In my
professional life I connect the dots to ensure a desired outcome. That sometimes means reviewing and monitoring
the plans of others as well as now and then developing those plans myself. My
pending trip has been the subject of quite a bit of planning on my part not to
mention the countless hours of coordination between Horst and McWoodie. I guess I did just mention that. Thanks guys.
When I built my
training plan in January I figured I needed about 4,000 kilometers of riding to
be in shape. I’ll hit that this weekend.
In my planning I tried to allow some contingency for an illness or injury
setback and sure enough, it happened.
Blocking out the
week and a half for the trip isn’t the tough part. Riding three, four, five or even six hours on
one or both weekend days is the challenge.
Hottie has been super supportive and I’ve been able to get in those long
rides that make the difference between failure and fun.
My yard has gone
from looking neglected to looking abandoned. I am delinquent on countless tasks
around the house. Hottie has shown
miraculous patience with my folly. Thank you.
I’ve been
promising myself I would focus on strengthening my core for years and I’ve
actually done it this time. Whoa yeah.
My body is
showing wear and tear from the workout load and I realize this level of
training is not sustainable at my age. Ice and an assortment of drugs have established
a meaningful place in my life at least for the next few weeks. I’m living on
borrowed time and I know it.
I have looked at
all of my gear with a critical eye and ranked everything from gloves to socks
and only the varsity gets to travel. I’m
carrying on most of my stuff this time so I’m pretty sure it will make it.
My food portions
have been smaller than usual and the bathroom scale is telling me I am ready to
climb. The climbing forecast for this trip is staggering. Over eighty thousand feet of climbing in only
seven days of riding. As I think about it, I am probably in the best climbing
shape of my life right now. What a
pleasant thought. Just wait until the
mountains of Italy bitch-slap me back to reality. I know the slap is coming.
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