Interesting. We have always had a pecking order for who is the fastest on the bike. This has been great fun and another way for fake humbility – aka: sand bagging. The latest “sizing up” competition is who is funny and who is not. I’m so on tilt that it doesn’t matter anymore (at least to me). I’ve been verbally brutalized as of late. Reminds me of the time I tried to be funny and Mark apologized on my behalf and said I was just in kid mode – affectionately dubbed “pee pee poo poo pants.” I could always come back with some sort of bicycle accomplishment but those days/times seem to be a long time ago now. In my mind I’ve been here all along, but in reality I’m far removed from the cycling culture (which is not where I want to be). It reminds me of the time I made it back to cycling and Terry asked Chris “who’s that loudmouthed new guy?” So it’s time for a comeback from all the comebacks. Ronnie and I are in self-improving mode so I think I have at least one buddy. I’ve recently been called out – more so than in a long time. At this point I don’t get to ride, I HAVE TO RIDE. Can you imagine Terry gets off his liquid plumber and kicks my ass on the bike? I will never live that down.
So… in an effort to spend more time with my friends AND ride my bike, I make it out to the Yet Another Steve ride on Thursday. Now maybe it was the two weeks of oxycodone and bed rest, maybe it was the lack of muscle memory OR maybe it was this little piggy went to Piggy’s too many times, but the fastest 30 minutes in cycling blew to pieces at around 1 hour. On my excuses side of the brain my knee was hurting and I had crashed hard twice (once less than a minute into the ride). I had been feeling great on the ride but we had a quite a few start-stops. I do better when we without the stops. For some reason it takes me quite awhile to get the legs back after a stop. Hopefully it’s just a lactic acid thing. And so it goes we had been at the bike wash – getting water bottle refills. Somebody questioned “lap of Tom Brown?” And of course we were off. It wasn’t a face pace but for the second time on the ride my legs just went to noodles – barely capable of making forward progress. Jim was behind me talking as my mind was trying to command the pedals. He joked as to why there was such a gap between the group and us. My non-response and lack of speeding up indicated to him that I was indeed not joking. “Seriously?,” he replied in a drawn out version of the word. He followed that with a new laugh. A soft laugh that you try to stop or stifle – the kind where you laugh and immediately know you should not be laughing. The kind where you have no way out of the laugh but to clear your throat or golf cough. He was dead silent. Not sure if he felt bad or was smiling ear to ear, but he had just invented the You Are Pathetic Laugh or YAPL. Feel free to sub in other words but just know Jim is the author. What was I to do? He had just verbally pants’d me and I had NOTHING left in the tank. It did not matter that nobody else was around. Rule # 5 kicked in and I hammered – at least for a few minutes. 🙂 Drag on