Bit Off a Bit Much

Route 579 at Route 523 Near Flemington,  NJ

21 April 2018

A handful of factors came together today that resulted in a herd of beat-up Slugs:

I've been doing more leg work at the gym this winter. My weight has been creeping up, which may or may not be related to the leg work and may or may not be related to my age. I didn't ride at all last weekend. The last time I was in the hills was at the end of March. I wanted to leave from somewhere other than Pennington so I chose Hopewell. I didn't have time to come up with a new route so I picked one from last year. I wanted a tough ride and extra miles.

Ricky, who, as far as any of us can tell, has never been tired on a bike, joined me and a somewhat trepidatious Jim, for an extra ten miles to Hopewell. Andrew rode in from home too. 

I feigned shock when I saw Pete had driven in. "I have no faith in the universe anymore,"I told him.

He said he wasn't up to long distance yet, and he wasn't yet into the complete exhaustion and inability to do anything else for the rest of the day that a long, hilly bike ride brings.

None of us had seen Bob N in ages. Jack H and Tom were there too. I almost asked Tom to bless us with his Holy Kickstand but I didn't.

While the guys got ready I took a picture of something stuck in a tree on the opposite end of the lot. I figured I'd be able to get a better look after uploading it at home (a flag maybe?).

We didn't have much of a warm-up before we hit the first little hills out of Hopewell.

At the bottom of Rileyville I complained that nobody was giving me any grief over my blindingly obnoxious polka-dot leggings.

For the rest of the ride they tried. In all honesty, though, they were pretty lame. 

The trouble started when we got closer to Flemington. Tom said his legs weren't cooperating. He was having a bad day. I've broken Tom before but never so early in the season. He'll get me back later, I'm sure.

The bastard hill where Route 579 climbs up from Route 523 west of Flemington finished him off. It didn't do wonders for the rest of us either. Tom stayed with us until we were almost in Frenchtown, then turned south on 519 when we turned north.

"That was almost like work," Jack said as we dismounted in Frenchtown. The Bridge Cafe was teeming with pooches when we got there.

I took a few quick pictures of the river from the deck of the cafe.

We lingered on the patio. The weather was perfect for a nap. Andrew eyed the benches across the street.

We took Horseshoe Bend to get up to the ridge again. After that we rolled up and down 519 almost to Rosemont. We passed the Sergeantsville General Store but nobody needed to stop again.

When I was getting close to 60 miles my back started to hurt. That's about when it usually happens on a hilly ride. My legs get tired, my hamstrings get tight, my posture fails a little, and I use every stop to arch my back while we wait to regroup or for a light.

Bob rode up to me on Stony Brook and said, "Some of you have ten more miles after this."

"Shut up," I sang.  "Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!"

As we approached Hopewell Elementary, Jim said, "You know that hill on the way out?"

"Yeah."

"We can not do that again."

"It builds character."

"You know that other hill on the way back?"

"Horseshoe Bend?"

"Yeah. We can not do that again either."

"Builds character," I said.

Of all of us only Ricky didn't complain about being tired.

"Hey," I said, when we were finally back at my house. "Notice I didn't stop for pictures and make you guys wait for me?"

Ricky said, "I noticed."

So I took a picture of my neighbor's fire hydrant.

The three of us had 74 miles and about 4000 feet of elevation gain.

About those stats, Jim said, "It's a little early."

"Yeah, but the temperature is perfect, the air is clear, and there isn't much wind. Imagine if it were 20 degrees warmer. That would suck."

Head to toe, everything hurt as I wheeled Miss Piggy into the house.

I unloaded the layers I'd peeled off during the ride, took off my vest, and left everything on the bed so that I could go downstairs and stuff my face.

When I came back up, Moxie was sacked out on my clothing. He looked the way the Hill Slugs felt, only more comfortable.

Later in the day, Mojo took over clothes-sitting duties.

I went into the next room to try some stretching, and then down to dinner, where I tried my best not to eat all the things. Fearful of what the scale would say in the morning, I'm going to bed hungry.

Maybe I'll do a recovery ride in the morning, or maybe go to the gym and lift instead. It will all depend on whether or not I say "Oof!" when getting out of bed.