The Descender

“That lady is fast!”

“She's a descender,” our ride leader replied.

We had been ready to move on after the last rider had regrouped, and there had been some chatter about who should go first. [I took off.]

I was puttering about at home this morning when I realized that today's ride would start at 9:00 a.m, not the 9:30 a.m. I had in my head. I scrambled to get myself together and pushed a fast pace to the start. Not the easy warm-up I'd planned, given that I'm slowly recovering from last Saturday's blood donation (my 77th!).

I rolled up at 8:45 a.m. and ... no one else was there, yet.

We enjoyed our snacks under the redwoods at Uvas Canyon County Park after climbing up Croy Road. The road had been damaged one winter, and somehow I haven't visited in more than three years.

There was some chatter about who should go first. [I took off. Again.]

One must always take care on the bumpy and rutted section through Sveadal, but after that ... well, the bike is fast. A little faster than I'd like, I was thinking, as I rounded a curve. I reminded myself that it was fine. Just fine.

The rollers slowed me down, and another rider caught up. “You're fast, downhill!” [And slow, uphill.] “And you're good!” Yeah, that takes 'em by surprise, since I'm nearly always off the back otherwise.

Somehow, we had headwind in both directions, which isn't fair! After I got home, I realized I needed to run an errand, and the obvious solution was to get back on the bike. [Eh, it was a flat few more miles.] For the day, 58 miles with 2,090 feet of uphill (and downhill!).

The Goldilocks Ride

I wasn't enthused about the challenging rides on offer today. One was too far away. One was too much like my commute. One was too steep.

One seemed just right: an easy ride with a leader I didn't know, who happens to lead a lot of rides. (Seventy-one this year, including today's.)

I knew it would be short, and I wanted to avoid the regular weekend traffic snarl, so I biked to the start.

The bike lane near the hockey arena (San Jose Sharks) made me smile. How many levels of approval did it take for that? [Maybe none?]

Our small group puttered down the Guadalupe River Trail, exiting for a coffee stop.

After which, well, things pretty much fell apart.

Our ride leader was certain that something had fallen out of her saddle bag and was determined to circle back on the route to look for it. She waved the rest of us forward, to continue on our own.

Without a route sheet.

I stayed with one guy who said he knew how to get back to the park in Willow Glen where we'd started. [Except that ... he didn't actually know.]

Lost in a maze of residential streets, we needed to find a route across the creek. [I pulled out my phone, which he characterized as “cheating.”] But I wanted to get home in time to get cleaned up and head over to the blood center to donate before they closed for the day.

A flat 40 miles, with a mere 440 feet of climbing (including one more wrong turn, my fault).

As it turned out, my timing was just right: The blood center staff had finally overcome some technical (computer system) difficulties that had caused them to turn away walk-ins most of the day. Donation, done!