November 12, 2011
Randonneuring is not a race.
Friendly camaraderie, not competition, is the hallmark of randonneuring.
I tried to keep my growing desperation and disappointment out of my voice.
"Joe, I really appreciate your riding with me and all the pulling you've done. But if you want to go ahead, I understand." It was my attempt at a "leave me here, save yourself" offer.
We were approaching 100 miles in what would have been a personal best century time for me when a left turn put us back into a stiff unrelenting headwind for the umpteenth time. This time, I couldn't hold the pace. I was bonking and cramping and the freaking WIND was IN. MY. FACE. AGAIN!!
Over thirty miles left. Riding a fixie for the first time on a brevet didn't help. No gears to change and no coasting. Go or no go. Those were the choices. I steeled myself to suffer through the end of the ride alone. And the day had started so innocently . . .
