Late to the Party

That sinking feeling ... when you roll into the park where the ride will start and there isn't a cyclist in sight. [Uh oh.]

I'm so accustomed to rides starting at 9:30 a.m., I was running on autopilot. That explains why I happened to notice one of our club members pedaling down a side street as I brushed my teeth this morning. He's getting an early start, I thought. [Nope. He was planning to arrive on time.]

If I'd caught my mistake before heading out, I could have intercepted them en route. [But no.]

I texted my ride buddy and headed for the reservoir; I wasn't planning to ride the steeper sections of today's route, anyway.

After catching her, we rode out past the ever-shrinking Guadalupe Reservoir. Roadwork is in progress (chip-sealing), and I noted that a side road that we “enjoy” climbing [so to speak] was blanketed in a thick layer of gravel.

Having passed a couple of deer on my way to the start, I was wary as I approached the last climb. Good instinct: two more crossed the road ahead of me, then stopped to stare. By the time I fished out my phone to snap a picture, they'd decided to saunter off into the brush.

I finished the ride I'd intended, though not as planned: 23 miles and likely 1,200 feet of climbing.