Last long brick...........that just happened. I set out at 8 am this morning for a 120 miler followed by a pansy ass 6 mile run. I'd been dreading it all week......cuz I've had it! I'm done with long rides. I'm done with going to the boring ass Walmart parking lot in Zebulon and torturing myself over the same hills, out and back, for 100+ miles all by myself. I'm done with this freakin' heat. I'm done with singing "This is gonna good be a good life" (Onerepublic) over and over again, or "Take me, t-t-take me, fill me with your love juice, blah blah blah blah blah blah." I don't know the words. The beat kept me going though.
So, I did this one from the house - to get it over with quicker, to make it flat and fast, to see what I could do without the hills. Last week's 6 hr ride was in the mountains, and I didn't see a flat section anywhere anyway. It was just time to hammer out here amongst the wheat fields and houses with Christmas lights still on them.
Phillip Rowan met me at mile 7. He didn't like it when I showed up with the aero helmet on spitting that this wasn't going to be a pleasure cruise and I meant to hammer. "Well, you should already have confidence after the half iron you did the other week!" he said. I joked that I wasn't going for confidence.......I was going for arrogance. (that's another story) I gave him a chance to pee, cuz I wasn't planning on stopping for that, and we rolled west.
It wasn't fun. At all. I willed myself not to be social. I don't know what Phillip was thinking about back there to pass the time. "This is gonna be a good life......" kept rolling in my head, and some '80's song I can't remember.
We were on some horribly boring roads. I had chosen highways over country roads so we'd have the right of way and fewer possibilities of hitting stop lights or signs. I had no intention of letting anything disrupt the momentum. Traffic was a constant. Boredom was even moreso.
I think it was around mile 40 that Phillip turned around. We had just spent 5 miles on a country road that was chip-sealed and covered in sand. It was the kinda road that makes you wonder why you're out there at all. It got a lot lonelier after that. I had no idea where I was, but I was heading west still.
At mile 60 I turned around. Average pace was 22.0 mph. I stopped at a gas station for fluids and let the legs take a mile or so to wake back up. At this point, I wanted to drive the pace up as far as I could all the way home. So I turtled the neck to soak up every advantage the aero helmet was giving me and I pressed the pace. 22.1.........22.2.......back to 22.1........wtf?........back to 22.2.........22.3........wait a minute. I just passed 100 miles at 4:29! This ain't the race! I'm dying out here, man. Reassess. Okay, nail 112 miles and you can ease up the last 8. Those next 12 hurt. 6 days out of the week and the thought that I have a chance at a Kona slot hits me several times all day long. But every Saturday, doing these long bricks, I hurt. I don't wanna. I want my mommy. I want to be in that redneck pool I just passed. I want a beer...and a whole lotta wine. I want my life back.
I hit 112 miles just before the clock hit 5 hours. Cooked and dried up, I set to slackin'....but called it a "cool down." I didn't see a pothole, nailed it, and both hands came off the aero bars and chest planted onto the arm pads. I don't know how I saved it. God intervened, I suppose. A couple visions of a broken collarbone, and I was over it. And I was out of water too, as well as any food.....which is a kind word for gel. I might have ingested more calories over the last 4 months from gel and liquids than from real food. If I started a gel brand I would call it Turboslop.
Once home, I needed to regroup before the molehill of a 6 mile run that had now become Mt. Suck It. Angie offered to load me up on recovery drink (it wasn't time), ice, and I'm-not-sure-what-else-cuz-I-was-out-of-it. She was trimming hedges in the heat - her face beat red. I was playing on my bike. I wanted to trim hedges. Neighbor dude was helping her, asking me if I was insane.
I drank a Diet Pepsi, an Ironman Perform, a bottle of water. I grabbed a glob of grapes and stripped to nothing. I got in a cold shower to wake me up. I took a dump. It had been turtling on me since around mile 80. Shorts on, shoes on, flask of ice water.....let's roll.
7:30 the first mile. Flask is leaking. Cheap piece of crap. 8:00 minutes the second mile. Bummed a water refill from a fireman cleaning his driveway. Crap. I didn't stop my watch. Now I gotta make up that time. No runs allowed over 7:30 pace and now I'm 2 minutes over. Next mile 7:00 pace. Next mile I dunno. I forgot where the marker is. Next one and what little math the brain is capable of at this point says a 6:50 will do it. Bam.....I'm home in 45:00.05. Nailed it. And cooked. Whathehayelwuzzat?!?!
Angie dropped me in the ice bath, loaded me up on Ultragen, and I cleaned off. I went to tell her I was hitting the sack and she passes me a plate o' pasta and a beautiful roast beast sandwich that woulda cost $14.95 at some posh bistro. Head on the pillow singin' "this has gotta be the good life.........."
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