Russian Roulette

There is nothing greater than riding along at 40km/h in the middle of a peloton, the only sound the music of your tires on the road. But as with all things in life, there is a price to be paid. Like birds flying in formation, the peloton travels as an integrated unit, where riders save energy by sticking close and everyone is expected to share the pull at the front. This often means that there is less than a hand-spans length between you and the riders around you. The danger comes when riders get tired and their response times to changes in speed are slower. And on the day that there is a bullet under the hammer, there is nothing you can do.

This fact was again brought home to me at a cycle race this past Saturday. The last 5 km of the race consisted of a 1 km climb, followed by a 4 km downhill. When we hit the hill, I was surprised when no-one staged a break away. This was when I realised that we had been racing so hard that no one had the energy left. We climbed over the apex of the hill and started our descent on the other side. Like a massive flock of birds, the peloton spread itself over the two lane roadway. As our speed increased, I started overtaking other riders and hence moved over to the right wing of the bunch. Approximately 1 km into the descent, there was a shout and suddenly the whole center of the peloton just ... disappeared. In a split second, all that was left of more than 50 riders, were just those lucky enough to be on the outskirts of the group. But the worst was the sound of men shouting and the scream of metal being dragged across tar.