Saturday was one of those days that pop up once and a while, for every cyclist. I didn't feel all that great when I woke up. The H.O. cooked Friday night, so it's no surprise that I awoke with a sour stomach, but that's a different story for another time...
The group was a good one, but when the tank has bad fuel in it, no group can help you survive a fast tempo ride. About an hour in, I wasn't so much flat as headed downhill. I turned off, deciding discretion was indeed the better part of valor. I feel confident in saying that the remainder of the ride turned into a swordfight. I rode home solo, feeling worse as the day progressed. I think my glycogen stores had been not only depleted, but closed down by the state. I ate and drank everything in house when I got home and still felt terrible. Painting the brick wall in the backroom probably didn't help me either...
Sunday is turning into a joke. It was almost 70 degrees and three of us showed for the 9am ride. I didn't feel great, but am glad I rolled my lazy ass out of bed to go. We headed into West Cola and did the old Gaston loop. Normally, you have a huge tailwind home, but as is normal with any ride I'm on lately, the wind shifted and blew 15 mph in our faces on the way back. Couple that with the 85 degree temps and the copious amounts of tree pollen blowing around, it made for a fun ride. I looked like I had been cast in a jaundiced Kabuki production when I walked in the door. I was YELLOW...
We had a good ride though...thoroughly enjoyable. The more I just ride, instead of having to prove the size of my manhood, the more I enjoy it. I think I may actually forego Thursday rides this Summer and just do the crit for my hard day.
BTW, Claritin D is good stuff...
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