Today was yoga in the AM followed by a late-morning run up to the track. Easy running, just out to enjoy the day, with plans to shed the shoes for a few laps. The sun had already warmed the track surface considerably and in retrospect I feel stupid for not thinking of this. I only made it twice around before blisters forced me onto the grass for a third lap. This made the jog home quite unpleasant. Last Sunday I did a mile BF without much discomfort so the temperature factor is apparently quite large. Somewhere around 6 miles in 53 or so minutes, including stops.
Around 4:15 I headed out to repeat last week's westward adventure. This time I was solo, had a few more pounds of luggage, and it was about 15 degrees warmer. Thought I might cover the 40 or so miles in 3 hours. Kelly Dr was markedly frustrating and I think I've decided that it's not a place I should be riding. I was content to draft a guy on his mountain bike until he started spitting into the wind numerous times, spraying me with saliva. Not sure if he knew it or not, but it was enough to make me surge around him and another in front of him, only to be forced to slow because of children playing on the path. Children playing on paths are wonderful, they should continue to play in the middle of paths, and the solution for today's dilemma is that in order to avoid saliva and playing children, I'll take a different route out of the city.
It seems like it often happens when I'm on my way out of town on a bike that because I know what lies beyond is green and beautiful, I get wound up like a rubber band and explode once I finally break free. So it went today as I launched over the Schuylkill on the beginnings of a route known to a few local runners as the Bloody Nipple, for reasons undisclosed. Actually, I've never heard the story behind it, but I'm sure it has everything to do with what the name implies. Instead of turning left on Conshohocken Ave I kept going straight, uphill towards City Line, where I was once again reminded of the effects of sun-baked asphalt.
I really kind of killed it on these first hills and not much longer than 10 or so miles in I was already getting hungry. Conveniently I came across a portable restroom so I obliged, ate a banana, and topped off my water bottle from my reserve supply. Two carbon-shod riders in full get up whiz by me now and I see if I can't catch them. I don't but they don't gap me by much and we go separate ways when it comes to the creek crossing on Old Gulph Rd. A couple of minutes later I was still hungry, and this lasted more or less for the rest of the ride, even though I continued to nibble here and there on some other stuff.
My favorite part of the ride comes between Sawmill and Whitehorse Rds, there are some hills here that make Belmont Ave seem insignificant, but the scenery is superb, lots of wildlife including more woodchucks than I've ever seen before in a single day, and some welcome shade from the trees. By now I've lost a lot of umph in my legs and I let my granny gear flag fly with no shame. On the ups I just sit back and spin. On the downs I'm able to pick up some speed, up to 35 mph or so.
A telltale sign that I'm tired is when I get irritable, and I notice that I'm cursing cars as they zip past along Paoli Pike headed into West Chester. I figure my last chance to really let loose is fast approaching so I crank it on a downhill out of town and reach up to 38 mph. That's damn fast for not being in a car, and quite frankly kind of frightening. I put a lot of trust in those bolts and bearings...
The best part of the ride comes when I'm crawling up a hill 4 miles out from my destination along a refreshingly shady back road and it's really taking all of my concentration just to push grannies, all of the sudden there's about 6 or 7 deer looking right at me from about 10 yards off. Not much longer and I'm parking my bike, looking forward to a cool bath and subsequent soaking in a hot tub. Great ride. About 3:05 door to door, 2:50 riding time.
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