Thursday Night Ride--Road Style

A new feature I may add will be the Thursday night ride as we race towards the Spring and Summer riding season. Tonight's ride was an unintended Mini-Hammer TT Effort. As usually I got home late from work and needed to pick up my daughter from soccer practice around 7p.m. So after the mad dash and chaos of looking for my kit, finding my kit, dressing, filling up water bottle (only 1-no time to fill up 2), pumping air into the rear tire, hunting for helmet, couldn't find, finding back up helmet,gloves, oh crap-heart rate monitor, upstairs, strapped and ready, ipod? F-it, no time...

I rolled onto my drive way about 6:15 pm. I thought I could squeeze out a Mid Hammer Loop, that is of course IF, everything went according to plan: Leave work on time,pull into driveway, up the stairs, bedroom change (of course my kit would be on the bed waiting), water bottles at the ready, pump the tire and go. LOL.

Mini Hammer it would be, of course I didn't decide that until I got onto Route 3 North. 4 minutes onto 3. Not bad. May be I could do something today. Legs were feeling, OK, better than yesterday's lunchtime ride where the legs felt like hard rubber (previous mag trainer session to blame or credit-all on how you look at it).

I was feeling good as I focused up Route 3 towards JCT 165. The unwashed red Cannondale motored up the road, black Spinergy Rev X choppering the wind, whirring like Lance Armstrong on his mag trainer before the day's stage. I was feeling like myself. Strong. Confident. Powerful. A good day in the saddle. Gone were the doubts, the negativity or sense of loss from prior years to now. There was only now. Now. And it was beautiful.

I crossed JCT 165 at the 22M37S mark. Crap for a personal best but good for the 2010 season. Real good. I sailed down 165, focused in fixed aero position. Blew past where Randy's 'new' Victory Cycle's street was...is..however you want to say it. Top speed 40.14 mph. I hammered through the 95 under pass. I was feeling freedom. Chanting my developing 'new' mantra on the bike: "Pedal Faster Mother Fucker" , "Because I Can" , "Go Faster."

I turned onto Arcadia road. I tried not to look at the house we almost bought. I was too focused on the Now and road ahead. Don't look. Pedal. Pedal. Pedal. Quick glance-damn it. But I didn't dwell on it like usual. That house like the ride behind me was just that, behind me.

I reached Blitzkrieg Trail. I thought to myself, in prior years I could maintain 20 mph on this section of road with my mountain bike. Quick look down on the Road Bike's cpu: 22.34 mph. Keep going.

Right up to Skunk Hill. Sprint this section-mail box to telephone pole. Right onto my street. Kick it. Legs could feel we were approaching home, approaching the line, approaching rest. Quickly I envisioned collapsing on the grass after crossing the line, splayed out, spread eagle-bike between my legs, out of breath, waiting for the Angel of Death to sweep down to me and whisper "You can rest now."

I knew it was coming, the marker to sprint toward the finish, the break in the road where it looks like 2 different types of tar had been used for my street. That was the unofficial sprinting marker. I grunted like an angry animal. Legs full of pain. Lungs gulping globs of air. Rocket. Rocket. Rocket. I crossed the line: 00:42:16.

I felt satisfied. The first time in almost a year since my injury.