First, the bad news: I didn't even make it out the door today.
Good news is I put in thirty four miles yesterday in the Kona winds heat. That was rough. It was such a nice day, and I had no legs. Although I managed to put in a nice effort, it felt all wrong. I can tell when the ride is going not so good when I have a hard time maintaining a good pace. My stroke is all over the creation and my legs feel like they are of two different lengths.
I did manage to finally make it into Waimanalo though. Every weekend, it seems I wake up and tell myself I'm going to head out there and I never make it. Yesterday, even with dead legs, the weather and the time seemed appropriate so I made the turn at the light and ventured forth.
Waimanalo is not that far away; it only added ten miles to my usual ride. It was nice enough that I'll probably be headed out that way regularly now.
Now about not making it out the door: I came home, fed the dog and promptly fell asleep on the couch with the TV watching me.
I had a surreal moment as I awoke to see the ceiling fan spinning overhead. I felt like Captain Willard in Apocalypse Now; I was getting weaker sitting on my couch as all the other cyclists were out there getting stronger. Instead of the music of the Doors I had the opening theme of Law and Order.
I don't feel too guilty about not making it out today. Well, okay, kinda o'sorta, maybe but not really. I have told myself that I have given up on my weight thing until summer starts, which is next week. Thing is, it felt like my legs were blown.
It's funny. There have been days when I have started a ride feeling like I wasn't going to make it through the next mile and suddenly I can ride forever. Then there are the days when I feel strong as hell and struggle to make it up the hill behind my house. You never know how your ride is going to go until you actually get out there and start to peddle. Okay, now I feel guilty.
Speaking about summer, I may have a job lined up. Or not. It seems it depends upon being able to get students interested in writing about art criticism. And they have to pay for it. We'll see how that goes. I am skeptical and optimistic at the same time. Well, not skeptical, more like realistic. If I was in the ninth grade, would I want to spend my summer writing about art? Do I care about art at all?
Sorry mister, I rather be outside riding my bike!