Dropped in Cairo

This morning, I got up at 6am to go riding with the Cairo Cyclists. This was the second time I had decided to go out for a ride with them. Last week it was just me and one other guy. Apparently there was a large group doing a 2 day ride from Taba to Sharm el Sheik, so most people didn't show up. Last weekend it was about 35 miles over 2 hours on a reasonably paced ride -- I was able to hold a conversation the entire time and despite a mild head wind the entire ride, it was nice and pleasant. (Yes, a head wind in BOTH directions.) The roads we took are some of the more major roads in the area -- 4 lanes in each direction -- but riding at 7am on a Friday means no one is on them and there is plenty of room. It was a nice way to get back into the saddle after a long hiatus.

Today was different.

Very different.

When I showed up today, there were a dozen guys at the meetup point a couple were in full kits. I normally ride in my GW kits because they're some of the best riding gear I have, but the impression I give off is that I must be serious about my riding. So I was fairly impressed to see there were a couple guys who at least used to be serious about their riding.

That's because they still are serious about their riding.

Today we took the same route out of town and the pace was initially fairly chatty as we warmed up and kind of got acquainted with each other. At the first turn off we stopped and regrouped and maybe half the group had been gapped by some distance despite the chatty nature of the ride so far. So we continued on but the chattiness started to dissipate and a pace line started forming up. I really enjoyed this a lot. It's been at least 3 years since I've ridden in a pace line with people that knew what they were doing, and while there were a few surges in the pace line as some stronger riders hit the front, it was fairly smooth and was nice to be able to sit in, ride at a tempo, take a 60 second pull on the front then peel off and return to the wind break. As we were about 1-2km away from the police check point, the pace suddenly surged hard right after my pull and I was spat out the back, but I figured there was some sort of charge for a line up front before the regroup.

Nope.

As we waited for the rest to catch up, there was a discussion about whether or not they would go farther. Some guys decided to turn around, but a large group decided that they would ride out to "the Heineken sign" and turn around there. It would make for a 45km ride out -- 20km farther than where we were already. Getting dropped already had me a little concerned but more worrisome was whether or not my butt would be able to survive that long. Other than a 1/2 IM I did this summer as a total goof, I haven't ridden that far in at least 2 years, maybe 3. I haven't been in the saddle at all since August other than last Friday and I was a little tender. But I decided to go anyway. Gotta get that butt harder somehow, right?

I should not have been worried about my butt.

As we pulled out of the check point, it was quite clear this was not amateur hour anymore. We dropped right into a paceline and it was fun. I put in some solid efforts and for the most part was able to hang just fine. But I started to get concerned by some surges that I was going to have an issue on the way home, so I decided I was going to turn around at the next option. Turns out that was 5 km away, and it was the turn around point we were headed for.

I was right to be concerned.

After regrouping at the turnaround, the slight uphill turns into a slight downhill. We started flying down the hill. And it wasn't just because we were going downhill. Even with the hill, it felt like we were charging pretty hard. I saw my computer hit 37 mph despite a mild headwind.

Hrm.. that's a little alarming. We still have 40 km to go.

Then I heard someone say something about the sprint line is the top of the next hill. I looked up and saw the top of a slight grade about 2km off in the distance. "Ok," I thought, "I'll just sit in and when they sprint for the top I'll just let them go. It's still a ways off though, so no worries."

Then I saw 2 guys starting to charge past me on the left. Seriously? A 2 km long sprint?

Yes, a 2km long sprint. Most of the field chased on. I tried but couldn't close the gap. Dropped. Seriously dropped.

I watched them pull away from me and before I knew it, they were an impossible distance ahead of me. If they didn't stop long enough at the check point, I was going to call Meg there and tell her I was a long ways out on my own. Either be patient or come out and pick me up. But they waited, for everyone and I wasn't the last guy. So maybe they had had their fun and I'd be able to hang out for the last 10 miles.

Nope. The fun wasn't over yet. Within 5 km it was just me and one other guy chasing back on again.

After a total of 94 km (56 miles), 3.5 hours, and a little kiss of sun on my arms and face the hammerfest was over. It was a very fun first half, and once I get myself into some better form, it'll be a great group to ride with. But damn. It's going to be a rough ride to get there. Of all the things I knew I could do in Cairo, I had no idea hammerfest cycling would be an option. Whodathunkit?