Not a Fred

...our moves mirrored each other's, increasing in intensity and slowing now and again, but always steady. He knew his lines and how to find the sweet spot, and we cut through the chaos easily. It was effortless.

A girl appreciates a guy who can give her a great draft.

It's the thing I miss most about road racing and training: riding with someone (anyone!) who knows how to be part of a whole, have a common purpose, be better together than we are alone.

I haven't quite adjusted to the haphazard way of recreational cyclists. I have learned to have no expectations, however, and have discovered that instead of sticking to a wheel for the sake of sticking, it's best to maintain my line and pace regardless of what's going on around -- the fred ahead will create a gap because he'll decide to jump out front for no discernable reason, and always there will be another fred to unknowingly slide right in. Fred doesn't get that he's doing a helluvalot of work and is saving MY legs for the hills meaning he gets toasted by a girl. Neither does fred understand connection and common purpose. It's chaos. Riders surging and slowing. Bicycles zagging side to side.

Some sort of zen brought the two of us together...yah, that or plain observation. He was fluid, sure, aware. I tucked into the pocket behind him and knew his moves. And I stuck.

What a ride...oh baby.

- TOB needs a cigarette