suns out guns out

Welp I don’t want to jinx it or anything but I think that spring may be starting to spring. Of course, now that I have said this out loud mother nature is going to recant the sunshine and send us back three spaces to snow.

I have been watching the weather like a hawk.  2 weeks ago, I made the comment to someone at work that there was no longer snow in the gutters which meant that I could finally go cycling. No sooner had that thought process escaped my lips did it start snowing. I was more than a little upset but continued to fix my bird eyes on the goal waiting and praying. This week the clouds parted and the old mercury stick showed a balmy 46 which I jumped at. I quickly called Kate and we both dusted off the old cycling shoes, threw some air in the tires and clipped in as fast as we could.

Honestly the sound of shoes clicking into place was one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard and the whole first mile of our ride there was much happy screeching and fast pedaling. We went out with the intention of doing a 7-mile loop given that it was still not exactly perfect weather, we haven’t cycled in 5 months, and there is still a ton of gravel strewn about the roads in the country in the name of slick road prevention. We came to the fork in the road where we can turn left and venture further into no man’s land or turn right and head back into civilization. I asked Kate which way we were heading and she confidently announced that left was fine by her. We decided that we would cycle down to the river bottoms where the great crash of 2018 took place then head back in. What we forgot was that to get to the river bottoms is a 10-mile ride.

 We got to our spot and turned and that is when I felt the consequences of our decision settle in. We had luckily taken water because Kate is clever even though I figured we wouldn’t need it for such a short ride. Turns out I needed it a mere 2 miles in because my mouth was gaping open like a happy canine for the entirety of ride which makes a human mighty parched. What we didn’t take was any sort of nutrition and suddenly my legs were as heavy as though I was wearing cement shoes. I mentioned this to Kate who said oh I have some gels do you want some? I don’t particularly care for gels where as they have the exact same texture as scooping some Vaseline out of the container and I might argue the same flavor. I however was in no position to be choosy about such things and agreed to share one with her knowing full well my water levels were too low to try to wash an entire packet from my gob. It was only after I sucked it passed my beaver teeth that I realized they were from LAST season and were cast off flavors her brother had given her because the bike shop where he works can’t even convince people to purchase them. I made all sorts of heavenly bargains to actually swallow it and then my body being the jerk that it is decided that heavy legs were not a good enough reason to ingest such swill. I immediately started doing the back of mouth pukes. The kind where the offense item in question is not expelled but rather your flesh burns from the bile that leaked out in a half way attempt to clear the road. The bile in turn caused wicked heartburn and a flavor that again could not be washed out because I had a single water bottle not the 2 I needed so along I rode with heavy legs, a burning throat and heat from heartburn that could warm the souls of even the most black soul. I thought that eventually I would get my second wind but my body just laughed and laughed at that notion. By mile 16 I was so ready to be out of the saddle and I stood up to allow blood to flow to my sore extremities. It was a religious experience whereas I immediately knew my legs couldn’t hold me and I felt Lola swerve and I silently screamed out help me Jebus knowing I wouldn’t have the strength to unclip in time to prevent myself from becoming street meat.  I guess my prayers were answered because I didn’t die which was just a little sad since I knew I had more miles to go.

The next 4 miles ticked along and I knew that when it was time to turn for home that my inner endurance athlete wouldn’t allow me to leave the extra half mile on the table so with all that I had I continued to pedal so that we could round it out to 20. As we got to the stop sign in front of my house, I had Kate call the mileage and was mortified to hear 20.5 which meant we circled the block to get 21. We had accidently gone an additional 14 miles. Swinging my leg off the bike was tricky but the endorphins quelled the urge to black out. My boys brought oranges and blueberries as the lights danced in my head and suddenly all the leg fatigue and heartburn in the world didn’t hold a candle to the joy that is the first ride of the season.

I would like to pretend that my life is a fairy tale and that was the end of the story. Thing 2 reminded me that he had an all-area concert that night which meant my now sore body had to sit on bleachers at the middle school for 2 and a half hours! Today my tailbone is asking for a new home and my hip flexors have submitted their request for a weeks’ vacation. Jokes on them for tomorrow we ride again!