Maybe I shouldn't have gone for a bike ride this morning, after a relatively hard ride yesterday [but not overly hard], and a pretty fancy dinner last night, consisting of two especially good bottles of Pinot Noir (2006 Dumol Ryan's Vineyard, and a 2005 Frédéric Mugnier, Nuit St. Georges, Clos de la Marechale), and just rested instead. But I'm a glutton for punishment I guess, and I refuse to let this feeling of malaise, I have been experiencing lately, continue. So I ventured out anyways.
I didn't go with the club, since I got up late (remember those 2 especially good bottles of wine) plus there wasn't a scheduled ride today, as the club was putting on a cyclocross race. Instead I went out by myself, and did my favorite ride, Turnbull Canyon.
I knew I wasn't feeling that great, but I was able to make it up the first climb (Colima) struggling only slightly. It wasn't until I started up the back side of Turnbull, that I realized just how badly I was feeling. After getting only a 1/3 of the way up Turnbull, a rider from the Banning Bikes group, which I passed earlier, while they were regrouping after Colima, went by me like I was standing still.
Now I realize I'm not the strongest rider around (far from it, noting I am 61 and anemic), and it may have been only a minute or two before they resumed their ride, but still it was demoralizing. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone else behind him, so I tried picking up the pace [a little] in the hope I could at least stay ahead of everyone else, before getting to the top. I did manage to get to the top before anyone else caught me, but my time was really disappointing, and I think I paid for that little bit of extra effort on the way home.
The last 8 miles, which should have taken only about 25 minutes at most, took almost 32 minutes. I was didn't have much left. Fortunately I can rest the remainder of the day, and hopefully after a little while, I might even feel like walking over to the park, and watch the remainder of the cyclocross races, if it's not too late already.
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