Yesterday’s ride was as good as it gets. After a great club ride on Tuesday, it was a perfect night for a victory lap. I actually tried to take a full hour to make it back to my driveway, covering the 16 miles sitting up to look at everything I normally miss with my head down.
The wind was negligible, out of the west-north-west in the single digits. Not a cloud in the sky. My bike is perfectly tuned and running like the precision machine it is. No creaks, clicks, ticks… just the whir of the chain as I fly down the road.
Wait, no, no, no flying down the road.
I purposely ignored the computer, or at least tried to. Just spinning. Spin, spin, spinni… Dude, who am I kidding. I look down at the computer. 18.3 mph. Into the wind. Oops. Downshift. 17.5… That’s better.
I couldn’t believe how many cyclists I was seeing! Normally I’m lucky to see one, I saw three before the halfway point – and my buddy Mike in his truck.
I stopped at the shop on my way home… I had five miles to go. 999, on the nose.
With the wind at my back I tried to keep it slow but I checked twice and I was north of 21 mph. I chilled out once I headed south, back home and pulled into the driveway at 55m:17s. It’s official. Unless I’m with my kids, my Venge can’t go 16 mph. It’s simply too fast*.
Anyway, I celebrated more, because life is sober is one big-ass celebration, with some cyclist food. Protein, to build muscles…
If you look real close, that’s butter pecan ice cream… Better than chocolate milk, methinks.
*Too fast is relative. If I’m climbing a 6% or better grade, I’ll guarantee you it can go slower than 16 mph. In fact, I believe I’ve had it down to 4 or 5 mph climbing an 18% hill. Forgive me for generalizing… I don’t know how slow I was going – I didn’t bother looking at the computer… I had my attention on the hill.