfect as an introduction to riding with others.
Even so, the worries started almost immediately: Would I be able to keep up? Will I be able to signal? What’s the etiquette for leading? For following? and on and on. You would have thought I had never sat on a bike before.
Doubt. I’m loaded down with it when it comes to cycling.
So, when I showed up at Patti’s house on Tuesday morning, I was nervous, and she knew it. Later on that day, she told me, “When I saw your face when you got out of the car, I realized – hey, she’s nervous!”
That’s probably why, just a few minutes into the ride, Patti dropped back to make sure I would be okay.
“You can take your hands off the handlebars, right?” She asked. “You can get your water or whatever?”
I laughed, “Oh, yeah. I’m not that bad.” And, then I remembered a time, not too long ago, when I was that bad.
She also cautioned me that there were a few spots on the route where there would be tight traffic.
I put on my bravest face, smiled big, and said, “Don’t worry about me – I’ll be fine. This is what I have to do if I want to get better.”
My performance of confidence seemed to satisfy her, as she scooted back to the front. There were only three of us: Patti, Michelle, who used to be a spin instructor I would take classes with, and myself. Some of the other women had dropped out due to schedule conflicts and concerns about the rain forecast for the day.
With only 3 of us, I realized that the “fun and easy” part might be going by the wayside. I tried to ignore the doubts that wanted to convince me that I couldn’t keep up.
You just did an Ironman, for goodness sakes! You WILL keep up. 
The first few miles of the ride, out of Patti’s neighborhood, were nice and easy, as promised. It was a bit like a game of Paper Boy, as we had to avoid traffic, a high school football team that was running en masse, other people on their bikes riding on the wrong side of the road, potholes, and so on. But, once we got out of the neighborhood, and the congestion cleared, we started to pick up the pace, as we headed into Ocean City.
Challenge #1: The Ocean City Bridge.
Okay, last week, I wrote about the busy, but short, bridges that don’t work so great for hill repeats. Well, we were about to cross over one of those. Thankfully, there is a nice wide shoulder on this particular bridge, but as you come down to the bottom, you have to scoot past a toll booth.
But, really, this wasn’t nothing but a thing. Yes, Patti and Michelle went down faster, but it wasn’t like I was miles behind. I didn’t pedal, but I didn’t hit my brakes.
Challenge met.
Challenge #2: Take the lead.
Now, it was time to play a little bit more of Paper Boy, as the first few miles in Ocean City were congested with traffic. This was compounded by the fact that I was still getting my head wrapped around the idea of staying on someone’s wheel–which I did not do so well. I didn’t quite have 3 bike lengths, as if I were racing, but there was definitely about a wheel’s space between Michelle and me. Despite eschewing a bit of my drafting advantage, I was able to keep up, and we were doing about 18-20 mph through the streets of Ocean City. Not a slow pace, by my standards!
Patti and Michelle took their turns at the lead, and then I began to fret: Oh, it’s my turn, I guess. Will I be fast enough? What’s the etiquette? Do I just go to the front and hang there?
At this point, I had stayed in the caboose, not having moved to the middle after Patti dropped back the first time. While I was in the middle of wondering about how to get to the front, Patti dropped back behind me, and then Michelle. I was in the front.
Gulp.
Okay: just don’t slow down. And, hand signals? What about those?
But, as I moved into the front, my focus moved away from wondering about what I would do, to just doing it. Pot hole, oh, there it is, I pointed with my right hand.
Red light? No worries. I gave the girls a signal with my hand that I would be slowing down.
“That’s it, good!” Patti yelled from the back. She knew this whole time I was nervous, but rather than call attention to it, she just nudged me to the front, and then gave me plenty of positive reinforcement. I couldn’t have asked for a better “coach.”
Challenge met.
Challenge #3: The Grid
Coming off two successes, I was immediately confronted by a third challenge: a steel grid bridge deck. Last year, I had slipped on one of these puppies on a rainy day, and crashed hard, slicing open my leg and hands. They DO NOT feel good when you fall on them.
Not. At. All.
One of the bruises was like a fourth of July firework display, all over my hip.
