Had a wonderful turnout on Saturday afternoon under the always shifting skies of Scotland; a big group of us (at least 10, if not more) rolled out with nothing more than good conversation and hopes the rain would stay away. Everyone chatted amicably along the bike path, no crashes, no drama, little head wind all was well for cycling in Scotland. No one was close to getting hit by a car or bus; turns were easy and all the riders fell in line easy. Had some fun little sprints on the way to Tentsmuir, people shooting off left and right with others chasing them down, lots of banter towards a rider who previously had managed to crash while threading through a very wide gate. When we arrived we were all deeply tempted by the barbecues producing delicious smells; perhaps Yogi Bear lives in Tentsmuir and not Jellystone? We turn around and head out, a few miles down the road I begin to wonder where all the responsiveness in my bike has gone. Turns out it went out with all the air in my front tire. After having my ego thoroughly diminished when the new PhD easily rolled the tire bead onto the rim with his bare hands (I still can't figure out how he did it--alas I guess I'm still stuck with levers). Four guys who stuck around to pace me back to the rest of the ride fell into a line and we began to hammer (note: ego booster: having 4 people wait for you on the side of the road, I felt like a regular GC contender). After arriving in town, most riders went their separate ways, but a few of us hung on to add some miles on a simple Kemback loop. A mile past St Andrews, my bike felt awfully spongy. I look down and the only thing preventing a loooooooooooooong stream of creative expletives at this point was the company of others. A borrowed tube and a hand pump later we were on our way; personally I was quite skittish at the surprisingly low amount of air in my rear tire. Hand pumps just don't work. Luckily there were no mishaps and I collapsed when I got home after about 3 hours out in the saddle.
On Sunday (yesterday, at the time of writing) I wanted to do an easy ride. I selected an easy parcours. I told everyone I was doing and easy ride. Rest the legs. Unblock them. Take it easy for the week of pain coming up. It was not to be. Every single time I moved off the front, the pace shot up. Again and again and again. There was no need for this, it was Sunday. God's day of rest. My day of rest. All cyclists' day of rest. And on the 7th Day thou shalt go spinning, as the Aprés Velo 10th Commandment dictates. This is obvious to all of those with even the most basic understanding of group ride etiquette; something that has yet to be widely learned among the cyclists of Britain. If you want to go hard, join a group that goes hard or just go on your own, don't hammer away on someone looking for recovery after a long week with lots of miles in the legs. It's inconsiderate. Perhaps even rude. Especially when the recover-er then has to spend most of the time on the front keeping the pace down, which means he should have just gone on his own anyways. That's my rant. I guess on the positive side of things, I got to take one of my 3 favorite roads in Fife.
Saturday:
Sunday: Largo, Elie, Crail:
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