There's something about the first nice-weather-fast-group-ride of the year. All week long, the forecast called for sunny skies and temps in the 60s. By Thursday, the forecast was even better: mid 70s. Booyah! No layers of clothes, no knee warmers!
E-mails and text messages were flying back and forth all week long.
Like a little girl in Spring. Going to bed on Friday, I felt like I was 8 years old and going on vacation the next day. Legs all fidgety, can't fall asleep, and waking up looking at the clock to see if I could get up yet. Ridiculous, I know.
And then its time. I know the group's going to be big because I pick up 2-3 other riders on the way to the start. The group is big, the biggest so far this season, 40+ riders. For some it's their first big ride of the season. For others it is just another Saturday. I can't explain it, but something feels different.
The ride rolls out, slow. Casual conversation, catching up with some people I haven't seen since the last time it was this warm: October. 5 or 6 miles in and someone goes. Then another. Then a line starts to my left, moving fast- that's got my name written all over it and we're off. The pace doesn't drop for 15 miles and when I look back behind me we've shed some riders already.
Some ebb and flow over the next 10 miles, then as we make the turn at half way, the pace is peaceful and the conversation returns.
Things pick up for the sprints closer to home and then it's over. No fuss no muss.