That Rush

Been riding the 1994 Trek 2200 since I have returned from Ragbrai.  Fast, efficient, has lights and a computer.  An old friend that can take abuse.  Among today's journeys was one to the Fleur Cinema to see Amy.  Mary rode with me as this was our first time riding to that theater.  We took the newly established "quiet street" route.  This route has a steep hill, Casady Drive.  So steep that I knew I'd unleash myself down it.

The bars on the 2200 are Scott's Drop-Ins which after Greg LeMond used them way back when were banned from racing.  Considered a bit dangerous or something since the drops turn inward allowing the ride to scoot even further back on the seat and get lower thus more aerodynamic.  Old school geometry and stem lowers the front anyway, these bars highlight it.  The brakes are out front so riding on the hoods alone pushed weight front and lowers the profile of the rider.  Today, most road bikes sit up high for rider comfort.

As we rounded the curve I moved into position.  Placed my hands on the drops and let it rip.  The only obstacle was the woman walking a dog but they were on the other side of the road but there was a chance they'd come over to my side.  They did not.  Just pedal a bit and let it coast.

The roar in my ears was refreshing.  Kinda WHOARAH WHOARAH covering up the tinnitus that normally occupies silence.  It felt great.  My heart rate never increased despite the pure thrill of this knowing that one mistake or unseen object or front tire blow out ect could result in serious intense pain.  The fact that I was helmetless should have raise my blood pressure and anxiety.  It did not.  I was in my pure element enjoying a few seconds of bliss before I applied the calipers and scrubbed the momentum and speed to nil and suffocated in the summer heat.  But for a brief moment I had the cool rush of air cooling me off filling my ears along with the zing of a Campy freehub.

36.5 mph