Actually it was a bit tiring, probably finally falling asleep the prior night around 4am for a variety of reasons, not a small part of which had been Kevin’s kidney stones that had cast me in the role of a bad father because I wouldn’t take him to the emergency room for pain meds. The thinking was that, at 11pm, we’d be there for 3 hours minimum, leaving no earlier than 2am, and past history, which replayed according to plan, would have the worst of it over by 1am anyway. It’s just not a lot of fun, seeing your kid in pain like that.
Even though Kevin got more sleep than I did, I was nice and didn’t try to haul him out on the ride. Instead I went through the motions, the same motions I’ve done many hundreds of times before, meet up with Karl, Eric, Nigel and Marcus and head up to Skyline. Since it was a Thursday we went up through the park, and my barely-under-29-minute time was perfectly satisfactory (to me). Nigel actually turned back before getting halfway up the hill, feeling like he just didn’t have it in him today. But for me, well, I just kept going, one foot after the other.
Everything was going nicely until West Old LaHonda, where I got one of my exceptionally-rare flat tires. A flat tire that took longer to take care of than it should have because the first time I inflated it, the removable valve core unscrewed, letting out all the air. No fun! But 10 minutes later we were back on our way.
Just to be clear, given the choice, I’d rather be able to ride with a reasonable amount of sleep than without.
excuse me for muscling in on your blog with a slightly off-topic rant:
today climbing arestradero southbound, i’d seen a rider crowding me from behind. so what. but then he passed and cut in front of me so closely he nearly clipped my wheel.
i cursed him.
you’d expect perhaps he’d curse me back. or maybe miracle of miracles, apologise.
not this pinhead: he went ballistic. cursed. yelled at me to get off my bike and
fight him. he was a big bruiser – no way i was going to do that. he got worse, cursing me for riding a fixed gear, boasting how he was two-time national sprint champion.
then off he clopped. not far enough, though.
at the top of the hill, he was waiting for me. he’d gotten off his bike and still cursing away, yelling he was going to knock me off my bike. i debated giving it the gun and running right into him but swerved around instead. he shoved me in the kidneys but not hard enough to knock me down.
right. enough of this: i pulled over and hauled out my phone to call the cops. he got back on his bike and clopped off again, still cursing away.
reason for posting this here is you have a wide audience in the cycling fraternity and perhaps someone can identify my assailant. whoever he is, he needs to be turfed off whatever team sponsors him. i want to know who sponsors him so i can ensure i don’t give them any business for allowing such an insane thug loose on the roads.
thanks for reading
Henry: What have you got to identify this dweeb? What jersey was he wearing, what type of bike? Sounds like a real bone-head, but the fact that he actually shoved you is disturbing. Anyway, get me some more info and maybe someone will have a clue who he might be. Thanks, –Mike–
hey mike: almost nothing. he was wearing a generic white jersey. there were stripes or some other markings but not anything i recall clearly and definitely not some team colours. his bike was also generic. all i remember was white and green.
i should have taken his picture when i pulled out my phone, but i wasn’t thinking very clearly – gave me quite a fright dealing with this thug.
thanks