Yesterday FR and I caught up on our ride-a-week campaign to prepare for the Muerto - we're a dedicated twosome we are - and headed out to travel-by-pedal the beginning and end of the July Sunflower Festival ZoatKnacker race. The plan was to ride just over 50 miles. We were positive that we could do this in the time allotted. We were optimistic. We felt good.
We got close. On the way out down the beetloader road heading for Schanzenfeld, the wind was a minimally antagonistic North by Nor'Wester. We could hold our pace at 28+ k/h. We felt fine. We rockstarred it through the Blumengart Colony, waving at the kerchiefed beauties and enjoying the smells and the pavement. The epicest village ever, Schanzenfeld, slipped by and we were feeling pretty good.
At some point along that way I prophesied (oh why oh why do I prophesy) that the wind we thought was somewhat agin us, might actually have shifted to be somewhat with us, which would mean ... that's right, a double-into-the-wind'er. And so it goes out on the prairie gravel.
Two miles past Schanzenfeld we turned South to drift with the wind past the green gates of the Chortitz (that's Kor-Teeetz) Cemetery. After a mere three miles of with-wind-goodness we turned back East and, of course, the wind was now obviously a North by Nor'Easter. Crap.
And then there was the newly covered gravel roads, and some soft clay ones, and before we knew it we were pretty damn tired. Just thinking about going into the wind both ways makes me tired. Add soft new gravel and I'm exhausted. But we soldiered on to the 306, where we abandoned the gravel and embraced the pavement. We're weak, we know. But there are miles to go before we sleep.
Still, we managed to do 50 miles, and remind ourselves that optimism is good for starting, but unlikely when finishing.
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