Yesterday, April 30, was the Princeton Freewheelers Spring Fling: rides at all paces at 9:30 am, then lunch, and awards and announcements. I did a 40-mile-or-so ride with Our Lady of Perpetual Headwinds, with her usual combination of decent hills, pretty vistas, and a good place to stop for coffee. There was a fellow rider in that group, who had been thinking of moving up from his "B" pace to a "B+"... but the B+ rides have a reputation for pacing faster and faster, especially as the season progresses. I was able to tell him about a leader who does Sunday B+ rides who maintains a B+ average pace, and I think I'll see this new guy on some of those rides; he appeared interested.
Today was the Tour de Franklin, and I went for the 62-mile metric century, my first of the season. The weather was great, which, I'm sure, affects my attitude, but it's also true that this ride was pleasant and well-organized; I'm planning on doing it again, and seeing if we can get a team. I'm disgustingly proud that, even though I got lost twice and did more like 64 than 62 miles, I turned in a not-shabby time of 3:44:16, with an average speed of 17.1 (and a top speed of 37 on a screaming, long downhill!). I didn't eat enough, and was sufferin' by the end of the ride, but as luck would have it, I found a companion along the way...
Shortly after the 30-mile SAG stop, I saw a rider stranded by the side of the road, and asked if he needed help. In heavily-accented, barely-understandable English, he asked if I had a chain tool. I did; I carry the Crank Bros. M-19 multi-tool (it comes with a flask, but throw that away; it's just another thing to carry). I lent it to him, and he tells me he'll find me at the end of the ride, but there's no need for that: I can wait for it (besides, how do I know he'll really give it back?). In a matter of moments, he's fixed his chain, and we're riding together. Of COURSE he's Polish (people who know me know that my wife's family is Polish: frightening work ethic, feed-you-until-you-can't-move Polish). In fact, he's part of a group of four other riders who are all Polish: they only ride on Sundays, because they all work a gajillion hours per week (well, DUH!) His English is bad because he works in a machine shop where everybody speaks Polish, and goes to Polish masses in Manville. I tell him about my wife, and we have a bit of difficulty because of the language barrier, but he decides her family is from Lublin (I don't know, but that's where she's going to a language-immersion-experience this summer) and we talk about things Polish and bicycle all the way back, including the last 10-12 miles when I was starting to sag. When we got back to the start for lunch, there are his companions: one wearing the current Polish team jersey, another wearing the Polish Postal jersey, and he points out that he's wearing another version of the Polish team jersey (how proud they are of their heritage!) He promised to email me a picture; I'll post it if it comes.
I'm home now, and eating everything except the curtain rods. I gotta remember to eat more when I'm doin' these long days. But today was a good one. Tomorrow, back to work to earn cash and time to enjoy days like today.
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