Skipping a Day

So I didn't ride on Monday. Skipped a day. The weather was great, all systems were go, but I guess I just didn't feel like getting myself out the door. I turned off the alarm, rolled over, and stole an extra hour of sleep. It was good. I didn't feel guilty. Really. I didn't -- much. Got to work early, left work not too late, had a big salad and a couple glasses of wine, and went to bed early. Ten minutes later, around 11 pm, I found I wasn't really all that sleepy and wandered off to finish up the LCCS points rankings and update the LPMA website, which is another one that I do just because I'm a nice guy. Just one more LCCS event this year - the time trial on Sunday - and we'll call the LAMBRA road season a wrap. Then everyone can start dreaming up ever more complicated ways to score the races for next year in order to tilt the points in their, or their team's, favor.

It was so much simpler back in the old days when we had just road race and time trial state championships. The road race would be in the middle of the summer with a minimum distance of 110 miles and everybody would start together. There was not feed zone and no sports nutrition and thin nasty leather chamois. Typical gearing would be 52 x 45 on the front with a 14-18 5-speed freewheel. A field of 20 seemed huge. You'd start with maybe four water bottles, a pump, spare tubular, apple slices, raisins, and bananas, just hoping you could hold off your own bonk until everyone else with you had also bonked. There was usually no following car, no corner marshals, and the local police had likely not even been informed. The last fifteen miles would be down to three or four dehydrated and cramping riders barely able to maintain fifteen miles per hour. The winner would get an automatic upgrade, a medal, and one of the two spots that the state was allocated at the National Championships. Ahhh, such memories!

Tuesday, however, I was back to the usual routine. I clipped in and pushed off down the street and was a bit surprised by how chilly it was. Up on the levee, in the dark, with the stars shining down on us, I noticed a few exploratory arm-warmer wearers, and even a light vest, but I was rather surprised when we passed one guy who was wearing long tights, a long-sleeve jersey, and ear covers. Ear covers? I looked over at Donald and said, "must be colder where he came from," to which he replied, "What's he gonna do when it really gets cold?" I doubt the temperature was below 60F. Even I can survive that sort of thing with a short-sleeve jersey.

Anyway, I know I keep saying it, but it was really, really dark this morning. The group, which eventually numbered at least 15, took it pretty easy until visibility improved. The unlit runners and walkers and even cyclists just seem to pop up out of nowhere under those conditions, so going fast is really not a wise choice. We were all the way out past the airport before I finally turned off my headlight, but by then the group's consensus speed had settled on something in the 24 mph range, and even at that there was a number of riders at the back just sitting on and spinning. Even the return trip started out at a moderate pace, which was good because by then a little bit of headwind was starting to develop. After we picked up Mark G., though, the pace started to ramp up a bit, and for a little while we were pushing pretty hard into the upper 20s. Otherwise, it was just a routine training day on the levee and another 40 some odd miles in the legs.