It's been a while since I've done a ride longer than about ten miles around the neighborhood. I got out on two this weekend.
Tom H posted a club ride out of Freehold, heading through Middletown and Atlantic Highlands to Sandy Hook, then down through Sea Bright and Tinton Falls back to Freehold.
That route brings us by the Route 35 Scary Clown. Martin and Laura OLPH decided they needed Scary Clown pictures, and I decided I needed pictures of the two of them getting Scary Clown pictures.
Tom hadn't counted on the traffic on Kings Highway and the other local roads. He usually does this route around the Jewish holidays, which has limited the traffic in the past, but apparently not so this year. I found the traffic on these roads with no shoulder to be enervating; I was downhearted for the next several miles. Tom later told me I was acting like an old man, and he wasn't wrong.
But the path at the shore, and then Sandy Hook, helped me get back on track again.
And back. We kept up a pretty hot pace (for us), and ended up with 60 miles for the day, with a little climb and some wind. For the last few miles, I decided to let the group go ahead, and slow-rolled back to the start (hey, it's not a race, and I knew where I was going!) Go check the ride page.
For today, I'd posted a variation of one of my regular routes, from Franklin down through Princeton (but through a neighborhood rather than along Route 27), and up to Hopewell and back. I got twelve takers, many capable of faster paces than the posted pace. After having done 60 miles the day before, I was a bit concerned about having the energy to keep up, but I did well enough that I could keep up with the group, and check in regularly with the three new (to me) riders and make sure they were OK.
As happens on some of my rides, there was a very fast group that went off the front. At first, they would wait at turns, but then they just started taking the turns and proceeding. None of the other riders appeared to complain or have problems, and we did stop a few times for water and breath.
We stopped at the Boro Bean.
On the way back, I discovered I'd inadvertently routed the group onto 206. Two were off the front, and I couldn't see them, so I don't know the route they took, but I re-routed the remainder onto less trafficky roads, and then across the canal and back.
About three miles from the end, we came upon the off-the-front pair; one had had to make a panic stop; the other had gone over behind him. While the rider was apparently upset, there was no sign of personal injury... but the derailleur hanger had sacrificed itself to save the rear mech. The bike was not in rideable condition. We were close enough to the end to arrange for a pick-up... and a text exchange later in the afternoon elicited that the rider was at the shop having the hanger changed out, and was little the worse for wear.
Enough bike drama. I'm going back to my cranky retired guy life.
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