Logic

Several weekends ago I participated in the Saturday morning group road ride out of Park Ridge; I also participated in not using logic. The results are as follows.

Being out of the house and on your bike by seven am--thin strips of rubber peeling from pavement to sky and then back again in fractions of a second, the early sun yawning across an undulating and car-less land--provides a rather distinct sense of satisfaction, something almost inexplicable. If you have ever been the recipient of such an early morning ride experience, you know exactly what I mean.

Gliding into the center of Park Ridge, I encountered a simmering congregation of cyclists on the brink of turning into a rolling boil of departure. My intentions had been to get in a good three+ hour ride (including the return trip home), which did indeed occur, despite failing the day's test in logic and reasoning.

Although I did not know the route we were set to take, one piece of information I did know was that wherever we ended (back in Park Ridge) there would be a sprint finish, something which I had been looking forward to (having lost by one second in a sprint down at Greenbrier, it has been on my list of things to improve). Evidently, like searching for town borders to sprint across, the finish was at the forefront of my mind and thus impeded any and all possible use of common sense.

On a long downhill the group splintered, leaving me alone, with a pack off the front and a pack off the back. I could hear the breath of a man bridging to me and so I decided to turn on the pistons for my own good, and push it out on the proceeding section of flat. I did not want to miss out on the sprint. After trading a few pulls back and forth, still feeling strong, I motored away in search of the rest of the peleton.

And there they were, on the other side of the road, facing the opposite direction, lining up for a final sprint finish. So, I came to a full stop, changed direction, and joined the idling peleton. As we started to roll I could see several blurs pumping past my peripheral vision, moving steadily in the direction I had previously been headed. Logically, one would question why a group ride would stop momentum, pull a u-turn, and wait on the other side of the road--which initially I did wonder, but then decided to ignore. Word of obvious advice: always go with your first instinct, it is usually correct. Slowly, feeling as though I was going against the grain of a giant force, I began to comprehend and eventually accept the illogicality of my decision. The jerseys surrounding me began to come into focus and, of course, I did not recognize any of them; followed by the riders wearing those jerseys, none of which I recognized either. As blindly as I had entered my tunneled vision did I exit it, and within a matter of seconds the dam witholding my lake of pooling logic finally broke, sending a flood of comprehensive reasoning and flowing thought process into the rivers of my veins and, at last, into the cerebral cortex of my brain.

An exclamation of strung choice words, followed by two sets of fingers each pulling back sharply on two sets of brake levers, ejected themselves from my mouth and my bike was once again changing direction. In order to catch up with the group I had commenced with, imagine that, I started up the pistons again, struggling to catch a glimpse of anyone pedaling into the horizon. Fortunately, two Park Ridge riders, bewildered by my sudden turnaround and accompaniment of an entirely different group, had waited for me at the subsequent turn. Oh how I felt the hue of my hair show itself with gleaming pride. Apparently, blondes do have more fun, or get made fun of more, whichever way you look at it the word fun is involved.

Often we learn more by backpedaling through the steps of an illogical decision than from actually making the most obviously logical decision in the first place; such situations are what add flavor to the fruition of one's intentions, provide grounds for personal revelation and strengthening of vital decision making skills, and most importantly offer a platform from which to laugh at one's self. After all was said and done, I did get my sprint finish, albeit alone, and after losing and un-losing myself during the return ride home, ended up with around three hours of ciruitously solid riding. Another good day made all the more interesting by the absence, or moreso momentary blockage of skills in logic--I'll take it.