A miracle happened today. I left work to pick up Lyza, and the simple version of the story is that she ended up going home with a friend and I got a call to "pick her up in a couple of hours". You have GOT to be kidding me....My work clothes were on the floor, who knows where the wallet ended up, the cell phone could have fallen in the toilet, I wouldn't have cared. The road warrior clothes were on in 9 minutes and I went on a fantastic road ride up towards the local ski resort. I took it super easy, and just savored the time, the warm sun, and the feeling of getting back on the road so early in the year. There was a point on the ride, when all I could hear was my breathing, and the sound of the rubber on the road - everything else was completely still - no cars, nothing.
So I flip around and am still just crusing home - staying in my target range of 135bpm to 150bpm. The point at this time of the year is SLOW rides to build an endurance base. This 20 mile ride was falling into form until....this old codger
He passed me on the flats just getting back into town. I'm 39, I have a family, I am not competing today, and that is exactly what went through my mind when he went by with a shit-eating smirk. Whatever - I was riding my pace and I was happy as could be until.....
He made a left onto the same road that goes back to my house - a 12% gradient for about 250 yards. I was about 100 yards behind him, and I saw him struggling out of the corner off my eye and I honed in on him like an F-16 targeting device. When I blew past him I didn't say a word, and I brushed his shoulder for good measure. SO I'm still a Type-A when it comes to competition. Screw that little sweet quiet ride, there was fresh meat on the road to catch and kill! Who did I get this from? Dad? Mom? Steve? Dana? Lyza?
Signed,
Jerk Bosselmann
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