Been starting to get that nagging feeling of “you shoulda been riiiiiidiiiiiiing!” this past week.
It was pretty obvious that the volume of miles that worked out OK in late 2006 just wasn’t happening as 2007 wrapped up. The calf thing put some no-riding weeks where there could have been some miles, and November was a blip on the timeline - gone before we even managed to flip all the calendar pages in the house. After that bad early winter cycle of injury and illness, December went pretty well, all things considered. But the new year took me to Vegas, weather returned me to Vegas and Vegas kindly gave me something to remember it by (ok, being crammed in more planes than normal and hanging out in airport waiting areas probably didn’t help). I slept through the first three days back. Yum.
In the first fully concious day after that - late last week - I did a little mental math and found a rather startling proximity to the first brevet of this year - the SFR 200K which will take place on January 26th. Which is kinda when that nagging feeling began.
So, I sat with that feeling for a couple days. Sure, I’d sent my money in. But that wouldn’t really prevent me from pulling the plug and just saying, “nope” to the ride. It had been a while since I’d ridden, and some little voice kept quietly reminding me that it wasn’t really helping to obsess on something I couldn’t change. It would, the little voice reminded me, make more sense to at least get out on the bike, stretch the legs and then make a decision afterwards.
Finally got caught up enough to roll out Sunday morning, on a beautiful clear and cool Bay Area day. I’d left a bit later than I wanted to, seemingly forgetting how to get my buttocks out the door and onto the bike. Instead, I fretted about clothing and food and bike adjustments and bag rigging. Momentum was low.
Meandered for a bit, legs feeling loggy and slow, hard and clunky. I missed shifts and wondered who had messed with my bike. But, after a little bit of riding, found a good rhythm on a short hill, enjoyed the speed and spin down the other side, and things began to fall away. The little things, petty annoyances from work, clumsiness and awkward movements, all seemed to drift away like ash on the breeze. I’d missed the time window to meet up with others as they headed up the mountain, but that mattered a little less now. It was probably one of those days where I wouldn’t have offered much to the group.
Ended up circling through Crissy Field, then pushed a headwind all the way home. My cheeks were sunburned but I’d needed a decent layer of wool and windbreaker to keep warm. (See earlier comments on Californians being weather wimps…) Found my wife sitting out on our sheltered back porch, reading the paper and enjoying the sunlight. Joined her out of the wind and things continued feeling better. Nothing hurt, (though my chamois contact zone was a little tender) and I didn’t feel exhausted. Now, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I felt better than when I started. But, that ride - like most - seemed to reset something.
Riding into work on Monday, my legs felt better. The nagging feeling was still there, but now I was remembered things like December’s Lighthouse Ride. If I’d thought beforehand about how many miles that ride covered, I probably would’ve talked myself out of it. But, it went pretty well. And at last year’s brevet, I’d ridden the Quickbeam - the Hilsen has like forty-leven gears on it. That has to count for something.
By Wednesday of this week, the riding had remained consistent, and the first glimmers of efficiencies began to reappear. That evening, I called home after work, told my wife that I wouldn’t be home before Jeopardy! and headed out for the indirect route home.
It turned out to be a gorgeous evening - one of the moments where your clothing matches conditions, the winds seem always to be quartering and never quarrelling with your headway. Away from the main roads, traffic fell away and the only sounds were crickets, choruses of frogs and the humm of the Jack Browns on the smooth pavement. The roadway rose and fell through countless microclimates, and every change could be felt in the air, even though the tastes of exposed salty mud at low tide.
The brevet will happen, I decided somewhere out there, though the thought didn’t seem to have much substance to it. It seemed to drift off easily into the night. I may not finish within the time limit, or I may suprise myself, who knows.
Regardless, on that quiet night, listening to the rubber on the asphalt, watching my light spread out into the darkness ahead, it seemed like a good excuse to get out and ride.