spank you very much

Wednesday night I made it out on the group road ride for the first time in about a month and boy did it show. I got out of work a bit late (or should I say, I wasn't able to sneak out as early as I had hoped) so I had to drive part way there. I parked in the ghetto of Waldoboro, mounted up and spun the 18 miles in at a comfortable pace and rolling into the Maine Sport parking lot with 5 minutes to spare for the 5:30 start time. After a very short neutral roll out I stupidly (I would find out later at least) went to the front and started to push the pace taking several hard pulls and playing around by shooting off the front on occasion, dropping back and then going again. In short, I was feeling great.

The start. Check out the guy in the yellow jersey. He had his jersey tucked into his shorts (on purpose). I wanted to smack him up side the head but I didn't cause I'm a pus.

Before long, though, I started to notice some cramping signs in my calves. Uh-oh. So I dialed it back a bit and hoped to come out of it. Unfortunately, when the next gradual climb came (I did 4000 feet of climbing total during the ride) the calf cramped and I shot out the back as I watched the lead group disappear over the hill.

Off the back.

I wanted to cry but I figured I couldn't afford to lose the electrolytes. I figured my best course of action was to guzzle some heed and perpetuem and hope it would pass. After about 30 mins (felt more like 90) of sheer suffering in the land of bonk I noticed my head beginning to clear and my legs starting to turn over more quickly. Together, myself and another co-bonker worked our way back to the front and regained contact with the lead group.

Once with the lead group I told myself not to do anything stupid like take a pull, make an attack etc, just sit in for a bit and wait for the strength to really come back. Unfortunately, as always happens when I ride in a group, I couldn't stick it and before long I was feeling anxious and heading to the front. After a few pulls and a couple of attacks I was feeling great again.

Soon after, we were pulling back into Maine Sport's parking lot at the end of the ride. I now had a choice to make, ride the 18 miles back to Waldoboro and potentially suffer like a dog or take a ride from Mad Mike and hang my head in shame. I chose to suck it up and ride back to the car. After heading out I realized the energy levels were getting low again so I had some more heed and perpetuem and settled into a nice easy pace-one that could get me back even within the worst of bonks. An hour fifteen later I suffered up the final climb and descended to the car with 3:47 and 68 miles in. It wasn't my best ride of the season but I figure it was very good training for the longer races coming up over the next couple of months.