20.8 mph – Calculating in my head as I look at my GPS, that average is on track to slaughter my previous personal record for the 26-mile bike portion of a triathlon.
This was yesterday during the Nation’s Tri and I was on mile 14.
I’m making this observation just as I start the second lap of the two-lap loop, which is then followed by a fairly flat couple of miles to the finish. I get stronger in the later portions of a ride. It’s a lock to be a new personal record.
Climbing the hill to the hairpin turn back toward the downtown loop, I feel that familiar drag on my pedal stroke and that sensation of riding on pebbles. I look down. My back tire is flat. That’s going to cost me 3 minutes.
I ride on the flat tire to the top of the hill and pull off the course between some spectators.
To the right of the gap into which I pull, an 8-ish year-old kid who’s waiting with his mom for dad to ride by asks “Mommy, why is that guy stopping?”
She responds. “He has to fix something. This is getting exciting for you, isn’t it?”
To my left, there’s another rider sitting in the grass with his bike turned upside down, wheel off. “You ok?,” I ask. “Yeh,” is his only response.
The kid is fascinated watching the process as I quickly yank off my wheel and get ready to change the tube.
“You wanna help?” I ask, without looking up.
I hand him the stem cap, new tube and my CO2 cartridge while I lever the tire off and pull the ruptured tube. He hands me the cartridge and cap once I have the new tube on the rim.
As I’m inflating the tube, the mother says to the other rider, “How long til they get here?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I wish I’d have brought an extra tube.”
I’m a cyclist at heart and by training. There’s a code – don’t leave another cyclist stranded. I learned that on my first competitive ride, when another rider gave me his spare.
“You need an extra tube?” I ask, without turning around. I quickly pull my second spare out of the seat pack and toss on the grass beside him as I get ready to flip my bike upright.
“THANKS!” he says. “Now if I only had a cartridge.” I backhand toss him mine, then realize the issue. He doesn’t have any repair supplies, which likely includes tire levers. Anticipating his next comment —-
“I’ll lever your tire off, then you’re on your own,” I said. I do.
Things happen very fast from this point. With 5 minutes lost on my ride time now, I flip my bike over and throw my leg over the saddle, and pull back to the edge of the street. My attention is focused on making up the substantial lost time.
The kid stands in front of me on the right hand side, both hands out “Wait, Wait.”
I turn toward him.
“Good luck,” He says. And slaps me five.
Thanks kid. Great way to end my 43rd year.