What a difference a day makes. Today's ride was awesome in every way a ride can be awesome.
I wasn't sure how I would feel this morning after yesterday's episode of punkness (I just made that word up). I was also suspicious of my back tire, since air doesn't typically just LEAK out of a tire and pumping it up shouldn't have been enough to "fix" the problem. It was a little low this morning, so I pumped it up again, but I didn't think I had enough time to get it changed, so I just took off on my bike with the tire in question.
I realize that is completely illogical.
Today's ride was one county over from where we live, so it wasn't QUITE as painful when they said they wanted us rolling by 7:10 AM. (That turned out to be a lie anyway. We did a lot of standing around, even after we were staged at the start line.) I would have expected the terrain to be similar to what I encounter on my rides around home, so I was prepared for some hills.
I was pleasantly surprised. There were no major hills, but mostly rolling "bumps" instead. I averaged 18 mph to the first rest stop (where we didn't stop), and I averaged 16 mph over the entire ride. Thirteen yesterday, 16 today. I don't get it. But I'll take it.
The only complaint I have to offer is that there were no porta-potties at either Rest Stop #3 or #4. The lady at #3 said we weren't supposed to go inside the church, but I saw people going in and out, presumably to use the restroom. Because she had told us we weren't supposed to, though, I didn't go in. I'm not sure why I follow SOME rules SOME of the time. Rest Stop #4 didn't have any restrooms either, and the building wasn't open, so Rozmo and I decided we would find a spot on the side of the road. We never did, though, and we made it all the way to the end without experiencing any discomfort.
My shifter broke about 6 miles from the end of the ride, so I couldn't change gears. Naturally I was in my HARDEST gear, and it didn't take much of a hill to make me appreciate those other gears that I couldn't use. I had to stand up and grind it out, but I made it to the end. After a wonderful post-ride meal (in an air-conditioned building, thank you ride organizers), I really wanted to come straight home. But I did the grown-up thing (?) and took my bike to the shop. I didn't even care that I was still wearing cycling shorts and didn't have a hat to put on my helmet-haired head. I put on the event t-shirt from today's ride and marched in that bike store like I looked normal. Perhaps to them I did, in which case I feel very sorry for them.
It was a beautiful day weather-wise, warm but not brutally so. The route was very rural and scenic, and it even went by the house where my father lived when he died. I didn't stop to take a picture because presumably the woman to whom he was married when he died (I refuse to call her my step-mother. We usually refer to her as Charlotte the Harlot.) still lives there, and I didn't want her to swoop down the driveway on her broom. Sorry.
I'm especially glad that my cycling mojo wasn't gone forever. I just hope it hangs around long enough for my bike to come home from the shop. I miss it already.