Maybe it was when I started making the Thursday training laps a drag race. I got carried away with the speed and competition between riders.
Then I remembered: this is supposed to be fun.
Somewhere along the way of piling up the weekly miles (nearly 200 per week) and climbing hills and attending rallies, it started to wear on me. It became almost like a job to get ready for this ride. It shouldn’t have to be like this.
It stopped being fun. Back over the past two years, my fondest memories are friendly, calm rides with Pam and Alan and Richard and others. We enjoyed the weather, the people and the experience.
It wasn’t a pace line or a speed trial.
I was on a ride this morning with Ed’s coffee bunch and it brought back some memories of those earlier rides–calm pace, moderate miles, conversation on the ride and at the end.
So, as we taper to the end of our training and pack for the trip north, I am reminding myself to stop, breathe and remember that this is a ride not a race. The object is to finish, but it is also about enjoying the journey. I’m guessing those tales of people actually gaining weight riding 500 miles in a week are true.
Pie. Pork chops. Beer.
Now there’s a training diet.
So I’ll be up early to pack and get on the road. And I will do my best not to SAG to the end. I look forward to dipping my tires in both rivers. And I look forward to engaging my friends and fellow riders in fun conversations.
More from the road later.
Relentless
