Racing hurts. Racing ‘cross in May hurts really bad. I have been busting my ass since January, and it still hurts…and I actually still suck. It’s all good. This is going to click for me…eventually.
I raced. I suffered. I heckled. This is my life. This is what makes me tick. This is what it’s all about, kids. The most beautiful thing in the world, and we had it in May. Is it September yet?
With shredded legs, I took on the task of riding with two stupid fit guys today. We rode from West Asheville, climbed some stuff that sucked out my soul, and turned around in Marshall. Even though they weren’t smashing and kept a conversation pace, I barely made the cut. I suffered. My legs cramped, cussed, and cried. My lungs burned, and my head was full of snot. I couldn’t get enough oxygen, and I even thought about calling someone to come get me.
But how would I live that down?
So I pedaled…and eventually popped. Luckily, we only had 10 miles left at this point.
I was really happy to see West Asheville, drink a Dr. Enuf, and eat pizza.
Another perfect weekend, and the last time I have to say goodbye to those beautiful Western North Carolina Mountains.