The dreaded wind did not show up so the ride was much faster than expected. Start time at six am sharp. It was a bit cold but nothing compared to the previous event. The organizers unleashed the pack in the most casual way (what happened to the ceremonial departure with the traditional bon route! and all the "necessary formalities"?) This time the field (some 150 guys and half a dozen gals) avoided the main road and threaded its way through an industrial area that lead to the St Joan junction before heading for the hills. No need to say that the pace suddenly increased and the fast guys on the lead quickly turned into a distant red glow in the dark. In fact some of them finished the ride before the minimum time and had to wait for the openning of the control . I was riding with some friends in a group of four that calmly tackled the hills in a brevetish manner making steady progress. Shortly before St Ramon we caught up with another cyclist. He was a friendly middleaged gentleman stubbornly riding in a course that was obviously beyond his physical limits. I offered him my wheel and did my best to "give him a ride" but it was obvious he was not going to make it. He lost contact approaching Agramunt. I knew we're not to see him again. Later, at the finish we learned he'd packed shortly after. By then our happy group of four was not only not so happy but a bit diminished. By some difficult-to-explain reason A.R. was on his own presumably well ahead of us. To our surprise he showed up at the Alfarràs control just when we were about to leave. Things were a bit tense at first but after some unconvincing appologies and by unspoken agreement we skipped over the most uncomfortable questions and left as a full group again. As we were leaving Lleida we gained on the familiar figure of a lonely cyclist. It happened to be MF our five times PBP ancienne. We were keeping quite a good pace but arriving to Cervera I started to suffer from saddle sores (What's going wrong with my old-trusty Brooks?) Anyway, we were back in St Ramon still in day light. By then I was starting to feel my legs "a bit heavy" but kept stubbornly on my 23 cog uncaring of the steepening grade to Conill. It was obviously a mistake, the last climb (the Coll de la Fonollosa) proved to be a real match for a overstressed rider (yes, I had overdone it a bit in the big ring...). A chilly un uneventful descent brought us to the finish. And now what? The 400?
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