Brilliance in Retrospect

I went for a ride today. It was in the mid seventies. Why not? I slapped on some shorts, a jersey and my new socks that I love so much (though, honestly, the website said they were charcoal gray and they are black . . . I look like a grandpa).

I go outside and start loading up. Breeze, but not windy. The weather said winds would be 5 - 10 mph. I can handle that. So off I go. I get to the lake and look at the flag. It's blowing, but not too stiff. I can handle that. I turn my bike, point toward the south and start riding in earnest. Wind is tough, but not too tough.

I turn toward the west, no let up in the wind. Hmm. Crosswind. I turn to the North and have a brief respite. Of course I only go north for about 1/4 of a mile. Head back toward East. Crosswind again. Turn south and WHAM. The wind has picked up. Damn.

Obviously this route is a bad idea, I think. I do some calculating and figure that if I go over the river I'll mostly be heading Northwest. That's good. So I go. The ramp to get over to the flats was a bitch. The wind was blowing straight across and the higher up I got, the harder it was to pedal. I know my limits, so I backed off and just took it easy up the hill.

At least, I thought I knew my limits.

Going across the flood plains I didn't exactly have a tailwind, but it was close enough. It was maybe a 20 degree crosswind that gave me a little boost. Circle the ramp up to the bridge and as soon as I'm facing North again, WHAM, that wall of wind. It's okay, I think, the ride back will be Southeast. I'll be okay. Stopped off on the western side of the river, had a goo and went on my way.

The bridge was windy, but not TOO windy. But, as soon as I was off the bridge it was like stepping into a bubbling Hell broth. I realized that the wall on the bridge was shielding me from the full force of the wind.

It's four miles back to the lake from the river. Normally, that's not a bad ride and because it's the river flats I can usually cover it in well under 15 minutes. Today was another story. Slowly my gears kept getting lower and lower and lower and the wind kept getting higher and higher and higher. Those four miles felt like an eternity. I imagine this is a fraction of what a time trial feels like. I don't want to ride a time trial.

Now, here's the thing, I wasn't even trying to go fast. I wasn't fighting the wind. I was trying to conserve energy, but it was still kicking my ass.

I finally get to the last mile until I'm back out of the flats. I turn left to go up the hill and over an overpass. I figure the wind will let up. No, that damn crosswind again. I battled my way up that hill. And it's not that big a hill.

Luckily, my ride home was with a bit of the tailwind. But when I was done I was shaking. Only 21 miles. I didn't even ride hard the whole time and I was still really suffering. But the wind showed me who was boss. I was left wondering how the hell the pros race with winds like that. They do. And they still go faster than my top average speed. Bastards.

Now, sitting here, my legs are very angry at me. But what hurts most are my arms. I guess when I was gritting my teeth and trying to ride I got a little overzealous with my grip.

Verdict: I hate nature.