Life in the Fast Lane

While life in the fast lane cause the Eagles to lose their [collective?] mind, it simple caused me a little pain this morning. However, that pain is fleeting and my glory is great. Well, maybe not that great.

I decided, unconsciously, to do my own prologue time trial this morning. I guess that came after watching the very delayed recording of the Tour de France prologue while eating my breakfast.

Now, I know that I am not pro-level cyclist. I was once passed by Dave Zabriskie so quickly that by the time I looked up I didn't even know he'd passed, except that my fellow riders assured me that it was indeed my one brush with cycling greatness and I had missed it entirely. So, with that in mind, let me now tell just how impressive I was today.

I can usually maintain a scorching rate of about 30 km/h on a commute to work. I feel really good when I get 32 km/h. That means that I was actually keeping up in the school zones with the speed limit -- not that school is even in session right now. Anyway, that is my usual range for a ride.

Well, this morning I held 33.9 km/h for the ride, with a 34.7 average speed before my 1/4 km cool down. I was seriously excited! I know, it doesn't take much. Anyway, I started out the ride feeling pretty good, and thought I'd push from a little earlier than I usually do. Then, after topping my short climb, I turned down the 12% gradient at the west end of Winchester and kept pedaling. I nearly made the light at 700 West, but ran into a yellow turning red. After waiting through the light, I started a hard push up the small grade, noticed my heart rate skyrocketing up around 170 and thought I'd go for something on the ride. So, I kept pushing. Hard (for me). I pushed through the light around 6000 S. I caught the green light at 5400 S. I kept pushing through the green at Vine Street. I was moving.

I caught a red at 4700 S, but got quickly back up to speed just in time to have to stop at 4500 S. As I pulled away from that light, I got a gap on a garbage truck, but that truck caught up with me, so I tried to hang. I did pretty well until he turned on his blinker. I then dropped behind that truck, and passed him on the other side to keep from getting run over. I was still flying. It was shortly after that, on a couple-meter climb that I felt the pain. It wasn't pain from that climb. I can do that one easily. It was pain from my heart and legs asking, fervently, what I was doing to them, and why. My only answer was that I didn't know why. I was just doing it. So, I slowed a little bit and didn't complain when I caught the red light at 3900 S. After my heart rate dropped about 40 bpm at the light, I headed west and caught the tail end of the next. But from there, it was sweet speed down the slight grade, past the Jordan River, and through the turn toward the office. I was excited. I was stoked. I was flying.

I made that last corner, clicked off a lap time on my computer, then slowed way down to cool off before crawling up the stairs to the office.

Now, please understand that this is simply a little personal victory post. I don't claim any shot at greatness. I'd have to lose a good 10 kg and ride a lot more to become a truly competitive cyclist. And I know that the guy in the Hammer Gel jersey rode easily away from me at a light last night. But, for me it was a huge thing. It was a personal best time for my commutes, at least for the past couple of years.

Woohoo!