Scott Martin
I've been grumpy lately. I'd like to blame it on overtraining, but I guess you have to train before you can overtrain.
Anyway, my mood wasn't helped last week by three incidents. Can you relate ? Feel free to join in.
---Attack of the wheelsucker. It's the Tuesday lunch ride. We always form a double paceline to battle the coastal wind. Everybody rotates, except a rider I'll call Racer X. This joker sits in for miles, then attacks just as the weakest rider (i.e., me) swings off the front. Everybody chases. Our smooth paceline detonates. Racer X gets caught as weakest rider gets dropped. Curse you, Racer X.
---Saggy shorts. I hit my LBS to try on some Lycra shorts. They fit great, in the shop. I fork over the cash and take my new shorts for a ride. I stand to climb a hill. I sit. But not really, because my expensive new shorts are too baggy in the crotch. They snag the saddle's nose. I tug. I squirm. I wonder if hot water will shrink Lycra.
---Wrapper disaster. It's hour 2 of a 3-hour ride. I reach for an energy bar. I tear the wrapper down the center, exactly as the directions dictate. A pretty strip of foil peels off, but the bar remains hermetically sealed. I sit up and pull the wrapper with both sweaty hands. Nope. I clutch it between my teeth and yank. Uh-uh. I hurl my only calories under the wheels of an oncoming truck. Probably shouldn't have done that.
Don't get me started on diesel exhaust, patch kits with dried-out glue, riders wearing socks over cycling shoes in 80-degree weather and anybody who, uh, whines instead of going for a ride.
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