Monday, March 22, 2010

Excuses are like assholes...

We cyclists are great at making excuses about our performances. We love do it way before there is ever even a problem. I remember back when I was racing mountain bikes a lot, before a race would start, you hear all over the place "Yeah, I'm not feelin' well." "I threw up this morning." "I was out all night partying." "I haven't ridden in a month." etc. This way, if that person did poorly in the race, you'd know why, but if they did well...well, you'd be impressed that they overcame their adversity, how ever phony it sounded.

Now, I realize some of those people were telling the truth, but it was easy to lump everyone together. I have prided myself in only saying anything like that if it were absolutely true. Hell, before any race, I never felt good. I felt like I was gonna throw up. That is all part of the nerves before a race and your body knowing what it was about to go through. That is why when I used an excuse yesterday, I felt like a dumbass.

Yesterday, I planned out a ride with the Prince and the Triathlete. We're finally seeing some Spring around here, and the trails are mostly dry and rideable here in Rapid City, and it was time to get out on the bikes. Long story short, the Prince and I rolled up M-Hill hoping to meet the Triathlete and his couple of riding partners.

The trail starts out fairly unmercifully, shooting up about 6 or 7 switchbacks. It is a fairly tough way to start out, but once to the top of those first switchbacks, it kinda levels out for a while. At least levels out enough to recover slightly and get your heart-rate and breathing under control before shooting back up more switchbacks to the top.

So, about on the 4th or 5th switchback, I was wonder what the hell was wrong with me. My legs hurt, which was fairly normal, but I was having acid reflux like a mother-fucker. But, I didn't want to stop, so we kept trudging along. I thought after we got to the level spot, I'd feel better and we'd make it up to the top.

Finally on the second set of switchbacks, I couldn't take it anymore and I had to stop. My entire chest felt like it was on fire. I stopped and told the Prince "I don't know what's wrong, but my gut is on fire. It must of been my lunch." I know he believed me, but I didn't believe me. But now the deed was done. My excuse had been thrown out of my mouth like a Jersey Boy throwing a Quarter Pounder with Cheese wrapper out the window of his IROC.

I have done so much work this year getting ready for the riding season, I couldn't believe I used an excuse, much less needed one, so early in the season even though it was true. I didn't want to use an excuse. But as I sit here and type this out, I am hacking up something that shouldn't be inside a person's body, much less their lungs. I think at some point I breathed in the acid boiling up my esophagus so I couldn't stop coughing after the ride, which is why I'm hacking shit up.

The nice thing is I have this blog to reaffirm my excuse, giving credibility to my excuse. The Prince and I are going to ride again this week. I just hope that the next time we ride together, I can just use my normal excuse; "I'm a pussy."

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