I'm fresh off the Roasters Ride. Marin's infamous battle ground where riders gather every weekend sporting their convolutedly colorful team spandex whilst burgeoneing with the lateset and greatest hecho in china plastic pride. An ungainly organized mass, we meander awkwardly down the asphalt while glares of death and impatient honk missiles are viciously spewed from the throat of the traffic monsters. We head out of town, away from the gas demons, gaining inertia in anticipation of the slaughter fest to come. Egos begin dancing like little fairy's, giddy and impatient. They hide their determined eyes in the depths of dark sunglasses and prepare to throw testosterone bombs in each others face. An act of eliminating a week of pooling hormones and pent up stress. Each rider, fully embraced in the moment of an epic duel to either blow ones self to pieces or destroy the fragile bonds of tenacious pride that cause each and every rider to endure cataclysmic suffering. It is a rabid, brutal, and savage ride. Unlike a race, we don't use strategy, we don't help each other. The goal or at least mine is to slay egos, bury them, suffer like this its my last moment. Its not a stage race, I don't have to finish. Just suffer so that next time I'm racing I have something to relate to and the hurt-box becomes a welcome comfort.
I haven't raced since the Gila....I even took 7 consecutive days off...and by that I mean on the couch off. I felt fat and lost. Penny less in ambition and pocketbook. Then two weeks of base training....a 12 min time trial, 30 min of tempo....more zone 2.....Boring...I needed to get out and cause pain, at least to myself. Warning! TANGENT approaching. In the simple polar terms of comfort and discomfort, I don't think its a good idea to forget how to suffer. Comfort to me is boring, and boredom leaves me in an unoccupied, directionless existence perpetually seeking more comfort...Guess what? Look around you...America is comfortable. America is boring, expressionless, lazy, and lifeless. Comfort belongs in a pair bib shorts...It belongs to Assos. If your able to be active, take advantage of it, embrace it, suffer on your own level, have fun, push the boundaries of your comfort. You might be amazed at what lies beyond. There are people in this world that don't get a chance to live comfortably. Human beings that live in a hole in the ground and get shit on by the rest of the world. Do them a favor and Don't invest in the numbing comfort of America...get out and experience the vibrance of the world you live in.
OK, back to today's ride.......i promise no more tangents.
I got my chance to be uncomfortable this morning and push my comfort zone. I unleashed a seismic explosion on the poor age groupers and cat 2/3/4/5 riders. I let them have it. Every time I attacked they just let me go... I pulled the entire group into the sprint at Nicasio and then turned the screws until they gave up. I left them to ponder the forces of continental drift while I took the sprint in Point Reyes, and the KOM at Olema. Finally I rode away into a false flat, towing one brave rider pegged at his limit. The likes of 20 riders couldn't catch me with 10k to go. Solo in your face...maybe next time...except I'm getting board and its time for the second half of the season. I'm going racing. I've outgrown this pond.
Still sitting here in my new pair of Assos bibs. Good thing they are intended for all day comfort....the only bibs I would ever spend my money on. The only company that doesn't build their shorts around materialistic image based marketing....They build marketing around the shorts....the shorts sell themselves as the most comfortable, most durable, best functioning shorts period.
Alright, I'm still sitting in my bib shorts, I've finished eating my huge bowl of hippie mix, granola and yogurt with lots of nuts and juicy ripe cantaloupe, and a splash of flax oil. Thank you Assos for you all day comfort. Thank you all for reading...If this post sounded at all egotistical, trust me, I know my place. I can feel the pain of everyone on this mornings ride....its the same feeling I have when I finish mid pack at an NRC stage race, or when Chris Horner goes casualy wizzing buy me as I'm drueling all over my top tube just trying to survive. Its all relative. Also check for my next post as It could be worth a laugh at my expense.