I have just spent 7 days of a 14-day vacation riding. I rode in Amalfie, Venice, and Borso del Grappa. I did a ton of climbing and got to prove to myself, once again, that I can ride. I will not be winning many races but I can climb, (not like a mountain goat more like a lumbering bear) and I also remembered that I have enough skills to keep up with faster riders. (Drafting covers nicely for lack of talent.) I rode with friends whose riding ability I respect and whose riding ability I could depend on, which allowed me to ride more assertively. I had a great week of riding. I love to ride. I love espresso. I love seeing new sights.
I am truly sad that I am returning to Evanston and that I am not able to ride in exotic locations all the time. I am also having a truly schizophrenic moment. I have a minor regret that I am not a professional rider. The greatest part of bike camp is being treated like a pro. I know, I know it’s the riding that’s the key. However I am a real competitor. I like to win. Realistic expectations suck.
On the other hand winning is not why I ride. I derive great pleasure watching friends ride away with a win. Yet there is no better high then conquering a mountain, establishing a new personal record, or beating a goal that you thought was unattainable.
Simply, the juice is worth the squeeze. That is why I ride. Look for me in Chicago. I am doing intervals.
See you on the road
