Bike-trash:
It was a gorgeous ride today. Humid and overcast in the morning, through some fun, forested rollers through the park...and then a complete vomit-in-my-mouth, hammerfest back to Pismo Beach, and finally home.
I was tired. Dead tired, after yesterday's soul mission on the switchbacks of Black Mountain. It seemed I could barely get my heart rate up, yet I was breathing and huffing as though I were at the end of a sprint. My body was telling me to lay off, but my brain was saying don't waste the opportunity.
The opportunity came by at about 30 in the form of Bob Willems. I grabbed his wheel as he told me there was a sprint point point coming up and we desperately tried to bridge the gap that had already formed. But by then there were already guys coming off the back. I was in no man's land for a while after Bob fell off. But then Mark Watkins came by and I was able to grab his wheel.
We worked well together, reaching speeds of 40mph (we were coming down a false flat with a tail wind) and once we finally hit the back of the lead group, I tried catch my breath and recover just a bit. But they were still moving at at least 35, and it wasn't possible with my fatigue and fitness-level. Oh well, at least I got Mark up there. He noted how fast it was when I saw him again coming into Pismo with a wry smile on his face.
I headed straight back with a large part of the group, and even skipped my last opportunity at the sprint. I was doing enough work this week, and even overextending myself that day, so I was content to roll the west of the way and be entertained by the last minute leadout to the mailbox.
I couldn't wait to get down to the Farmer's Market and relax, take in the town, and then get some sleep. Dinner was lamb shank, perhaps the most tender I've ever had, at Big Sky Cafe.
The scene:
Newt's got a thing for Mascots:
$1 Stella with order of Frites:
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