They say you always remember your first time, that it will stay with you your entire life. The rush and excitement, followed by the lack of energy, low and lack of self respect.
I think it happened to me yesterday, although I’m not quite sure. Being a virgin at these experiences, I’m still sitting here wondering whether I did have my first time or whether it was something else and I’ve got it all wrong.
The day started off pleasantly enough and I decided to go for a hard session to get the lungs going and get the legs pumping. Maybe, I should clarify myself a bit more at this point and explain that I’m talking about cycling and the dreaded bonk.
Over the winter, I’ve taken things relatively easy and haven’t done any hard distance sessions on the road for quite some time. Towards the end of 2010, I had a few outings with my club on the weekly chain gang and felt quite good.
For anyone who doesn’t know what a chain gang is, it’s effectively a ride at race pace where the aim if for a string of riders to maintain a fast pace, taking turns on the front to maintain a rhythm and share the workload of riding into the wind.
Now the spell of bad weather has calmed down and temperatures have risen to the point that my penis no longer looks like a shrivelled prune at the end of a ride, the evening chain gang has started up again and my excuses for missing the last few are starting to wear thin. I need to get involved again.
My first step started yesterday with a solo attempt on the chain gang route in an effort to familiarise myself with the roads again and give it my all in an endeavour to ruin myself. The point being that if I can go all out and finish on my own, it will be a breeze with 6-7 other people riding with me.
Needless to say, I achieved what I set out to do. I ruined myself.
It all started ok and I maintained a 20mph+ average for the first 16.5 miles from home but then when I hit the turn and faced back into the wind, the wheels began to fall off my wagon. My speed went down and when I hit the climb at Earlswood, I was a spent force. I just had nothing more to give and ended up getting home after 33 miles with an average speed of 16.5mph.
Was it the bonk or just early poor season fitness? I don’t know. I think the safest bet is to assume it was the bonk and use it as an excuse to eat more Jaffa Cakes.
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