Tales From Temecula -- Part 5
There is an overabundance of bullshit in the world, and I find that I’m drawn to that which offers up the least. This would be proven on the Saturday of my stay in Temecula.
We got up early Saturday morning and had breakfast, there would be an hour or two to kill before we all saddled up for our 40-mile ride over the hills of the SoCal canyons. I was told that there would be pockets of 10% grades, and that this ride would average out to be around a 7.5 % grade by the time all was said and done. Quickly doing the math in my head comparing the 5-6% grade of yesterday, I knew this was going to be a pretty damn long day.
You know, not riding for four months comes with a pretty good kick in the ass. I’d forgotten what the effects of those first several rides were a few years ago – um, so we’ll just say that sitting down was a little more challenging than otherwise on day number two of my time in Temecula. We set out, and I sat gingerly.
There was an immediate, huge descent that seemed to spiral straight to hell, and I just couldn’t believe how it kept going and going and going. My only thought at this time was, holy god I hope we don’t have to climb out of this. I halfway thought that this was the same climb out that we did the day before, but to tell you the truth all the hills and valleys were really running together at this point, so who’s to tell…
I kept up, surprisingly, for a decent while. But when we reached the winding peak of the ride I started slipping and losing ground. The hill was long and steep, but even so it didn't seem like it should be that hard. After a while I think it just got to be a bit much, and soon I found myself dropped in a pretty punctuated kind of a way. This is when I revisited old fears.
Like the canyon I started descending more and more deeply into feelings of inadequacy, which then just turned into anger…what am I even doing here with these people? Who goes out and climbs hills on a new time trial bike in effing January? They seem to be able to do it, so it must be me… it must just be me…
The climb was never ending. The second I’d turn a bend there was yet another and I started to feel like Sisyphus pining for progress. This is asinine!
I spun around a few more bends thinking of the Wisconsin hills, thinking of drilling that Michigan mountain so many times last summer, but then I ran out of…enthusiasm. I was convinced that this wind would, in fact, go straight to God. Man, screw this… they must be 20 minutes ahead of me... followed by a barrage of other festive expletives. I got off my bike and leaned against the canyon wall.
As if adding insult to injury, a blur of cyclist in matching jerseys flew by me.
“Hey!, Hello. Hi there, How ya doin’? Hi, Hey, Hey how are ya?….”
Ugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You gotta be kidding me. The second I get off my bike 87 fire engines freight train it passed me? OMFG!
And that did it. Mentally I was all done. Physically, well, I had to get out of the canyon somehow. As I started walking my bike up the next bend I noticed that the road dropped off to my left and I could see the tops of tangerine trees for miles. The road below me was littered with avocados, some smashed way beyond guacamole and some still in tact, but avocados!? I decided that nothing could be that bad with a road full of avocados, and I forgave myself for getting off of my bike. I talked myself out of being too mortified in front of the dimension hopping Justice League of moments prior, and finally resolved, …you can only give what you’ve got… relax, stop making comparisons and race your own race.
And in fine ironic fashion as was becoming the custom of this trip, the second I came to this realization Melanie McQuaid came floating down the bend just beyond me.
“Hey, how’s it going, you OK?” and this is when I lost it a little bit.
“This sucks, getting dropped sucks. I can’t believe how fast it leaves, your endurance, you know? Four months and I can’t believe it’s just gone…” I started crying and turned away without trying to look like I was turning away. This just can’t suck more. Crying in front of the World Champion? God…this is somebody’s joke for sure.
“Hey you should probably take it out of your 53…”
Pause tape.
53 – i.e. the big gear, the hard big metal toothy wheel-like ring thing in the front near your pedals that should you so enlist, makes life a whole lot fu*#!ing harder than it needs to be.
“Wh-what?”
“Your 53, you have it in your 53, here… gear it down all the way, lift the tire… there.”
“I just climbed up to God here in that ring?”
“Heh, it’ll be easier now… come on.”
And just then, all of the self-loathing and doubt and fear and feelings of inadequacy were replaced with a little head shaking and smirking. This so fu*#!ing figures. Damn why can’t I learn anything the easy way…
Around that very next bend and just feet beyond we found Michelle, Stu, Bolder, Wil Smith, Jimmy Archer, Joe (our awesome videographer), Scott, and everyone who’d set out to ride together that day.
“Thanks for waiting…”
“Of course mate, that’s what teammates are for!” I told you Wil Smith was at the top of my cool list…
“She had it in her 53!”
“What!? Why’d you do that?”
“I thought it was geared all the way down… I didn’t look at the ring I guess…”
“Oh man, yeah, well you got some power training!”
We laughed. I felt better. I felt a lot better.
