There are several schools of rider leadership. One school, likely the most common, is the, “Let’s go do the standard ride” school. Here we all go out and ride a routine and pre-determined route. Everyone (except the newbie’s) pretty much knows the exact route, distance, turns, start time, and all other details of the ride.
Remember the Odyssey? First you have the Iliad. All those Greeks go to Troy. Much trouble and strife ensue. It takes a long time to get it done. And then… The Big Hero, Odysseus, want to get home. He takes off, going flat out, fast, and hard. He’s ready to take on anything that gets in his way. But..! Apparently he doesn’t know where he’s going, ‘cause it sure does take him a long time to get there. Oh sure. He’s tough and resourceful. He’s also kind of hard on his team. A lot of them don’t quite make it all the way, and a fair amount of bad stuff happens to all of them along the trip.
Years ago, I used to ride with several folks, and one in particular, on long rides. George was strong and confident. He’d get out in front and pull you all day long. It took me a while to figure out that George almost never knew, at least not to any great degree of precision, just where he was. Further, he had only a vague idea of where he was going.
I made that discovery gradually, and over time, as I learned my way around this area. Rides with George tended to be fast, and… interesting. I learned. I learned that I had to stay close to my friend, and be ready. I would see him miss a turn. It would be a turn that I knew we needed to make. I chase George down, and ask him if he knew where we were going, and did he have a route change in mind. No. Had no clue. He said, once, “I figure, sooner or later, someone will tell me if I’m going off course.”
Alexander the Great. Interesting guy. Conquered the world. Sometimes in spite of his army. At one point, after having taken down Persia, he was working his way through Asia Minor. There was a bit of discontent among the troops. (This would happen again later.) So what does young Alexander do? He burns the maps. Now he’s the only one who knows how to get home. The gang pretty much has to follow him.
Christopher Columbus pulled something similar to Alexander’s stunt with the maps. At one point, in Christopher’s first voyage, his crew weren’t happy with him. But he was, in addition to being the Boss, also the navigator. No one else had a clear idea of how to get home without him.
I have to admit to using the Alexandrian strategy a time or two. As a kid, and a young cyclist, I was always a fair navigator. I’ve gotten better with time and study. I like to know where I am. I’ve found that folks (most of them) will tend to stay with me, even if they are faster than I am, if I know where we are, and they don’t. Most cyclists aren’t Odysseus, they don’t charge blindly and heroically into the unknown. There, however, exceptions.
I’ve met and become friends with some of these. Here’s the scenario. It’s one of those “beaten path” rides. There is a newbie present. He, she, or they, are new in town, and have no vague clue about the route, or the area. But they are strong, happy, on a bike, and it’s a nice day. “Let’s ride!” While out on the ride, I see them blow a turn. Not just miss it, but charge past it, head down and all out. I pursue, ride them down, and the conversation goes like this.
ME: “Do you know where you’re going?”
NEWBIE: “Huh? No.”
ME: “I didn’t think so. You just missed the turn, and if you keep going this way, you should reach Macon, just after sunset.”
NEWBIE: “Oh. Should we turn around?”
ME: “Yes. And I’d suggest you stay with me for the rest of the ride.”
Alexander and Odyesseus together again.
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