At this rate, October may not end up on the “big mileage” side of the balance.
Last Monday, I had that sinking feeling of not being quite right. Took note of a couple of sharp coughing bouts, which reminded me that at o’dark thirty the night before I’d bumped around the medicine cabinet to find a cough drop or two because I’d coughed myself awake. I finished everything that needed to be done, headed home and by 5pm, had decided that a brief nap sounded like a good idea.
Which I guess it was, because it lasted until about 2 pm the next day. Dizzy, achey, chilled-to-the-bone, sweating-through-countless-t-shirts. Coughing. Not hungry. Ripping headache from caffeine withdrawal was just an added bonus.
Sounds like the flu to me.
Which meant that the cool kids got to play yesterday at the Lion of Fairfax, and then again today on the SFBA(TNRNCIIN?)* Rivendell Ride.
The Lion had been an iffy proposition at best - speed and/or running work a thing of theory so far this fall. Still, it would have been a good excuse to run around with a bike for 45 minutes or so. Oh, it would have hurt. Kind of like using the wood stove for the first time in the fall - you manage to burn your fingers and singe your eyebrows and that slaps a bit of respect back into your brain. In cross, there’s nothing like that time-warp of “Holy Eddy! This has been going on a looong time!” and then realizing that you are just finishing your first lap.
Unlike life, cyclocross is only painful for a specific, discreet period of time. One of its great design tenets.
According to the Eastern Bloc cycling coach voice in my head, once the cold/flu is in your chest, you don’t press it. So, any idea of racing was nixed early on. But, I was hoping to at least show up and ring a cowbell for Gino, who was in town and had signed up. Watch the power of Chico played out on the fields of Vernon “Lefty” Gomez.
Alas, I was too spinny to safely wield the bells of cow.
I kept hoping that I’d shake it and could limp along for even part of the Riv Ride. This was actually the first planned ride in the area which had been pulled together by the RBW Owners’ Bunch Group. Since I’m more or less involved with that group, it had been something I was really looking forward to attending.
But, by Saturday midday, it was pretty clear that just sweeping the back patio had taken all of my kitten-like strength, and I had to email JimG and Gino to admit that I wouldn’t be showing. When I lamented that out loud, my wife gave me that “you really weren’t even considering beginning to sort of conceptually think of doing that, were you?” look. (I have noted before that she’s a bit smarter than me most of the time.)
Which means that here on the 18th of the month, I’ve ridden eactly twice. Not quite 50 miles. Whoo-hoo!
On the good side of things, one of the stratospheric cable channels was running “Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten”, which I caught most of. Which was pretty great. But I don’t think that was until Thursday or so. Which is when remember getting a little hungry, finally. I think I read Dan Brown’s new book in there somewhere, too. My time line is pretty outta whack at this point. In fact, everything is pretty outta whack this past week. I’m just gaining enough coherency to begin asking myself what the heck didn’t get done this past week. Which ought to keep me busy this week….
Just hoping to start slipping some easy rides back into the schedule. So, here’s to rides yet to come!