Vitaly, Vitaly

My cycling club awards digital jerseys for winning certain segments of group rides. There’s no bias here, Garmin bike computers and satellites get involved and record your times between two points. When you get home and upload the data onto some software like Strava that stores and analyzes your ride, and over which riders like me and my clubmates obsess, the fastest riders over the relevant segments get the digital jersey. There aren’t any bouquets or podium girls, but there’s pride. Lots of it. A few months ago Baleen looked over my shoulder while I was on the club website and asked why I didn’t have any of those jersey thingies. I said it was because I didn’t have a Garmin. She looked at that day’s jersey winners and asked, So you beat Vitaly up Hawk Hill? Yes, I said. So you’d have a jersey if you had a Garmin? Yes, I said. Lo and behold, on the morning of 7/19/11, I open my birthday present from Baleen to find a Garmin. So you can get the jerseys you deserve, she said as she hugged me.

Now where I’m most likely to win a jersey, and the jerseys I most want to win, are on Tuesday morning. There’s Hawk Hill and the Presidio sprint. That first Tuesday morning with the bike computer, Baleen couldn’t wait til she got home. Did you beat Vitaly, she asked as she called from her commute. Yes, I said. So you got a jersey, she yelled. No, I said. Somebody else beat Vitaly, she asked. And me, I said. Grrrrr, she said. The next Tuesday she at least waited until she got home, did you beat Vitaly? Yes, I said. So you got a jersey? No, I said. Somebody else beat Vitaly, she asked. And me, I said. What about the sprint, she asked. Nope, I broke too early and faded at the line, I said. So you still don’t have any jerseys even though I got you the Garmin, she asked. That’s correct, I said. Grrrrrr.

View from the top of Hawk Hill on a mid-summer morning looking down to the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco behind. 

This morning I followed a strong rider up the hill and hung on longer than I thought I could, which left me without a jersey, but a little pride. On the Presidio sprint, things were looking good. Last week’s winner broke too early. I could see this quite clearly three riders back in the line-up and knew that if I stayed with the two in front of me to the last fifty yards I could slingshot in front of them to the line. Which is what I did, and with twenty yards left I was well in front of them and knew they couldn’t catch me. But somebody else, somebody I hadn’t seen, must have been thinking at fifty yards, if I can just stay with these three riders, I can slingshot in front of them to the line. Because with five yards left, just as I was thinking of how I’d tell Baleen, somebody passed me on the left, and all I could think was, Baleen’s not going to like this.