I Flunked My First Peloton

Remember those couple of summers, a few years back, when Lance Armstrong was a still a superhero and we all watched the Tour de France on TV tape delay because we weren't yet internet-savvy enough to watch it online in real-time?

We all learned a little cycling lingo. Words like time trials, yellow jersey, Alpe d'Huez, peloton, blood doping and Hincape became part of our vernacular.

If you remember, a peloton is a large group of riders who ride together as one unit to allow the whole group to go faster while using less overall energy/total effort.

This is how it works:

The riders up front bear the brunt of the wind and work hard to create a slipstream for those that come behind them. The riders behind the front line benefit from the lack of drag, allowing them to conserve energy AND move faster than they can on their own. Think "drafting" in NASCAR terms. The riders take turns at the front of the pack, keeping it all fair, in spite of the fact that they're technically competing against each other.

It looks like this:

I was exposed to my first peloton today in the Tour de Fort ride in Fort Atkinson and failed miserably.

My brother-in-law and I rode the metric century course ... about 62 miles. The course changed from last year and it was fantastic. We started out in Fort, rode to Jefferson, through Aztalan, Milford, then around Rock Lake in Lake Mills. From there we went toward Cambridge and around part of Lake Ripley and wound back to Fort via Rockdale and Oakland.

Somewhere in the 45-50 mile mark, a group of riders swooped up behind us and started to pass. I knew what Juan Carlos was thinking before he looked at me and gave me a "come on, come on, let's fall in behind them" wave.

So I started pedaling for all I was worth. It was apparent that this group of riders had ridden together before, as evidenced by their uber professional gear, fancy bikes, remarkably steady pace and ballet-like movements.

And I caught up. I could almost literally feel the group force suck me in. For a blissful two minutes, or thereabouts, I was enjoying the benefit of those working so hard ahead of me.

Then we hit a hill.

I didn't gear properly (I almost never do, BTW) and I fell off the pace just a little. That little, however, was enough to slingshot me back away from the group. I panicked, made a second run, and pedaled like hell again to try and get back.

Of course, the group had the momentum and I just couldn't keep up.

"Go with them," I gasped toward JC. "I can't keep up. I'll meet you at the end."

And because he's kind and generous, he backed off to ride with me.

The lesson? We can go farther and faster when we work together. It's real. And maybe it's why we're all here in CCland together. To share and encourage and assist.

To learn from each other.

Thank you for being here for the ride.

P.S. The rest of the story? That group finished far ahead of us and had all but finished their complementary Lions Club Chicken and Corn Roast meal by the time we pulled into Jones Park. Lucky bastards got to the good stuff first. But the good news was that there was plenty left for us.