Since that crash, I have always carefully unclipped and walked my bike across. Well, I realized immediately that would not be an option today.
Now, the rational part of my brain realizes that I crashed that day only because it was wet. I had crossed steel grid bridges many times before without slipping–southern New Jersey has many little bridges that cross the various tributaries from the bay and the rivers.
But, the emotional side of my brain only registered fear of falling, and so I never forced myself to cross one of these danger traps. Until now.
As we neared the grid, the doubts were creating a cacophony of nagging thoughts. Relax. Breathe. Relax. Breathe. I repeated.
Just as we were about to cross onto the grid section, which was maybe all of 20 feet–at the most–a poop truck had stopped on the grid to clean out the bridge house. So, now, we had to navigate around a sewer truck, onto the opposite side of the road, while riding over a steel grid bridge deck.
Was this some type of sick, twisted and smelly test or what?
The good news: I passed!
With each new challenge, I was feeling more and more confident. By the time we got to Sea Isle, where there was dense packets of traffic and retail shops, I was feeling like a seasoned pro, skirting around cars, watching out for parked motorists who might open their car doors at any moment, and balancing on my pedals as we came almost to a stop, waiting out some of the lights.
I was a professional paper boy — err, girl.
After leaving Sea Isle and Avalon, the Ocean Drive opens up to some beautiful scenery, with marsh lands surrounding us to the left and the right. Here we really pushed the pace.
I thought to myself, Wow! Is this Patti’s easy pace?
When we slowed, I asked her.
“Please tell me this isn’t your easy pace,” I huffed.
“No, I’m pushing it,” she assured me. I have to admit: it felt good to push. It felt even better knowing I could keep up.
When we arrived in Wildwood, we stopped at a restaurant for a snack. And, I realized: I was having fun.
There were opportunities to push hard and to take it easy, other opportunities to practice my handling, and other opportunities still to extend past my comfort zone, finding new abilities I didn’t realize I had.
After our short break, we headed back on the road. As we looked to the north, we could see the thunderstorms growing. But, they were off in the distance, and it was still sunny where we were. Even so, we realized we should up the pace if we hoped to beat the rain.
Challenge #4: Closing the Gap
At one point, Michelle got a little behind us. I shouted to Patti that Michelle fell off the back, but she didn’t heard me. I slowed down, and figured I would pick Michelle up, and then we’d push to catch back up with Patti.
As Michelle caught back up to me, she said, “Thanks so much! I’m having a hard time, I feel like I can’t get my legs to move.”
I remembered a time two years ago, when I first started riding. I went out with John and our friend Dave. I had fallen off the back, and felt the way Michelle must have been feeling. I just couldn’t close the gap. Dave slowed up, and I was so relieved to have the help that day.
I realized in that moment how very far I’ve come since March 2009, which was the first time I tried a road bike. Yes, I’ve got a long way to go still. There are times when I feel like I haven’t gotten any better at all. This day, this moment was a gift of remembrance.
Challenge #5: The rain
As we returned to the south end of Ocean City, the rain drops started to fall. They were ever so light and subtle at first. And, then, there was a deluge. The road became streaked with water, and cars splashed us with road scum.
Somewhere along the way, we picked up another rider who was trying to get home. He was nice enough, but he kept riding on my side, which I didn’t like very much. It was raining, there was traffic, and I didn’t know who he was. Ride single file, guy!
As the rain slowed, I heard a sound: “Pfffft…”
Hmm, that sounds like air coming out of a tire…
It was–Michelle’s tire. We stopped while Michelle fixed her flat, and Patti gave me more confidence boosts: “You are really strong, girl.”
“Thanks, but you are so fast! I’m not that fast,” I replied.
“Yes, you are. We just have to get you a set of balls,” she answered. While courage would be useful to me, it wouldn’t change the fact that Patti is F.A.S.T.=Fast Ass Super Triathlete.
We got back on the road, and made it back to Patti’s house, just as the really serious thunderstorms started to settle in. I was wet and whupped, but happy.
This ride was a special gift, and I hope Patti knows just how much I appreciate her patience and belief in me. She’s given me the faith to start believing in myself. I’m so deeply grateful for this help from my friend.
