Tour de DeTour

Every day a bicyclist in this area can find a group ride to join. When I moved here twenty-five years ago, there were, to my knowledge, no group rides at all. So, yes, we cyclists have seen great strides. For proof, all a visitor has to do is look at the group ride calendar at http://www.myrtlebeachcycling.com/calendar/. Pretty impressive. I’ve done most of those rides, some of them hundreds of times. I know the routes of all of them, the scenery, the turns of each road, the slowdown corners, the sprint stretches, the potholes, the lights, the traffic, the names and bike-types of most of the riders. There’s variety a-plenty; choice abounds: pace, distance, starting-point, morning or afternoon—as I said, something for everyone.

Still, there’s something missing. Sadly, my ideal group ride can be found nowhere on the calendar. Yet it wouldn’t be hard to make this “ideal” quite “real.” Maybe I can be the one to “lead” it. Ironically, my ideal ride wouldn’t even have a leader. But it does need an originator. Thus, I offer this proposal for a new group ride.

A critical point of difference between my ride and others is that there would be no A-B-C designation of speed. The reductive nature of this designation does much unintended damage. Subject to being interpreted relatively, this crude rating system doesn’t necessarily discourage riders who don’t quite meet the “grade” from participating. An “A” ride could well attract a slower rider who wants to “learn” from the superior riders or to “train” to reach that higher level. In other words, it would be an incentive for that person. He or she might not finish with the group, but that’s another topic for another time.

Or take the “B” category. On any given day, a “B” ride can go either way, thus guaranteeing to displease (1) “A” riders who, for whatever reason, show up that day and immediately feel held back by both the “B” and (often present at “B” rides) the “C” riders; (2) the “C” riders who feel like the “A” and “B” riders are pushing the pace far beyond their desire or ability to keep up; and (3) the conscientious “B” riders who take the ride-description on the calendar (“average speed of 18 mph with occasional sections at 20 mph” kind of thing) literally and wish everybody else would too. The “C” cyclist cannot help but cause the “B+” rider to slow down (the “B” ride is a no-drop ride), probably with some frustration. Meanwhile, the “A” rider, whose strength the “B” or even “B+” rider cannot match, is sure, despite his or her best efforts to cooperate, to add competitive pressure to this “B” group. After all, “A” riders and their so-called “A” rides are best described not by the expected speed but by this philosophy: We go as fast as we can right out the gate and keep it that way throughout; we never see anything but the road ahead of us and the cars that might interfere with our fast-as-we-can velocity, brooking no variation in tempo and no modification of attitude, both terms defined by the word “race” (as in competition, not skin color). We are racers or wish we were racers, and every minute of every ride reflects that approach to, and reason for, riding bicycles, which is more efficiently done in a group where we can capitalize on race tactics such as double-pace lines, drafting, etc.

An added issue with the A-B-C model is that its academic connotation can’t fail to make people feel as if they’re in school again, being graded now not by numbers but athletic skill, and by their social equals no less. Isn’t one main point of bike riding to escape the judgmental ideology of repressive structures such as school?

So my group riders won’t be pre-graded. Those who wish to engage in the style of riding that my group ride will advocate will not deprive themselves of the pleasure of it based on conventional ego-boost measures of fitness—measures that might—might—be good for the body (no proof that they are) but are bad for carefree fun.

With this big shift in attitude, the rest of the ride begins to fall in place. The first rule is that interested riders will convene at someone’s house—not in a plaza parking-lot, not at the bike shop. The average modern bike shop, which, because of its fidelity to the values of racing, endorses all the negative aspects of group riding (polyester kits, carbon frames and components, electronic shifting, narrow tires, low handlebars, ridiculous “aero” wheels, and the like), will not be the place to start for riders who don’t view bicycles as personalized fitness machines with two-hour rides at speed the object.

To start at someone’s house on a rotating basis is to separate ourselves from feeling in debt to the bike shop or to the business whose parking lot we invade throughout the year. It is also to increase the social factor of the ride, often lost in today’s routine speed-rated approach. Sharing our driveways and front lawns from the outset is certain to strengthen the bond among all participants.

We can also dispense with the appurtenances of racing. That the racing that most group rides impersonate in clothing and gear never materializes doesn’t seem to strike anyone as strange. Some, perhaps many, of the bikes we own are as good as those used by professional riders, who wildly outclass us. We all like nice things, but, really, there are plenty of bike models out there that make more sense for most of us. Some of these models will probably appear at my ride—which I hereby christen the Tour de DeTour. For this one, any old bike will do. Flat pedals will be okay. Saddlebags. Handpumps. Loose shorts, the same ones you wear to Costco. Wheels with thirty-two spokes. Each.

The person who has extended his or her home as the starting-point will lead us wherever he or she wishes. Never will the route be the same as the week before. The only defining factor will be time. Since this ride will not be scheduled regularly, the participants, communicating the ride details on a social media site, will decide beforehand what the duration of the next “detour” will be. They will plan accordingly—how much food to bring, how many water bottles.

The riders will be alert as that day’s group leader directs the flow into neighborhoods, out onto highways, down into hollers that the regular routes never explore. It will be defined by detour. By whim. By this way of thinking: Now we are on a busy street, so work on your mindfulness skills as you maintain a steady cadence with no inclination to check a digital read-out that tells you what that cadence is. Learn to internalize the statistics that quantify the rhythms of your body. Your body. Not Garmin’s.

Sometimes the group will ride fast, sometimes slow. We will not be defined by the letters A, B, C, or D (yes, I’ve seen “D” groups).

No one will fail. Pass only.

Individual desires will be respected. Anyone can call for a stop at any time for any reason: bathroom/food/drink/photo-op/cell break. We are free to brake in order to move a turtle frozen with fear off the road. We can pull up short to gaze at a rainbow. We can take a group photo in front of a field of cotton or a flooded river.

The kind of riders I envision will be familiar, or at least would be interested in, alternative ways of thinking found in, say, Leonard Zinn’s comments on tire pressure, Grant Petersen’s “velosophical” insights, and Jan Heine’s tips on tire pressure/tire width. The Tour de DeTour riders tend to see bicycling as a way of life rather than as an event to check off in an aerobics regimen. A Tour de DeTour rider won’t feel constrained to appear as if he or she is comfortable or capable of keeping a speed at which he or she actually experiences discomfort. A Tour de DeTour rider has nothing against the A-B-C rides available in our community; he or she has enjoyed thousands of miles in the company of other cyclists. But there may be an unspoken desire among many local riders for something such as what I’ve just described. If not, that’s okay; a person can always ride alone.