The Dead Of Winter

I'll confess, I have no idea what the above figure of speech refers to, but today's ride and accompanying weather seem to fit the dreary phase rather well. High of 56. Started the ride late to try to stay at or near that 56 zone as much as possible. Layered up, etc etc. Felt colder than 56. Then the winds kicked in. Gah. Particularly bad were those little descents on Malibu Canyon (northbound)...the ones with a steep cliff and low fence in place of a shoulder. That+Unpredictable Wind+Ksyrium+Cars=@!#$#%@.

There was a bright spot, however. A story. Part jerk-move, part catharsis. I should preface this by saying that throughout the base period, plenty of guys passed me up. Some politely, some quietly, and that's cool, that's cool. I'm goin 17~19 mph, so it's bound to happen...but some guys attack me with great aggression; as if taking me to the imaginary finish line is a gamble they CANNOT afford. Why can't we just ride together for a bit? Geez, guy. The story begins while riding down PCH. Had some good tunes on the ipod (Weezer's Pinkerton album...one of only 2 solid -W- albums...Blue being the other). So i'm grooving along when a guy blasts by the left side. Hmmmmmmm...I should hang back and let him revel in his latest conquest, but base was JUST over yesterday. Allright, why not? I calmly closed the gap and sat in his draft for a bit as his speed gradually decreased from the recent blast. He looked back. I smiled, stayed in his draft. Me and pinkerton. After a few minutes I pulled through. Very gently at first, and slowly turned the screws. A really good track came on ("Getchoo"), and the screw turning rate ramped up sharply, and that's pretty much where this story ends. Didn't see the guy again. That was my hardest effort of the new year and it felt swell. Both the effort and the act of passing one of these guys for once...Swell.

Two entries in one day? Serious?

Oh...and results for the MLK crit I missed are already in. As expected...none of the 'core guys showed save the Mezas (who are routinely waxed at the bowl by unshaven guys on creaky Cannondales), so i'm a bit relieved. Tip of the hat, though, to the brave nutcases who raced this thing...

And I'm posting this again...because i'm so proud.


He even let me borrow a cable (the one I had was too short). He's high in the running for MVP, worldwide. Sadly, no white russians could be had at the afterparty...but the dude abides...and settled on a glass of wine instead.