The price of progress: the wonderful criterium the Tricyclists have staged in my neighborhood has been derailed (cycling pun!) by the addition of massive speed tables to the course. Sure, my kids will be safer as they walk to school, but we’ll really miss the wonderful races. The second of the course’s two brutal hills begins in front of our house, and we loved the annual ritual of holding a brunch on our porch as we enjoyed the spectacle. It was the endurance athlete’s equivalent of going to a steeplechase horse race, with our friends sitting on the sidelines sipping a beverage and snacking on picnic foods.
In its place, the Tricyclists are staging a time trial at a winery in nearby Mebane. Sounds like a decent replacement, and it’s certainly a more doable event. One year I considered doing the race as wingwoman for my friend Susie. Wes and I did six loops of the course, and I was literally in tears by the end. Too hard! I was secretly relieved when Susie endo-ed and broke a collarbone.