I drove over to Manslaughter’s house this morning. He had one of his $20k mountain bikes ready, one with the little seat lever thingy that lets the saddle go way down. I needed that to get my leg up and over so I could sit on the bike.
Riding on a trainer isn’t like riding on a bicycle. For one, riding is a lot harder. For another, the wind was blowing at 20 mph. And there were huge piles of sand on the bike path. And my legs had no strength after five weeks of couch flopping and two weeks of trainer spinning.
Plus, on the bike path I had to climb a giant hill. After the ride, sitting around at Starbucks with Manslaughter and Jeff the Runner, we gave this massive hill a name. Jeff christened it “The Widowmaker.”
It is located about 27th Street and you have to wonder how the bike path engineers got the design approved. It is a killer and I barely made it up and over. Here’s a picture of me hammering it like a beast about 100 feet before I crest the top.
“Do you need a push?” Manslaughter asked.
“I can make it,” I gasped. I dug deep, real deep. As Prez would say, “This is where the gains are made.”
Once we got to the top I rested to catch my breath, legs burning like crazy. Then we turned around and rode about four miles in the other direction. Then we turned around and rode about three miles in the other direction, which put us back at Manslaughter’s.
I was wiped and would have put it on Strava except it would have gotten flagged by everyone. Anyway, my work for the day is done, and I’m worked.
Best Birthmas present ever, Manslaughter. Thanks.
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