Rule #55: Earn Your Turns

I did go out seeking endorphins and inspiration. These articles don’t just write themselves. A climb and descent might just get enough O2 to the brain to knock something loose. Descending from our climb I did get inspired. An article about Rule #55; a descent is enjoyed so much more if you climbed it first. Smoking down the route one just slogged up is some sort of justice. The universe is balanced out. A descent is barely enjoyed if done before the climb. That descent is fun infused with dread. I’m dropping like a stone, Il Falcone cannot enjoy this. He is going to have to pedal all the way up this thing. Il Falcone is gravitationally challenged. Madonna! Climb then descend or descend then climb. This issue comes up always when living on the side of a volcano. If I was a good climber and a uncommitted descender I would feel differently.

Done and dusted, I was thinking, another article generated from just getting out and cycling. Get home, shower, a refueling lunch and knock this out. Maybe lunch should include beer. Write with alcohol, edit with caffeine, a wise man told me. Too late, I had bike brain.

Bicycle Brain- [bīsikəl brān]  Torpidity and lack of mental clarity as a direct result of stewing gray matter in hot blood, carbon dioxide and electrolytes. He had such bicycle brain that he lost his wallet between the bench he was sitting on and his bike, two meters away. 

ORIGIN Old English brægen; related to Dutch brein. (of course the Dutch would be involved).

I should have known this would happen but that is how bicycle brain works. It’s treacherous. There is little point is going out for a ride, seeking inspiration for a Velominati post, when such ride wipes the frontal lobes clear and infuses the brain with the dreaded dumb juice. I like to think everyone gets this condition but the evidence is not there. Geraint Thomas finishes every stage of the Tour with some genius remarks for the press. Yeah, well maybe thirty minutes later, after a shower and snack, he is on the Sky bus with a thousand meter stare and a little drool cup pressed to his chin. God I hope so, then we would have one thing in common.

And yes I have lost my wallet between the bench I was on, removing my cycling shoes and the two meters to my bike.