It seems to me that doing something cool and doing something stupid are closely related.
I drove down the London, KY, last night to do the Redbud Ride. This is after not being able to walk for the past week because of plantar fascism.
On Wednesday I saw my physical therapist who twisted some stuff, told me to HTFU, and asked me to move my cleats forward 7 mm. To the dismay of my wife, he cleared me to ride today if I used a "little common sense". Ha!
I intended to do the 38 miler. About 15 miles into the ride I felt fine, it was a lovely day, and there were all sorts of hot cycling chicks on the roads, so I elected to push it a bit and try the half century.
The ride had some of the worst hills I've ever walked up, and after gasping for air and suffering some pretty nasty calf cramps, I began to lose contact with the outside world. My cellphone had no reception because we were in the deep boonies, and without google maps I was just kind of guessing which way to go.
As I entered mile 55 and realized that I was heading away from, not towards London, I developed this sense of loathing and fear that I had indeed gotten myself stuck on "the Green Monster", a 70 miler with the reputation of giving people like me coronaries.
Which is exactly what had happened. Not the coronary, thank Gaia, but I redlined at my max HR and thought it was a distinct possibility.
As I rode my bike from the Holiday Inn Express (staying there did not improve my directional skills), I ended up with about 74 miles of riding (my second longest ever), 4000 feet of climbing/walking (I think my most), and a Strava Suffer Score of 261, which is EPIC.
That was pretty cool. It was also pretty stupid, which makes it all the cooler, for some reason.
Some iPhone photos:
Cool looking creek. I don't know its name:
This lovely ladies were lining up to introduce themselves to me, because bent riders get all the babes.
I heard banjos:
The only reason I stopped on this hill was so I could take this picture of the grade marking:
This was the nicest tree I saw all day. My wife tells me it is not a redbud. There were no redbuds in bloom this weekend.
The second top of Tussey Hill (it has three peaks. It is contemptible). Some d-bag photographed me pushing my bent up this thing. I went medieval on him.
Then I drove home, 2 1/4 hours away. I guess that's it.