I played hooky from work on Monday (okay, so it was scheduled time off, as I'm not fond of getting fired) and took advantage of a gorgeous day to put in some miles. 63 miles (a.k.a. 100 kilometers, a.k.a. a metric century) in just under four hours -- not bad for a middle-aged fat dude. Even paused to snap the trailside shot above (I'm standing on a paved rail-trail in case you think I was doing some kind of insane Rapha-esque epic road-bike off-road tour). Not sure where the giant red rock came from, but I'm guessing the farmer who found it in his field once upon a time wasn't too pleased. Glaciers have quite the sense of humor. And, being a country boy (yes, my parents were teachers, but we lived on a farm -- it counts!), I can't resist a shot of rusty old farm equipment.
At some point in the excursion, I toyed with the idea of stretching it to one of them 'murican centuries, 100 miles. But, with my average speed dropping, that was going to be at least another three hours in the saddle, and -- letting the discretion in my valor show -- I realized I just didn't have it in the tank. Now, two days later, I'm glad I didn't. I still have aches in places I forgot I had muscles. It makes me wonder if "big distance" (he said, realizing that 100k is a nice warmup for some of his readers named Steve) just isn't worth it for me any more. I'd rather bang out 30 miles and have enough spring in my step to captain the tandem the next day than double that and be utterly worthless for 72 hours.
Or, maybe I'm just out of shape. Food for thought, I suppose.
1 comment:
congrats on the 100k!
If it makes you feel any better, I might do one century a year anymore. Just not that many occasions come up, and it's not that interesting to just grind out that many miles by yourself.
Steve in Peoria,
btw, was that a manure spreader?? Is there any significance in that selection??
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