6 hours is a long time in the saddle. Even if I am riding with a group, which has never happened to me at San Felaso, I am essentially alone. When you get past the shiny parts, the ribaldry, and the exercise riding bikes is about two things.
Life and Death.
I ride with hope of escaping death- making death chase me around and around the back yard until exhausted- it grabs me by the collar and drags me away. In doing so it is only natural to reflect on my life and mete out the accolades and the bronx cheers I feel I have earned along the way.
6 hours is barely enough time to cover the backlog of material from 2008 alone.
Motivation comes from so many different places. When I feel the pace listing to the edge of the trail I can tap into spectacular victories, like the election of Barack Obama, to send a surge into my legs.
When the real pain comes? There is nothing better than bitterness to fuel me. In those moments I will tap into places I would never share with a bunch of rubes on the internet reading about bikes. That feeling you get when you are hunched over after a solid ball-kicking? That kind of anguish turns the pedals best.
I might have to ride it twice.
Juancho
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It’s going to hurt soooo bad. I can’t freakn’ wait. Don’t yell at me if I get in your way.
It’s going to hurt sooo bad. I can’t wait.
go shirtless! death wont be able to grasp nothing but back fuzz man, nothin’!
moderation? better have good nobbies for this slippery slope!
For a six hour, difficult ride, I’d say use whatever you need to use to get through it. Good luck this weekend!
For a six hour difficult ride, I’d say use whatever you need to use to get through it. And, good luck this weekend!
juancho, keep up the inspiration. besides residual gu fumes and pres-elect-obama, i’ve got precious few miles in the legs. so i’ll need some sort of opiate-based painkiller, a damn-happy song or a pre-battle speech by the king-of-the-bikeblogs to rally the troops.
we’ll find no deer on the trails come saturday morning…
I feel you dawg. I carry a secret “fuck you!” bag too. It is covered with poision spikes inside so I try not to get in there to often. When I do I always come out with a handfull of whup ass. I usually pass out and wake up covered in the blood of my foes.
But you know it’s all good.
Great fuel for those desperate moments are grudges. Grind ’em out and cheat death.
When the going gets THAT bad, I’m too busy trying to stay conscious, rather than think negative thoughts.
but I do a 6 hour ride every week.
softy.
“No negative thoughts”
Dali Lama