Spinning along the canal this morning, it’s dark, it’s raining, and there’s a slight headwind. I've no cares as I've set off 20 min early this morning, so I could take my time, but mostly because I couldn't sleep.
In the distance I catch the flash of reflectors. They're quite a distance off and so I can’t tell if I'm catching the rider or not.
There’s a strange affect that happens to me when I see another on my route. It's a sort of competitive streak that seems to add energy to my legs and motivation to my spin... So I do what any self-respecting cyclist would do. I speed up. Only slightly mind, I don’t want to burn out, as I've still got a few miles to go yet...
As I catch up to him I start to study his riding style. What gear he's using, his cadence, type of bike, what he slows down for, etc.. Looking for any advantage.
My lights are very bright, and will have highlighted my presence ages ago. He sees me, he wobbles as he turns round to see where I am.
I stay behind him for a while giving my legs a rest and thinking ahead for a passing place. Just before the bridge which crosses over the M62 is a nice wide flat fast section. This is where I’ll pass.
In a car this is where you'd drop a gear and floor it... There isn't really an equivalent on a push bike, but, increasing my cadence until I can up the gear is the closest I can think of I suppose... I bolt past. As I approach the motorway bridge, I lock out the front suspension, and get up out of the saddle to make the climb a bit easier. It's only short but seems quite sharp. (It’s not). I suspected that if the guy wanted to race he be right behind me on the climb. He was. It wasn't because I'm an fat old guy of course!
The rider has upped his speed. He's on a narrow tyre hybrid bike, and younger and smaller than me. He should be faster. My bike has mountain bike gears and so top speed is limited by the small front crank. It’s got big fat tyres and has high rolling resistance, plus it’s a 650b tyre size... Recently tested slowest by bike radar. I’m expecting him to pass me, I would have done if I was him, and so I speed up.
I'm burning my lungs and legs as I settle into a fast cadence. I'm minimising the braking under the tight bridges, leaning out of the water to look round for kamikaze dogs and the dazed looking owners. All the time aware of the lights behind me, driving me on, faster.
Blasting through overhanging bushes, splashing through the mud and puddles. Jumping all the canal locks and steps, thinking how much fun this is.
I notice the rider has gone now. I’m now racing myself. Not sure for how long either…
I’m sure the other rider wasn't really racing, or actually cared that I overtook him, but it was fun to believe it at the time, and a new PR on the Strava segment confirmed it was a win after all!
