On Sunday I had another bike training ride, out in the dreaded hill country again. The good news is, that after thinking I would die after the first ride out there (40 miles) I pushed through and rode 50 this week. Of course the not-so-good news is that the ride was technically 65 miles but the slow group was just so damn slow we had to take a short cut so we were not riding all day. Between the hills (oh the hills….) and the headwinds I arrived back at my car in a heap of sweat and icky, somewhat disappointed in the lack of a brass band playing in joy and triumph at my arrival.
You can imagine how I felt when, by sundown, the Pope had not contacted me regarding my upcoming Sainthood. I mean, people, I rode 50 miles! In the wind! With hills. HILLS. MANY HILLS, covered in squished lizards and frogs, which, ew. Gross. I prefer my rides squished-reptile-free.
The disappointment I felt can only be compared to that of a 10 year old who waits their entire birthday for the owl from Hogwarts. To prevent this, when I have kids, they will be allowed to start the series at 10 years and one day old. Just to be sure.
Every week I learn something new when I ride, and this week the all-important lesson is that bike shorts are a poor substitute for mosquito spray. My entire backside is covered in angry red bites. Awesome. Also my bike-tan is coming along quite nicely. I look great y’all. JUST GREAT!
After coming down a particularly steep hill, flying through horse fields, we passed riders coming from the other way. I sent them a look of sympathy, a nod among friends, as the hill they were about to grind was one for the record books. Oddly enough, they gave me the same look, but I didn’t think much of it until I realized the horse fields were in the bottom of a little valley, and the hill we had to grind up on the other side was even worse than the one we’d just flown down. I stopped half way up, momentum gone, muscles shot and stumbled my way up, pushing my bike, gritting my teeth. My carbon sole shoes with their clip are not easy to walk in and I kept slipping onto my knees, sliding down as I tried to crest to the top. When I finally got there I swung back onto the bike I flipped the hill the bird. Adios, jerk.
Please imagine the look on my face when our route doubled back on itself and I had to climb the hill again.
I made it up the whole way on my bike the second time, and all I can say is that if I’d had to ride it again? I was calling a cab, while kicking the damn hill right in the pavement.
After coming home and washing off the salt crust and enjoying brunch – the visions of which get me through those last 10 miles- I took a small nap with the dog. Upon waking I was quite certain my joints had fused together. There was no other explanation for the phenomenon, but lets just say that for the next few days, I’ll be hobbling. Walking is over-rated anyway.
Besides, this guy is super excited for me to be home-bound:
Photo by Daisy’s Aunt
I have come to the conclusion that your continued weekly bike rides can only mean you are a masochist.
Check back next week. In theory I’m riding 70 miles. Bwahahahaha.
is it super cheesy to say your inspiring? well, you are!
i did 22 miles on my bike yesterday and reading this post (as hellish as the hills sound) is a motivator. congrats on the ride!
Aww thanks so much. I hardly think of myself as inspiring, but if you say so, I’ll go with it!
I’ve never ridden a bike. Thank you for validating that particular life choice for me.