We rolled out of the NOC with a group of 17. After a two-hour spin to the backside of Wayah, I found myself in the faster of two groups as we headed toward the base of the climb. Little did I know I was pulling on a false flat, working my heartrate into a zone I didn't want to see until I was actually on the climb.
1. I pulled too hard, for too long, when I should have sat in.
2. I shouldn't have even been in the lead group. I should have gone my own pace into the start of the climb.
At mile 35 it really started to kick up and we entered a few switchbacks that blew me off the back of my group. I tried way too hard to stay with the lead group (the pain train portion of the ride) and probably should have just sat in with the second group.
My legs were still feeling pretty crappy from the 14 hours of driving the day before, so I was one of the last people to make the summit. Instead of doing the second portion of the ride with the lead group, I descended the front of Wayah, giggling with delight at the hairpin turns and high speeds. I reached 45 MPH on the way down and repeatedly dropped the other rider who headed back with me to the NOC.
We stopped a few times on the way back to stretch (we were both cramping a bit), and then Patrick (I think that was his name) dropped the hammer and we hauled ass into the NOC, averaging 25 MPH for the last 10 miles. It was mostly downhill, but damn were we cooking.
The first real ride was in the bag and my legs were shot from the nasty steep climb.
Monday we're riding Tsali: an old famous mountain bike trail system. Who's stoked? This guy.
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