Our Thursday Central Georgia Cyclists club rides are anything but club rides in the Hammer-Head group. Yeah, our club members make up the majority of the riders, but the effort required to keep up with the fast group is anything but what you'd expect to be considered part of a club event. It's a sufferfest. And, I love it!
Last night was the first night since knee surgery that I was able to really push my legs into that glowing hot-poker zone of suffering I've craved for months. 5 weeks and 1 day after going under the knife I didn't really know what to expect from my fitness, but I needed to test my knee to see if all the easy riding I've been doing has helped the healing process. It didn't take long to find out my lungs just couldn't deliver enough oxygen to put out the fires that burned in every fiber of muscle and all I wanted to do was keep stoking the flames. Hello. My name is Shane, and I'm a cycle-holic. I got dropped a couple times early on and was able to fight my way back to the end of the group. At one point, through the blur of stinging sweat and narrowed vision I realized that I was wheel-sucking one of the women in our group and I could only laugh as body and ego skirmished to sort out the situation.
Ego: Get your ass back to the front and pull damn you!! You're starting to blend-in back here, so either get a purse to match your pansy-ass efforts or show them you've got a set!
Body: Screw this! There's cold beer in the truck, and it's DOWNHILL gettin' there!
Halfway through this lovely session of pain and agony the realization set in that there were two choices: 1) sit-up 2) dig deeper. I chose #2. The Wolf Pack, BK, Colin, Eddie, and the two Chips, waited on me several times but even then I felt that it was all I had in me to catch up to them. There was more than one surprised look when they saw a frothing-at-the-mouth, sweat bursting from every pore, oxygen starved rider that no longer resembled the cyclist they once knew come up to the back of the pack. Death was upon me for sure, squeezing my lungs, shoving hot needles into my calf and thigh muscles, telling me to just give up, just give in.......... the crossroads.
To say that camaraderie among those that share an experience can lift you up and give you strength to carry on might be cliche, but unless you feel it you'll never know or have the right to judge. I had nothing left in me, an empty shell, left wanting.... But, being back in "the pack" gave me energy to keep trying. The looks I saw told me that each knew I was going through my own personal hell, and it wasn't going to get any easier. This is what we do. What we live for. What we love so much.
The ride ended last night at just under 40 miles and I averaged around 20.8mph, but my HR average was close to 168. At 37, my anaerobic threshold is 184 with a max HR of 202, so I was in the red for a while last night. This morning, I'm quite surprised to find that my legs feel great with very little stiffness in my knee, but my lungs are a tad achy as expected.
Compared to the best I've done solo on this same route before my knee injury this past March, last night is nearly disgraceful. I wanted to see how far I'd come since training with the guys in Macon and managed 25.7 for 38.4 miles with no serious winds to push me either way earlier this year on a March morning. The winter training rides had pushed my ability way beyond what I thought capable since most of those rides were averaging 20+ at 60-100 miles with LOTS of climbing. Can't wait 'til November..............
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