Many of you will be aware that on my weekends, I am not averse to finding a good mountain to ride up. However, I am beginning to think this obsession might be going just a little too far. This morning I got up and did the usual thing (today I chose Binna Burra, a 780m climb). However, I found it wasn't enough. So I decided to descend into Canungra, grab a feed and hit Mt Tamborine (a 584m climb, with a couple of 14% sections). Both of these climbs start from virtually sea level, remembering that Canungra is at the bottom of a stupidly hot valley.
The scary part (well, one of the scary parts, for there were many) was that I actually survived. The final assault on Tamborine is pretty steep, and my thighs were SCREAMING, and I was thinking "it's either me or this bloody mountain!". (I was also thinking 'I'm damn glad it's not summer right now) However, the mountain chose that moment to die spectacularly, and I was left to stay out of the saddle for long enough to punch the air viciously.
I have two questions here: Have I lost it completely? and if not, Did I ever have it to begin with? As I sit here tired and sore but satisfied, these two questions really nag me.