Who the heck is Jib???

Positively brilliant ride today. Me, Redlight and Jib (more on the new name later) tore into a 48 mile blast up to Cherry Creek this afternoon. It’s April 2 and we were granted a day of 65 degrees with a lot of wind. Aaaah, Spring time in the Rockies.

With so many miles ridden it is easy to get callous towards a meaningless early season ride. You might ask, “What is so special about miles 10,243 to 10,290?” To this I answer that there is uniqueness to each ride. Something that you can’t predict or even anticipate occurring usually does.

Today was no exception. It started like any other; Peacocks on the porch bitching about why they were going to suck today. “I’ve ridden hard the past 4 days and am gonna be terrible today” “I didn’t get any sleep” blah blah blah. In true Peacock fashion, Redlight’s wife witnessed it all.

Off we rode. The wind sucked and required more effort that I wanted to give. Along the way, Jib informed us that he had just received sponsorship from Hagen Daaz. Something about being a poster child for off-season blah and a need to fill oneself with lactose based carbs.

After dodging pissed Chevy drivers, wicked intersections and the usual spate of hateful minivan pilots, we rolled into the glorious track that is Cherry Creek. I’m not sure what happen to Jib at this point, but Redlight and I took to the aero-bars with the intent of crushing our legs across the TT course. With the head wind, this really, really hurt.

While I kept Redlight in sight, he clearly was stronger today. Even though I made a wrong turn, I think Redlight was 30 seconds faster across the course. More important were the improvements that we both made in dealing with the turn around. For those unfamiliar, the CCTT route turns around in a parking lot on the north end of the reservoir. No big deal except for the variable radius of the turn and the concern for sand somewhere in the turn around. Bottom line, you are not comfortable going full on in this weird turn.

At the end of the ride Redlight and I both did our obligatory turns of coughing our lungs out. I think that Jib was mildly amused. Seems that the aero position and self hatred produced a pace that Jib couldn’t hold for the whole course.

On the ride home we kept a very, very slow pace. It was somewhere on Dayton Drive while hiding from the wind that I realized that Jib’s ridiculously huge frame cuts all of the negative wind effects for those on his wheel. Dude is so big that he is like a sail on the Nina, Pinta or the Santa Maria; he is a Jib. As such, I hereby christen the old Hammerson the new Jib. I hope that you all enjoy his draft as much as I.

So the net of it all was an awesome 48 miles at 18.4 average pace. And while this may only be one little ride, I am left with the burning in my legs and the endorphins in my veins screaming that this was the greatest ride of all time. That is, until next time.

Snail Dik to you my friend.