OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Here's my definitive decision on the race this Sunday, based completely on my ride last night: NO TO THE HELL TO THE NO.
It's sad, really, how hard this can be sometimes. I work out more than most people I know and I ride pretty consistently and still, STILL! It's so hard. Not always, but last night for sure. It was a perfect evening - warm and sunny but not too hot or humid. I took Tuesday off so my legs were freshy-fresh and still, it was so insanely hard. We met up with some friends do to the long race course (for the Urban Assault race which is next Saturday. I'm still considering that one.) and I thought, perfect! I ride these trails all the time and I'm rested and good to go. We started out and I thought I was going to DIE. My legs felt weak and sluggish, I was gasping (gasping!) for air and I felt all give-upish. Never good.
One of the women who was riding with us usually races in my category, so when we hit Forest Hill I decided to make a valiant effort to keep up with her. I did, too. I dug a little deeper and started feeling a bit stronger and I stayed with her for the entire thing. However, when we finished that section and stopped to rest, my legs felt all shaky and noodley. Shit, this was bad because we had quite a bit more trail to cover. Noodley legs = doing something wrong.
I finished but I felt very bonky near the end and dropped pretty far back. Kenny, bless his sweet heart (I married him for a reason!) came back to scoop me up and I did make it home. I felt like complete ass, though. Why is this? What am I doing wrong? I'm going to ride again tonight to find out because I love the pain, apparently. I am a glutton for punishment.
Funniest EVER thing that happened last night:
We were (IN A VAN) down by the river waiting for our ride buddies and ran into another friend of ours. While we chatted with him, two incredibly ripe be-mohawked squatter guys wandered our way, one of them toting a forty. We ignored them and continued our polite conversation while behind us, the two guys decided to try to hop the incredibly high chain link fence that separates the train tracks from the fire road where we were standing. One of them tried, failed. Tried, failed, tried, hurt his hand and gave up. All of this is happening while we're still chatting and pretending that delinquents weren't trying to hop the fence behind us.
Finally, the guy with the squirrely mohawk walks up to us and very politely inquires as to whether there's a hole in the fence anywhere because he'd never seen a real train caboose before and just had to go check it out. He then was very careful to make clear to us that he wasn't, absolutely no sir, WASN'T going to hop the train or anything. I actually laughed at that point and told him we weren't the train police and wouldn't tell on him. He looked so worried! We told him where the fence gap was and he went on his merry stinking way.
Kids today, I swear.