The Bad Patch

came to visit me on Saturday.

A likely place- Diablo in the afternoon, trying to squeeze in one more time up before heading home.

I've been doing dumb endurance sports long enough to have the bad patch be a old acquaintance, it slowly creeps in , hidden by pride, ego, and adrenaline until it's too late to do anything but hang on and curse.

The little yellow pod on the handlebars warned me first- the HR was high and the power was mediocre.

Then the sun got just sooooo intense that the helmet had to go over the stem.

A stop in the shade came next, along with the mental grumblings and speculation on what normal middle aged men where doing right now.

Hating the wind and sun- a clear sign things are going south.

A push for the top, to be greeted by twinges in the legs and the realization-

"I'm officially in the bad patch"
" Maybe not screwed, but definitely this shit is gonna hurt"

Once the realization came, though, things were oddly better, even though I couldn't stand that warm Perpetuem any longer, and I like Perpetuem.

Cause survival mode is what I do.

It allows me to stop under trees wherever I like .

It let's me stop at the Extra Mile and buy icy cold Fruit Punch Gatorade and drink two bottles while spinning a 39 x 17 home .

It lets me smile when the cramps go from the toes to the tummy when I get up too fast or pedal too hard, " you dumbass..."

I knew the bad patch would end.

That's the gift of the patch, when one realizes as bad as this feels it will be over soon....

If you're never in the bad patch, you'll never appreciate the great days.

Oh, and today I felt great, rode the cross bike for the first time in 6 months.