Waiting for a break

Seriously, this heat is killing me. I can swim in it and I can bike in it. But there is no way I can run in it. No matter how much I run, it's not getting easier. Hopefully the fall races will show the results of the work I am putting in now.

Friday afternoon Wingman and I went for a ride. It's been a bit windy the last few rides so I try to plan the ride where we go out into the wind and back with the wind. I got home Friday around 2:30p and didn't change my clothes. I sat on the couch and starting reading stuff for my inservice. Next thing I knew the eyes were getting heavy so I turned on the TV and, true to form, I was out like a light in no time. Wingman came home from work and found me half passed out in my work clothes sprawled on the couch. Couldn't have been a pretty sight. I finally woke from my slumber and changed into my riding clothes. We agreed on the route and were on our way. Of course there was a head wind going out. I usually pull us along on the rides since it's me that needs the workout. Wingman comes along for the exercise. So I did my best to channel my inner "PoPo" and pulled Wingman up to the William Floyd Parkway. I would check behind occasionally and he was settled in on my wheel. I was the workhorse for the ride. I knew once we hit the WFP we'd have the tailwind and could hammer away.

The ride was pretty smooth but I had to make one quick stop to stretch my neck again. After a few minutes,  we were on our way. In the back of my mind, I knew our final sprint would be coming. I was trying to gauge how Wingman might be feeling. He said at the start of the ride that he was feeling tired, but I knew not to put any stock in that statement. We rode closer to the sprint zone and I could sense he was plotting as well. When we made the turn to the straightaway, I was in front. I did my best to shift as quietly as possible  and keep my cadence steady. I didn't want to give any hint of when I would make my move. I kept shifting and I could hear him behind me shifting. My heart was pounding at this point. We had ~1 mile to go. It was on now. I was spinning fast. I could feel the burning in my legs. I need to hang on but I could hear the Wingman coming up along side me. I try to shift again, but I look down and imagine my horror when I see that I AM OUT OF GEARS!!!! Crap, damn compact cranks!!! I have no where to go but to dig in and try to ride harder. But now I am no longer spinning circles. My legs are like lead and I am sputtering. Wingman sees that I have no response so he backs off a bit. It's his way of taunting me. I try to pick it up again but he puts the hammer down and beats me to the line.

I spend the rest of the ride home recovering from the ride. I just rode easy to try and flush the legs. Someday I will take back the green jersey, but for now, it proudly rests on the shoulders of the Wingman. One day when he least expects it, I will break away and hold on for the victory.

Next weekend I have another race coming up - the Montauk Sprint Tri. I love this race and it will be interesting to see where I am this year compared to last year. Barring a catastrophe, I think I can do a little better than last year. Not sure where it will come from but on race day I plan on going full throttle. No training day for me!!