Man, the dread was real yesterday. I was mentally gearing up for the workout, but honestly, my enthusiasm was dragging its feet until my rear end finally graced the bike saddle. With the weather teasing us with a slight warm-up, any hopes I had for a crisp ride on frozen single-track were dashed. And just to sprinkle a bit of salt on the wound, the skies opened up, sending down a drizzle as I pedaled my way through Helgate Canyon towards Clinton.
On the agenda were two torturous 30-minute time trials smack dab in heart rate zone 3. Now, I’m the first to admit I’m not exactly the poster child for endurance; a half-hour of pushing it usually has me questioning my life choices. But, would you believe it? Those minutes ticked by without me turning into a grumbling mess or my brain going on a strike against me.
The first round felt like a breeze, almost fun, and I was riding that high of success when I kicked off the second go. That’s when reality bit hard. Trying to ramp my heart rate back up felt like trying to start a fire in a downpour, and comfort was a distant memory all the way back home. Still, I made it back, oddly thankful for the ride. Maybe it was the Carbo Rocket working its magic, or just the sheer relief of finishing, but as I washed out my bottles, already reaching for the Recoverite, I found myself pumped to do it all over again today.
Boneshakerbike 
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