YESTERDAY I rode the three miles over to a local high school, in time to connect with a regular Saturday morning group ride.  When I arrived, however, attendance was sparse and what riders were there clearly outclassed me so, rather than kill myself trying fruitlessly to keep up I sent them on their way and headed off to do my own thing.

It turns out that "my own thing" looked very much like retracing my tire tracks and retreating into the air-conditioned comfort of my home.  This was due to lethargy brought on by a combination of factors: I'd had a poor night's sleep, it was already pushing 80 at 8:00, and I could see the air.  

Well, okay technically what I was seeing was water vapor that wasn't being absorbed into the saturated air, as the previous evening's deluge began to boil off in the strong morning sun.  It created a visible, palpable, steamy, sticky mess that I really didn't want to ride in, so I returned home and took a long nap instead.  Total for the day: 6 miles, if I round up slightly.

Today is much better, weather-wise: it's pleasantly cool(ish) and the sun's out, with far less humidity than yesterday.  There's another club ride, of the right length and right projected average pace for me, starting a short drive from home at a decent hour.  This I can do.

Everything's already collected and set from yesterday's abortive ride, so all I need to do is load up and head out, which I somehow manage to do in good and timely fashion.

Arriving at the ride start I find I'm one of six riders, mostly about my age +/- five years.  I'm the only one on a classic steel-framed tourer; the rest are a mix of what look to be 15-30 year old road bikes (a Trek OCLV 1200, another aluminum Trek 1200 dating to the mid-90s, a Klein- remember them?- and a couple others).

After a few preliminaries the group sets off, maintaining an easy pace that's slightly above that which was advertised, due mostly to easy, moderately down-slope roads.  We chat easily among ourselves as we ride, and enjoy the morning.

The route eventually takes us to a stretch of road that includes a few of the more notorious hills in the area, but they're not really leg-busters.  Nobody's riding hard enough to turn them into a suffer-fest either, for which I'm grateful.

Shortly after cresting the last of them, we run across this:

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Gretchen CarlsonThis looks like the work of some odd collector who couldn't turn down an opportunity to display modes of transportation. You're right, snooty HOAs wouldn't approve.
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I'm intrigued by the obvious invitation presented by the open door and extended ladder, but the group presses on so I don't pause to go inside.

Our second rest stop is just past the halfway mark.  There's a long gentle uphill drag to come in the remaining miles and when we reach it I tell the ride leader this is where his responsibility to me ends.  I'm a big boy now, I know the roads, I'm familiar with riding alone, and there's no need for me to slow the rest of the group down just because I'm not a strong climber.

It takes a bit of convincing- all credit to him for his sense of responsibility- but after a bit he does leave me to negotiate the hills in my own pace and without worrying about the effect it'll have on the rest of the group.

I climb gradually over the next several miles, eventually topping out and starting a longish section where the terrain's more in my favor.  I've discovered, early in the ride, that I can out-coast all of the others and can at least keep pace on the flats, so I begin to wonder whether I might catch the group.

They're obviously in no hurry, and may have paused briefly at a couple of intersections, so in fact I do catch them- almost.  I'm just short of the tail-end rider when we reach another short, gentle rise and poof! once again I'm off the back.

I stay off the back, gradually losing ground, as we negotiate the final few miles.  They're more uphill than otherwise, and I'm beginning to strain so it's time to slow down and do my own thing once again.  Feeling the need, I even pause a few times for thirty second's rest in the shade before continuing, despite having less than two miles remaining.

Reaching the parking lot from which we started, I see the rest of the group is doing the usual post-ride tasks of loading up and getting ready to depart.  I want to go mingle for a few minutes but am suddenly very dizzy.  Experience tells me this is a sign that I'm (a) overheated, and (b) likely dehydrated so instead of visiting I down the last eight ounces of water I have with me, and lie in the grassy shade for several minutes to cool off.

Arising, things aren't yet back to were I can trust myself not to swoon and collapse, so a few more minutes on my back in the shade are clearly in order.  Finally, I find that I can sit up without the periphery of my vision going black, so I gingerly get to my feet and set about my own post-ride chores.

Feeling better with every passing minute I conclude I'm probably okay to drive home.  Along the way, I stop and pick up a pizza from our favorite place, then gently head for the barn.

The pizza's good and the beer is cold, but I'll stick to water, and lots of it, for most of the rest of the day.

So that's possibly it: the final trainer before the tour.  There may be chances later this week but I'm not banking on them and besides, it's time to get the laundry done and get mostly packed, so I'm not in a last-minute rush.

I'm planning to leave home Saturday, travel to a northern Philadelphia suburb to join the 95th birthday celebration for my mother-in-law, then turn west on Sunday for the long drive to Minnesota.  I want to arrive a couple days before the tour starts, since I have an invitation from a Twin Cities area cousin to join her and her husband at her cabin on the north shore of Lake Superior for a couple days and nights.  I'm looking forward to it!

43 miles.