This evening I went on a solo ride to the lake and back. It was a rare windless day, and I was pushing it pretty hard. I made it to the end of the lake in personal best time, did the Deerfield climb, and then turned back, intending to soft pedal back home.
And then I got passed. By a girl.
I’m not sexist (after all, I live with 3 women and half my team at work is women), but let’s be honest — it always adds a little extra sting when a guy gets beat by a girl at sports. Likewise, I’m sure it’s extra satisfying to the woman. Anyway, this wasn’t just any girl — it was a hard core racer (Cat 2, I think ) that I’ve met before.
I may be just a tad competitive, so before I knew it I was chasing. The great thing about competition is that it makes you forget that about the jabbed-with-a-red-hot-icepick feeling in your legs. We were pacing at 24 mph most of the way back. I’m pretty sure she could have dropped me like a bad habit if she had wanted to, but she was just doing a few intervals before a race tomorrow. We said hi and went our seperate ways.
Long story short, I turned in my best time ever for this route. And my legs are feeling it.