It was a nice morning this morning, thought I, as I awoke to the strains of my bicycle bell alarm clock, climbed out of my bed, adorned with a livestrong duvet set and and poured a cup of Eddy Merckx coffee into my Tour de France mug (yellow, naturally). "I know!" thought I, standing in my Bianchi pajamas "I'll head over the river for a nice wee training run!"
That's not quite how it went. I don't eat sleep and breathe cycling (nearly, but not quite). I've been up all night, writing up a cv for a career planning class- just like a real student! But I was determined to head over the river for a nice wee ride.
Unfortunately, the weather had other designs on this. 30 MPH wind style designs. In my face. I got about 5 miles out and collapsed in front of a conveniently placed local purveyor of foodstuffs and the like, gibbering something about chainrings and "la forme". Even the sugar-tinged orange bevarage known as IRN-BRU (never without all caps. It's tough stuff). Couldn't revive me. So I headed back.
There's a lesson to be learnt here. Check the weather first. Unlike hills (see previous posts) you cannot fight the wind. You can swear at it as much as you want (there was much "Ahabing". But you can't fight it. Know when to give up- the strength to do so is as important as the strength to keep going. But it does help if you give up at the top of a hill rather than the bottom ;-)
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