Back in the Saddle

Finally a weekend where I got two rides in! Saturday was brutal as the cobwebs and moist chill left the ol' FM feeling creaky (in lieu of croaky). A late start meant the N2 should have passed my rendezvous at 7Locks & Tuckerman, but miraculously (for me) they were passing through only about a minute ahead, but the "miracle" was thanks to three riders going down in the early morning black ice of RCP. All staunchly stuck it out to do abbreviated rides.

Energized by the catch, I did my typical attack down Glen to get the blood flowing, but the long rollers and a feeling that something was fishy in last nights sushi compelled me to abandon the ride to Poolesville and convalesce home on the regular River Road Route with Phil P and Greg C who was the Fire to the Poolesville Pan. No matter, a crappy day on the bike beats a good day doing most anything else.

Sunday Bicycle Place Ride - my first in like two months! Another late start as I barely caught the back end of the ride as it turned up Massachusetts, worked my way up but we were gapped by the A's. I was looking to do the A- (the old shop course with Whoever would be With Me) but was resigned to lead the B's (not that there's anything wrong with that), taking strong pulls in the slow (but steady!) Clara Barton paceline and then only getting passed by those skinny climbers up Mt. Gate (Note to Self: Work Your Fat @ss).

Brickyard was a clinic of Anger Management. Where was Anglers? How about Great Falls?
I cranked it up and dared others to work, pulling the entire group with only a short breather before cracking the whip down Falls and overtaking a chatting Adam F & Ray Man who quickly joined the fray. Tempo was now up, Game On! It may be February but that's a fine time to do some quad ripping, heart pounding (Power Tap registered null), barn storming, nostril blaring, snot seething, uh, rides.

I rested on Bradley but then had a heckuva lot of traffic to navigate to get into position for Democracy. I did, getting on the wheel of two big guns who led out and left me space for the final attack, but out of nowhere Miguel (Little Mig) comes around and pounced, taking the field sprint ahead of me and Kevin's Dad.

By time we got into the Park, where a rather large contingency took on the Extra Ten, I was fighting some mighty quad cramps (see above), unable to finish strong up the last of the days' hills. 12 more miles to home and I almost collapsed by Chevy Chase Elem., completely bonked.
(Insert Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle Again" here).