Anyhoo it was running through my head this past Sunday as we tackled a short version of the Sausage ride. The clay roads were soaked, which made it seem like riding on shag carpet. We had a pretty big group roll out but it quickly got split up due to a flat on the first section of clay road that had recently been rocked. I got spit off the back of the lead group (the ones that didn't stop for the flat) before mile 20 and ended up riding solo for the rest of the day.
Well that's not really true. I did get to ride with Silk and Tim for a brief period as they went by. I couldn't hold their pace and had to watch them disappear into the distance. I was shooting for a no cramp ride so my speed and effort was down. Not that it didn't hurt, a lot. But, no cramps! Unfortunately I couldn't eat my sausage dog at the end of the ride, in fact, I couldn't eat anything until later that evening. I was shattered. I was still walking around in a daze Monday. Maybe it was the ride I had done on Saturday that set me up for such misery.
The Day Before
Nobody liked my ride idea when I threw it out Friday night. So I left the St. Marks Trail Head alone at 9 am. I do love my forest rides, and while I enjoy company, being by myself has it's advantages. I got a little turned around (which is part of the fun) but had a good loop down to Trout Pond and back. Yes, the bushes were bad in spots, and it was hot with not much shade, but to have nothing around but trees was nice for a change.
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| Leaning against a tree at the old Springhill Pit. |
Florida XC Race
It's this weekend at Tim Brown. I'm in for a GM 1 butt kicking. By that I mean I'm the one who'll get it kicked. Don't care, I'm looking forward to racing anyway.
Then it's Fools Gold, followed by Cross season. Ain't life grand?
Oh, by the way, the song? It was Lobo, 1973.
Oh, by the way, the song? It was Lobo, 1973.
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