The Good And Bad
It was nice to finally have a good race last weekend at the Hilly Billy Roubaix. Good for me that is. Top 10s, 5s and podium spots are no longer on my radar. Racing for me now is holding on to my last shreds of fitness, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, covering events for work and just enjoying the "experience" of mountain bike racing is what I look for now. Maybe that will change in the coming years, but for now that is the way it is. That is not a bad thing and I am by no means crying in my beer about my racing. Just sayin'.
Like I said it was nice to come away from a race not feeling like a total douche bag for once this season.
It was also nice to come back from my trip to Pennsylvania feeling good about riding. My rides on Tuesday and Wednesday were the tits in every sense of the word (except for the sense of the word were it means heaving female mammary glands). In fact Tuesday was downright pleasurable; no wind (can you believe that shit??), sun, nice temps and dirt and gravel roads out my flabby, 40 year old yin-yang (that's code for my ass). I was happy to be home.
Wednesday was a bit more of the same, with a bit more wind, a bit more pavement and a bit more heat. But it was still good. Nothing to complain about (GASP!).
That shit is alllll good. But now here we are on Thursday and a pre-ride for the MMCC Sweat Shaker coming up on Saturday. Hmmmm.... Well, today it sort of went pear shaped.
My back has been stiffer than a Viagra addicts crotch on the porch of a college campus whore house (not that such a thing exists) since the 14 hour round trip to PA and back. I mean it's STIFF and even a trip to the chiro couldn't help it today. Stiff.
So my back (BACK!!!), combined with heat that was roughly the same temperature as that of the sun (if the sun was located betweenst the buttocks of a 500 pound bedridden man in the middle of a Mississippi heat wave) and legs that were deader than Betty White (she is dead, right?) made for a ride that I am anxious to forget. In fact... What ride??
OK, I remember now.... I just didn't have it. The race is a nugget hair under 30 miles (2 laps with the new MMCC shit I believe) and I had planned on riding at least 1.5 laps. As it is (was) I rode less than one full lap. Yep, just 10.5 miles and headed home. I believe the term "fuck it" was used 2 to 6 times during the ride and the car trip home. I will use it again for dramatic effect- FUCK IT!
So what does all this mean? Nothing really (especially to you). I would normally have taken today off the bike having ridden 2 days in heat back to back and coming off of a race, but I got greedy... That and that it's "from-un-dah fat man balls" hot don't forget that. I just didn't want to ride tomorrow with the race on Saturday.
Oh yeah the race. Ah.... no? It's going to be 95 degrees or some such shit on Saturday and the Expert 40+ races doesn't start until 1 PM. Fucking brilliant. I believe a wise man (me?) once said- "Fuck it." I might try to get up early and head out for a nice dirt and gravel ride before the sun starts baking shit up.
Damn I HATE the cold, but my fattening ass can't take this heat shit either. "Fuck it."
Oh yeah, it looks like the Tour de France starts this weekend. What was that phrase again?