I did a DIY 200 yesterday. DIY because there are no organised rides around my way this time of year. And I need to get my legs turning again in readiness for PBP brevets etc. And, besides, I like riding... I think.
I'd set the alarm for 6am but as I'm rubbish with alarms and keep waking up before they go off, I was actually on the road just after 5am. The first 70km of the ride was hilly (around 1700m climbing), and I was pretty shot by the time the 100km mark came up. At 120km, I was considering cutting short the route; the legs asking 'can we go home now?'. I carried on. Mental toughness needs to be practised to.
Anyone can cruise the big ring downhill, or on the flat, but you're only ever as strong as the last climb... and I was tackling gradients with the granny primed, grovelling on 4%. Butter me, I'm toast.
So the thoughts inevitably turn to 'why the f*** am I doing this'. It's not fun is it? Not in the way 'fun' is portrayed on the tele anyway; there was no dancing going on around me, not that I noticed anyway.
There are paybacks, for sure; La Celle-Dunoise at 7am, nestled in a river valley and mist shrouded, was magical - thestorks cranes heading back north in their huge formations, breathtaking in both sight and sound. Stuff like that is transient, you have to be there and - at that moment - in seems worth any amount of effort.
I was home for 4pm, 2800m of climbing in all and the legs felt every metre. I'll be out for a 100 on Weds afternoon - I'm sure it'll be fun. If I could just work out what fun is.
Edit: they're cranes not storks, 'grue' in French'
I'd set the alarm for 6am but as I'm rubbish with alarms and keep waking up before they go off, I was actually on the road just after 5am. The first 70km of the ride was hilly (around 1700m climbing), and I was pretty shot by the time the 100km mark came up. At 120km, I was considering cutting short the route; the legs asking 'can we go home now?'. I carried on. Mental toughness needs to be practised to.
Anyone can cruise the big ring downhill, or on the flat, but you're only ever as strong as the last climb... and I was tackling gradients with the granny primed, grovelling on 4%. Butter me, I'm toast.
So the thoughts inevitably turn to 'why the f*** am I doing this'. It's not fun is it? Not in the way 'fun' is portrayed on the tele anyway; there was no dancing going on around me, not that I noticed anyway.
There are paybacks, for sure; La Celle-Dunoise at 7am, nestled in a river valley and mist shrouded, was magical - the
I was home for 4pm, 2800m of climbing in all and the legs felt every metre. I'll be out for a 100 on Weds afternoon - I'm sure it'll be fun. If I could just work out what fun is.
Edit: they're cranes not storks, 'grue' in French'