Melanie pulled to the head of the group. As the others chatted a moment more she broke away and called to me, "Hey, come on...let's go..." And the two of us rode on.
We got up early Saturday morning and had breakfast, there would be an hour or two to kill before we all saddled up for our 40-mile ride over the hills of the SoCal canyons. I was told that there would be pockets of 10% grades, and that this ride would average out to be around a 7.5 % grade by the time all was said and done. Quickly doing the math in my head comparing the 5-6% grade of yesterday, I knew this was going to be a pretty damn long day.
You know, not riding for four months comes with a pretty good kick in the ass. I’d forgotten what the effects of those first several rides were a few years ago – um, so we’ll just say that sitting down was a little more challenging than otherwise on day number two of my time in Temecula. We set out, and I sat gingerly.There was an immediate, huge descent that seemed to spiral straight to hell, and I just couldn’t believe how it kept going and going and going. My only thought at this time was, holy god I hope we don’t have to climb out of this. I halfway thought that this was the same climb out that we did the day before, but to tell you the truth all the hills and valleys were really running together at this point, so who’s to tell…
I kept up, surprisingly, for a decent while. But when we reached the winding peak of the ride I started slipping and losing ground. The hill was long and steep, but even so it didn't seem like it should be that hard. After a while I think it just got to be a bit much, and soon I found myself dropped in a pretty punctuated kind of a way. This is when I revisited old fears.
Like the canyon I started descending more and more deeply into feelings of inadequacy, which then just turned into anger…what am I even doing here with these people? Who goes out and climbs hills on a new time trial bike in effing January? They seem to be able to do it, so it must be me… it must just be me…
The climb was never ending. The second I’d turn a bend there was yet another and I started to feel like Sisyphus pining for progress. This is asinine!
I spun around a few more bends thinking of the Wisconsin hills, thinking of drilling that Michigan mountain so many times last summer, but then I ran out of…enthusiasm. I was convinced that this wind would, in fact, go straight to God. Man, screw this… they must be 20 minutes ahead of me... followed by a barrage of other festive expletives. I got off my bike and leaned against the canyon wall.
As if adding insult to injury, a blur of cyclist in matching jerseys flew by me.
“Hey!, Hello. Hi there, How ya doin’? Hi, Hey, Hey how are ya?….”
Ugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You gotta be kidding me. The second I get off my bike 87 fire engines freight train it passed me? OMFG!
And that did it. Mentally I was all done. Physically, well, I had to get out of the canyon somehow. As I started walking my bike up the next bend I noticed that the road dropped off to my left and I could see the tops of tangerine trees for miles. The road below me was littered with avocados, some smashed way beyond guacamole and some still in tact, but avocados!? I decided that nothing could be that bad with a road full of avocados, and I forgave myself for getting off of my bike. I talked myself out of being too mortified in front of the dimension hopping Justice League of moments prior, and finally resolved, …you can only give what you’ve got… relax, stop making comparisons and race your own race.
And in fine ironic fashion as was becoming the custom of this trip, the second I came to this realization Melanie McQuaid came floating down the bend just beyond me.
“Hey, how’s it going, you OK?” and this is when I lost it a little bit.
“This sucks, getting dropped sucks. I can’t believe how fast it leaves, your endurance, you know? Four months and I can’t believe it’s just gone…” I started crying and turned away without trying to look like I was turning away. This just can’t suck more. Crying in front of the World Champion? God…this is somebody’s joke for sure.
“Hey you should probably take it out of your 53…”
Pause tape.
53 – i.e. the big gear, the hard big metal toothy wheel-like ring thing in the front near your pedals that should you so enlist, makes life a whole lot fu*#!ing harder than it needs to be.
“Wh-what?”
“Your 53, you have it in your 53, here… gear it down all the way, lift the tire… there.”
“I just climbed up to God here in that ring?”
“Heh, it’ll be easier now… come on.”
And just then, all of the self-loathing and doubt and fear and feelings of inadequacy were replaced with a little head shaking and smirking. This so fu*#!ing figures. Damn why can’t I learn anything the easy way…
Around that very next bend and just feet beyond we found Michelle, Stu, Bolder, Wil Smith, Jimmy Archer, Joe (our awesome videographer), Scott, and everyone who’d set out to ride together that day. “Thanks for waiting…”
“Of course mate, that’s what teammates are for!” I told you Wil Smith was at the top of my cool list…
“She had it in her 53!”
“What!? Why’d you do that?”
“I thought it was geared all the way down… I didn’t look at the ring I guess…”
“Oh man, yeah, well you got some power training!”
We laughed. I felt better. I felt a lot better.
Melanie pulled to the head of the group. As the others chatted a moment more she broke away and called to me, "Hey, come on...let's go..." And the two of us rode on.
posted by Wil at 12:24 PM
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