This evening we had a one-hour training ride. I sprinted up the first little hill as I always do, and … that was it. My legs and my lungs lost interest for the next several miles. About five of them, to be precise. The Yankee got ahead of me, and I rallied over the next 15 miles. I (truly and sincerely) rode as fast as I’ve ever ridden a half-hour.
I could not catch her wheel. Could not bridge the gap. Couldn’t even keep her in sight.
This is just after a turn around point in the route. She had turned and I was approaching the turn. The timing suggested I wasn’t far behind, which was good, because I already had it figured.
#GoRenGo
There were two little sections of the return route where I would have a chance to catch back up. Two roads that suit my ride a little more than hers.
If I couldn’t do it in one of those two places my only chance was if she got caught in traffic — people here aren’t especially good at intersections and they absolutely freeze up when you add a cyclist into the mix.
Have you ever had this sensation? Your bike feels like it’s floating over everything. Not la volupté, but the sense that your tires are about a quarter inch off the road, when your bike is anticipating the bumps and cracks and turns. Ever felt that? Your legs feel like they are behind you and charging, rather than beneath you driving. Have you ever experienced that? I get it once, maybe twice a year. I assume it is because I’m having a day of nice form. The numbers supported that hypothesis a bit today, as this became one of those days. I was impressed by my splits, but I was still not fast enough.
So watch out, USA Triathlon National Championships. She’s coming for you. And she’ll be fast.
Then she did a one-mile run. (Because I am not training for the national triathlon championships, I got to stay inside.)
