The road bike season is wrapping up, just as the weather is getting ideal to be out lubed up and Lycra’d out. Summer riding for all intensive purposes; sucks. Too hot and too humid for my blood. I don’t like sweating before a crank is turned and come the end of the block is drenched in sweat and now a magnet for every little yucky morsel that happened to have been floating through the air.
I went out for about 47 miles today. No event on the horizon, no better reason to be riding than just for the sake of it and of course padding my Strava stats. Maintaining fitness is now part of my lifestyle now. I’m not a prude about it as I can still hike up my skirt and let a little debauchery enter my life. I am only happy in balance.
There’s a little more joy in each revolution come this period in the season. You either made your benchmarks and are gleaming with pride or did not and hang your head in shame. Mortality like “sucking” are hard pills to swallow. If you’re, me you pop open a can of Schafers take that pill and sit up. Your competitive cycling season is done. No podium girls for you, no lousy assed participation beer glasses, no funky water bottles or any of that other shit organizers kick-out.
As I was turning the cranks today, I began to wonder why I was even bothering. This point in the season is sort of a no-man’s land. Unless your riding cyclocross in the off-season or polar bear wrestling there’s not a lot to prepare for out there. I kept pedaling as I had to get home and felt that this ride held no obligation. I got out of the drops, rested my hands on the top bar and spun home, just as I had before fancy frame metals, V02 max data and shaven legs became a staple in my life. No aggression, no problem.