Early morning rush

This morning's ride was one for the record books -- well, for my personal record book, at least. To be honest, I am not sure how or from where I mustered the energy. Yesterday I rode for an hour in the morning, then did a full weight session plus a run after work. I was so tired this morning when the alarm went off that it seemed as though my eyelids had been permanently fused shut. But I absolutely cannot pass up an opportunity to cycle. The season is too short, and the Park too perfect at six o'clock in the morning to stay in bed. One cup of coffee later and I was able to clip in and ride off.

As we got going, Zdenek said that we probably had time for only two loops this morning. Perhaps it was the knowledge that my ride would be 20 minutes shorter than usual that motivated me to work hard for the remaining 40. I'm not sure. But about one mile in, we were pushing the pace and I was enjoying it. I climbed Harlem Hill -- unassisted -- with every ounce of determination and power I could find, and Zdenek congratulated me at the top for a job well done. We finished the first loop a good 45-60 seconds faster than our usually solid lap time, and Zdenek asked whether I wanted to push again on the second loop. I replied, "We can try, but if I can't keep up, I won't keep up." But I did keep up. The whole way. And we finished that second loop in the fastest time I have ever clocked (save maybe once last season when I was drafting at the back of an entire pack of cyclists). True, I drafted off Zdenek this morning, too (and had a stranger drafting off me), but I still worked to my maximum capacity. My heart rate monitor will back me up on that one!

We cooled down with an easy four mile ride (so much for having time for only two loops), during which Zdenek remarked that he thinks I missed my true calling: I should have been a cyclist. Had I started earlier, I would now have the technical and handling skills that can only be cultivated over many years of riding. Certainly my body type (short, with thick legs) seems better suited for athletic endeavors on two wheels than on two feet. A few weeks ago on a ride together, Caitlin also asked me whether I've considered bike racing, because she thinks my riding skills and ability are now strong enough to make me competitive in the (very) minor leagues. (Unfortunately my tire-changing skills still need some work, though I am proud to report that I did handle 75% of the job on my back wheel last week.)

I'm not sure how I feel about bike racing. The difference between a bike race and, say, a full or half marathon, is that competitors actually try to win bike races, while most running "races" consist of a handful of serious competitors leading thousands (if not tens of thousands) of recreational runners. But anyone who is daring and motivated enough to enter a bike race is not what one would call a "recreational" rider. No, three seasons of riding have shown me that cyclists are a serious bunch, and it takes a great deal of skill, technical equipment, and dedication to keep up with them. I'm also unsure how I feel about the prospect of crashing in a race -- the early stages of Le Tour have once again confirmed that cycling hard in a pack of riders is an invitation for an ambulance ride. (Perhaps I need to consider triathlons, in which I can ride solo and drafting is forbidden.)

In any case, it still amazes me on an almost daily basis how much I love this sport, and how I do wish I would have discovered it sooner. There are few activities more exhilarating than a hard, fast bike ride, and there are few things on television that I'd rather watch these days than a professional cycling race. Running may remain the purest, most accessible form of activity (and nothing beats training for and running a marathon for a sense of a triumph), but it can't compete with cycling for the adrenaline rush. And this is especially welcome when I can barely open my eyes in the morning.