Trashy legs

That’s how my legs feel. TRASHY. Trashier than a group of trailer trash. They are so trashy in fact that I had to bail on my scheduled work out this morning because I couldn’t give it the intensity it needed. I botched my recovery and I paid the price today. This is the way it goes. Today’s lesson is this: you can’t follow a bonk with hard hill work out. There just isn’t enough in the tank.

I kind of saw this coming. For once I had plans to ride with someone instead of by myself. I left late and didn’t stop by New Seasons to get bar. Still I had 360 calories in my water bottles so I knew that it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

I knew we were screwed when cliff turned to me and asked “If I had an extra gel?”

We managed to keep things together until we got reached the intersections of Skyline and Thompson. Then our pace slowed, a lot. I was more concerned about keeping the bike upright in the wet and rapidly decreasing temps. Oh yeah, it was dark too.

Cliff hurt, he was much deeper in the hole than I was, but I’ve also got a bit more to burn. He was starting to fall apart, I was starting to fall apart and we turned down NW Germantown.

Cliff has been riding much longer than me, and as such his descending skills are black diamond to my first day on the bunny slope. He tucks down and is gone, aided by the lack wattage from my light and the curves of the road.  I try to follow, but soon Cliffs rear light is a distant memory I’m just fighting to stay alive. The cars are pilling up behind me and the curves sneak up in front of me. I’m shaking and I’m sure this is the highest my heart rate has been the entire ride.

When I bought my light the guy at Bicycle Gallery tried to up sell me by 100 bucks saying “You don’t want to go faster than your light”. At the time I thought “What the fuck does that mean” now I know all to well.

I cut sharp turns, grabs massive handfuls of brake and now I’m sure that my front break pads are gone. Lucky for me I hit the final curve and enter the run out to NW Bridge Avenue. I finally catch up with Cliff and we head across the St Johns Bridge. Once across I admit that this was only my second time down Germantown. My legs are still shaking a bit, but now I think its because I’ve slammed into the same wall Cliff hit a while ago. We talk about stopping and getting some food, but we’re close to Cliff’s house.

Before Cliff turns off he asks me if I’ll be ok. “I’ve got a bit more left I can make it”. The next 45 minutes tick by slowly. I feel like I’m going fast, but every check of the computer tells the truth. My hands are frozen and I haven’t felt my toes in over an hour. I limp the rest of the way home.

At home my lady brings me hot tea as I lay on threshold between our bed room and the kitchen and pull off my soaked clothes. It takes a bit for me to recover to the point where I can form complete and coherent sentences. I only start to feel fully human at the dinning room table wrapped in a blanket and shoveling spoonfuls of jambalaya into my mouth. We’ve got someplace to be in an 90 minutes and I still have to wash the road off my legs.


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