"Rest and be thankful."
William Wordsworth
Yesterday was the second TMD century of the year since mine was canceled. Originally, I had not planned to ride it because I truly prefer rural routes; but because of summer plans I decide I need to in order to get my 10 as quickly as possible. Also, I realize that it is not all about me and the large turn out tells me that many people either like or don't mind riding on heavily trafficked roads. It is just a personal thing for me, particularly in the spring when every day has some new present to offer: a forsythia bush finally blooming, a new trillium in bloom, a different patch of later blooming daffodils. Still, I am retired and there is time to ride and soak in the spring another day. I am thankful that God has given me another spring to explore on a bicycle.
I don't start the ride intending to ride so intensely. Mike Crawford and I ride an easy pace, talking about summer plans and politics since our ideas are similar. The sun is not out, but it is not cold. Still I am glad for wool arm warmers and that I kept my vest on and light long fingered gloves over my riding gloves. I find myself quite enjoying myself when a group passes and it hits me: I want to ride and I want to ride hard until my thighs and lungs beg for mercy. I want to feel my heart beating in my chest, reminding me that I am alive and not so old that I can't move down the road on a bicycle.
I end up spending the rest of the ride with people I rarely ride with, people who normally are far ahead of me and ride at a faster pace: Larry, Roger, and Jon. I pull more than my share and find myself staying mainly in my big ring. In the last quarter, my shifting becomes rough going from the middle to the big ring and I hope that it is me and not the bike. I rode for over a year without being able to shift reliably into the big ring and made many, many visits to the shop before it was fixed. My assumption is that the newer, younger workers aren't used to working on triples. I truly need to learn to do my own bicycle work.
I don't start off intending to pull everyone after the first store stop, but they attach to my rear wheel and we become a group. I actually started off with Mike, but poof....he was gone. Roger said that he asked and he was okay, so I decide not to turn around. It is not really a ride for talking, but it is a ride to make good time. For some reason, I just feel strong. It must be the Pilates and Barre I think because normally I ride much more through the winter. Whatever the reason, we end with a 16 mph average and I am more than satisfied considering the climbs and the slow start to the ride. Towards the end I lag and tire, and Larry takes over the pull.
Now, I realize, comes the hard part: making myself rest the next day. Experience tells me I will feel fine, even energetic in the morning. I will want to do more than I should, maybe even go to the Y. And then it will hit me like a sledge hammer in the late afternoon or early evening. Even going to bed will be an effort. "Why," I wonder, "is it so hard to rest after a hard effort?" I don't know the answer to this question, but I know that if I don't rest, if I do too much in the morning before the hammer drops, recovery time will be extended. So, for today, I will, as Wordsworth advises, "Rest and be thankful." Next time, perhaps, I will ride easier, talk more, notice the scenery. Or perhaps not.
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