We then proceeded to the highway to practice shifting and drafting.
Newbie note: Peloton is a large group of riders that allows a cyclist to conserve energy by using the slipstream of other riders.
“Big chain, little chain.” That was the easy “Klas-speak” for instruction on my front left-hand shifter.
“Cassette” was my front right-hand shifter for shifting between the cogs at the rear.
“Think of the beautiful music you make as you pedal past,” they noted.
Surprisingly, there were no incidents on that evening country email list ride that would feature 22 gear combinations, some of which I SHOULD NOT “cross chain.”
I even learned to attach my bike number in a more aerodynamic manner.
And I didn’t stick myself in the morning when attaching my jersey number. I loaded liquids in a bottle well and stuffed a few snacks in my shirt correctly along with my passport — which was required for going through Customs 104 miles down the way.
Ivanowicz, who would cycle the second half of the race, drove Bursell and me to within a mile of the start. We pedaled down to warm up, me stopping once to relieve myself among mosquito-infested bushes.
“Try to get into a group at the start, get up that first hill and you will be fine,” they said. “Don’t worry. You have good endurance. Get near the front.”
OMG.
The race announcer said professionals and amateurs training for more than six months should be at the front and recreational riders behind, and my Swedish brain was saying, “Woo hoo! Look out world I am about to explode off the line…”
Darn clip-in shoes. After bumping about and getting swarmed by riders of every level I managed to begin a cadence – the speed at which a cyclist pedals – and my adventure began.
“Don’t be afraid to join the peloton,” my gurus said
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