I made the snap judgement last night that today would have to be the day to start running on the trails. WinD is leaving for the rest of the week starting tomorrow, and moratorium is next week. The only day we'd be able to hit it would be today. So we did.
I wanted an easy run, and forgot how hard it is to get there from the BNL campus. It rolls! The girls were already panting once we arrived, the high humidity already beginning to take its toll. Well, too late to worry about it... we were in for the long haul.
I ran with half the team, WinD with the front half. I sent them off on a side trail and we never saw them again for the rest of the run. That was a mistake on a couple of counts (we didn't establish a rally point, and I let people head out for the challenging course I shouldn't have). WinD also lost her way for a bit, but all's well that ends well, because they came in with a bit more distance than I planned, but all survived.
Trail Run!
On my way home from practice, Miller called. He wanted 60 miles, and he had to have it by 1 PM. It was 9:37 and I was 10 minutes from home. Worked it out yet? We'd have to do at least 20 mph to make that work.
I looked out the car window. The wind was blowing hard out of the northeast, at least 15-20 mph. That meant a hard trip home. I felt the sweat still dripping from me. My quads ached every time I clenched them. I just didn't have a hard 60 in me, and I knew it.
"Go on, I can't help you."
"I don't have to have 60. How 'bout 50?"
"I don't know..."
Silence.
"Let me check when I get home. I'll call you right back."
You know what happened - we went. And if there is any question about who the better biker is, it was settled today. Two days after the Jim-N-I, I'm still suffering. He isn't. He drug me through that ride, letting me have the easy pulls while he took the hard ones. I noticed, even if he pretended not to. Every climb he effortlessly pulled away from me. All I could do was claw my way back in on the flats.
I was salt-encrusted like a Wendy's french fry when I got home. Miller went home and told WinD it was an easy 50-miler. He was on a different ride than me, because we topped the cut averaging 20 mph for 48 miles. Did I mention the wind? I cruised in after that, not caring one bit what he thought of my manliness.
Miller the Killer.
WinD, John T., and I met at BNL for the swim. That at least went well, and with that, my triple was done.
Easy Swim.
Pace line tomorrow. Don't know how I'll feel, but I'll give it what I have.
I wanted an easy run, and forgot how hard it is to get there from the BNL campus. It rolls! The girls were already panting once we arrived, the high humidity already beginning to take its toll. Well, too late to worry about it... we were in for the long haul.
I ran with half the team, WinD with the front half. I sent them off on a side trail and we never saw them again for the rest of the run. That was a mistake on a couple of counts (we didn't establish a rally point, and I let people head out for the challenging course I shouldn't have). WinD also lost her way for a bit, but all's well that ends well, because they came in with a bit more distance than I planned, but all survived.
Trail Run!
On my way home from practice, Miller called. He wanted 60 miles, and he had to have it by 1 PM. It was 9:37 and I was 10 minutes from home. Worked it out yet? We'd have to do at least 20 mph to make that work.
I looked out the car window. The wind was blowing hard out of the northeast, at least 15-20 mph. That meant a hard trip home. I felt the sweat still dripping from me. My quads ached every time I clenched them. I just didn't have a hard 60 in me, and I knew it.
"Go on, I can't help you."
"I don't have to have 60. How 'bout 50?"
"I don't know..."
Silence.
"Let me check when I get home. I'll call you right back."
You know what happened - we went. And if there is any question about who the better biker is, it was settled today. Two days after the Jim-N-I, I'm still suffering. He isn't. He drug me through that ride, letting me have the easy pulls while he took the hard ones. I noticed, even if he pretended not to. Every climb he effortlessly pulled away from me. All I could do was claw my way back in on the flats.
I was salt-encrusted like a Wendy's french fry when I got home. Miller went home and told WinD it was an easy 50-miler. He was on a different ride than me, because we topped the cut averaging 20 mph for 48 miles. Did I mention the wind? I cruised in after that, not caring one bit what he thought of my manliness.
Miller the Killer.
WinD, John T., and I met at BNL for the swim. That at least went well, and with that, my triple was done.
Easy Swim.
Pace line tomorrow. Don't know how I'll feel, but I'll give it what I have.
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