Jerry was rolling along the roadside, playing in the gravel when he kicked up a rock that flew into Mike’s rear wheel and busted out a spoke.
He and Sally turned back, then after a nasty stretch of gravel Blair went his own way too. Then we were five.
We rolled some sweet gravel roads in New Kent, but every time the hammer went down, I rolled off the back. I couldn’t get my heart rate over 150 without feeling nauseous. Jerry, meanwhile, was tearing it up.
Jimmy had some flat troubles – three in fact. Riding the last stretch of dirt road I was feeling pretty good about my decision to ride my road bike when suddenly my rear tube went soft, not 100 meters from the end of the dirt.
We then saw a sign.
Thank goodness our finish wasn’t that far away – just 10 miles maybe, including the notorious KOA climb. Ouch. Dan punched it on the descent, then Jimmy roared up the climb, leaving me gasping in the back. I plodded the last few miles back to Wallers Mill.
Everybody was spent.
Good time even though I wasn’t myself. Looking forward to the 4th of July ride and next year’s Billy-Roubaix.