You’re going 35 miles per hour, cuz!!
My immediate reaction changes from consternation to a smile. Thanks man! Preciate it….
Little did my bandanna adorned admirer know, but I had kicked the digits to the curb almost a week ago. I went to swim in the lake on Monday. Dee Dee came long to make sure I didn’t drown or sumfin. Without thinking, I grabbed the wet suit hanging in the closet, soaked it in the tub for several hours, only to arrive at the lake and realize that it was Dee Dee’s. You’ll be happy to know that I can fit into an Athena Blue Seventy wet suit just fine, thankyouverymuch. I pulled it up as high as I could get it to go, and surprisingly, I had plenty of freedom in the arms. Thirty minutes later, and my last open water swim of the season was over. There’s something spooky, yet fascinating, about having the entire lake to one’s self.
Tuesday, I abandoned my scheduled run in favor of reffing a soccer match. I opted to be the first assistant referee. Running up and down the sidelines controlling the substitutions was the perfect workout for me. It’s hard work. Not quite as hard as riding on the trainer for an hour Wednesday, but sometimes, ya just gotta suck it up. Reality was my key workouts were Thursday, Friday, and Sunday. Everything else just really didn’t matter. You can’t affect your race much during taper, but you sure can hurt it!
I walked out the door Thursday for my hour and half run with nothing but my clothes and watch. I haven’t even been recording my workouts in Sports Tracks. I have truly set myself free from the deets. It was a good run too. I came in about three to four minutes faster than my best run over the same route that I can remember. I’ll take it, true or not.
Swimming has had me kind of worried. I hit the 4000 yard mark a long time ago, but lately, I haven’t been swimming all that much. Friday was the final test of my swimming endurance. I did 4000 yards in an hour fifteen, including rest breaks, and I felt great when I was done. In this area, I am more than ready.
This weekend was my final days of reffing soccer for the season. I was at the fields at 8:30 AM on Saturday, and I didn’t leave until 7 PM, and it.was.cold. I froze for the first and last game. The middle games were pretty nice. I thought I might sneak in a swim during my 2.5 hour break, but after the great swim on Friday, I decided it wasn’t necessary. The cold weather had me worried about my four hour ride on Sunday, but I was determined to get my ride in outside.
Getting up early in the morning is really old now. I’m hanging in there. Two more weeks. It’s not that I WANT to get up early in the morning. I just am. It was supposed to be fifty degrees by 11 AM, and that’s when I decided to hit the road on my bike. Over night, it changed to 47 degrees. At the last minute, I decided to head up to Cartersville and do the 68 mile route. I haven’t been having much luck there, but it has to turn around sometime right?
I arrived at the Bud Plant a little late, but I was in no hurry. I brought my ref stuff with me, just in case I needed to head directly to my game at 5 PM. I went ahead and added arm warmers to my long sleeve technical shirt with the understanding I could take them off when I was ready. I never did. I selected the 68 mile course on the Garmin and took off. Within the first mile, the Garmin beeped and told me that it had a low battery. That was when I realized that I had left my Forerunner 50 at home too. I had no watches for my match. I wasn’t worried about the Garmin dying. The route was well marked.
About ten miles down the road, I realized that I had forgotten my phone. This just keeps getting better, I thought. At this time of the year, fellow riders were few and far between. If I broke down, I would have to knock on somebody’s door for help. I put my trust in my bike and my gear, and I kept riding. It was cold at first, but after the first hour or two, it was really nice out. The cold air was crystal clear. I could see the mountains off in the distance along much of the route. It reminded me how much I love this.
The weirdos were out. One good ole boy in his pick up truck felt the need to blow his horn at me coming from the opposite direction. Then there was the guy in the old ford that refused to pass me. It was just me and him on an old country road. He must have followed me for four or five minutes before deciding to pass. I was beginning to get a little shy.
About fifteen miles from home, this green SUV pulls up besides me, passes, then slows down to my speed. Great, I think. Here we go again. That was when the back window rolls down, and Bret Michaels sticks his head out and yells, You’re going 35 mph, cuz! Ahhhh, the joys of riding in the country.
I make it back to the car in one piece with plenty of gas left in the tank. I had an hour and fifteen minutes till I needed to be at my game. I decided to go home, eat, and grab my watches. I hurriedly threw everything in the SUV and took off. Dee Dee called me to remind me to strap the bike down. Still, as I was leaving the parking lot, I asked myself what was I forgetting. When I got home, I realized I had left the keys to MY car lying on the ground. Boy, was I really mad at myself at this point. If the kitchen had ears….
The girl’s U-15 match at 5 PM was the high light of my weekend. I called two hand balls and two fouls during the entire game, and I had the best seat in the house. After the match, I drove in the darkness back up to Cartersville and reclaimed my keys. They were right where I left them.
Hopefully, this spate of Wes-isms is over. I don’t need to add that to the anxiety caused by this taper. All the plans are in place and organized. All the lists are printed and ready. Everything should go smooth as silk, provided I can hold myself at bay…