Breakfast Of Champions

John organized today's ride. The objective was to ride from Riverfront Park to DeLeon's North restaurant on East Francis for breakfast. This ride was an unqualified success. The hardest part was getting out of bed and out the door. Silky smooth sailing from that point on. Winter's funny - Forest Gump would have something dopey to say here - it deals you so many variations in the surface you are riding on and you never know exactly what you're going to get until you're out there. Today was a gift. Much warmer than expected and totally sweet roads, combined with good company.



On the way home, John suggested we take the Ronald McDonald Hill up - that's Madison, between 5th and 6th.


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Sure, whatever. I knew I'd be hiking most of the way. John skillfully rounded the corner off 5th with all kinds of speed for the run-up. I slow-moed it in my typical fashion. And then the most amazing thing happened. My badass tires hooked up on the ice like nothing I've ever experienced.



I'd been dragging all 294 studs per tire around with me all day and it was finally time for them to earn their keep. I'd been playing with pressure and before today's ride I dropped down to about 20 psi. Good move, as it turned out. As I climbed, I was ready to pass out, but if the equipment was supporting me, there was no way I wasn't gonna do my part. Midway through the second block, cardiac arrest was imminent, but I cleaned that steep, slick, bad, mother. Wish I could say skill had anything to do with, but it was all about those amazing tires. It was all I could do to hang on.



(In the interest of full disclosure, my tires did eventually let me down (or maybe, most likely, I let my tires down). I crashed, two blocks from my house, after riding a little over 18 miles. I have no idea what exactly happened - one minute I was riding happily along and the next, I was on my ass. All I know is that some form of icy rut was involved. I will analyze this more in dreamspace.)