hmmm....
I am reading a cycling magazine right now. The last page just says, "mania" across the top. Mike Suchionbury, a writer for bicycling magaine, writes this: "I'm lying in a shower, letting water splatter against my quivering body. I have to get up soon, and drink. I lost 13 pounds on this ride - water, electrolytes, metabolic tinder and fuel. Things that must be replaced. I knew I was in trouble two hours into what's usually my stock five hour ride. About halfway up an 8-mile climb my heart jackhammered and my breathing outstripped my cadence. I should have turned around then, called it a day, done the smart thing, taken it easy. But I kept chewing road. I kept on even after my jersey, shorts, and gloves turned white with salt. I kept on ticking off miles BECAUSE my jersey, shorts, and gloves turned white. Coaches and physiologists and training books all say that what I did was wrong. And maybe the're right. But I lost 13 pounds on this ride - And not all of it was sweat. Some was weakness." You're damn right, Mike, damn right. Sometimes the best rides hurt. That's why they're the best rides. Sometimes after a long one I fall over when I get out of bed. But you know what? It's what I do. It's what keeps me from turning around and breaking the nose of the girl who whispers about cute guys she fucked last weekend during math class. It keeps me sane, fit, and happy. On the road, all you care about is cadence, heart beat, speed, and staying on the pavement. Power comes from all the things and people that pissed me off last week. My greatest rides are the ones where I'm tired before I'm halfway done. Then you know what I do? I attack. Spring is coming....don't even ask where I am going to be every chance I get.