Bonk. Hitting the wall. Cracking. Imploding. Blowing up.
Cyclists have funny terms for things that happen while riding a bike - the funniest of which usually refer to bad things. This morning i took extra care to brush up on my cycling lingo as i prepared to flog myself up Angeles Crest Highway.
After eating a sparse breakfast consisting of a small piece of buttered toast and a cup of coffee i said to myself, "Today is the day i'll put my superior cycling-jive skills to the test," I then headed out the door to do 32 minutes of criss-cross intervals.
What could possibly go wrong? Hah!
By the 25 minute mark i knew it was all over except for the shouting. My legs felt like they were on fire (ok...), a steady 'dangler' of drool swung to and fro from my lower lip (not so good...), the prolonged 'pain face' had begun to tire my jaw muscles (uh oh...), and my sense of balance was declining rapidly (oh shit!).
I had officially hit the wall.
After promptly pulling into the nearest shady turnout on the road, i sat in the wake of my explosion contemplating after how many minutes into my session had my breakfast been burned up in its entirety - and, in turn, brain cells had begun to take the place of ever-essential glycogen.
After a few moments of deep though, i arose like a half-drunk college student on a "dollar beer" thursday night, mounted my steed and cautiously rolled down the hill towards my discretely stashed backpack containing all kinds of tasty treats.
Lesson learned, i guess.
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2 comments:
I've never seen a HALF-drunk college student on dollar beer night.
100% drunk. Shit faced. Off their tits drunk... These I have seen.
I have to agree with Lyle on this one. By the time you realize you are half drunk, you've already consumed two more drinks...the requisite amount to put you over the edge. Lesson relearned two nights ago....stupid French wine.
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