The race that was supposed to be

So yesterday, May 1, was another race on my sked.  Again, it was the Race At The Lake near Akron, OH, the same course as last week (The RATL is a series of races, four Saturdays in a row).  It was an opportunity to get another race in, and to better my 4th place finish from the previous week.

I got up and out of bed at 7:00AM and proceeded to my computer where I checked out the weather radar for the area.  Behold, there before me on my screen was a huge mass of dark green, yellow, and red moving, albeit slowly, right towards the race venue.  "Ugh, that's gonna be supremely miserable and potentially dangerous," I mumbled to myself in my head.  "Nah, I think I'll pass on this one."  After convincing myself that it wasn't a good day to be racing, I meandered back to bed and under the covers, being quickly lulled back to sleep by the hum of my window fan.

A little later I got back out of bed and went back to my computer and refreshed the weather radar where I noticed and realized a huge mistake.  The huge multicolored mass wasn't getting to the race area.  A high pressure system in front of the mass was making it drift northward and away from the race.  The race was going to be dry.  But by this time it was to late to get going.  I had my chance.  Ohhh... I was fuming a little at myself.  How could I be so dumb!?  So lazy!?  Putz!

For the next few hours I sat refreshing the radar, hoping I would be proved wrong and that the rain mass would lurch westward and flood the race.  Nope.  Shoot.  At this point I knew a punishment was in order.  I suited up, filled up the water bottles, and set out for a very hard 65 mile ride, to serve as both a flogging and hard training.

My 65 mile route from my house is one of the hardest routes I could devise with four big climbs in the West Virginia Panhandle.  So off I went, into a somewhat strong headwind from the W/NW.  I went strong and hard.  I was mad that I was riding well and not racing, so I rode harder, flying.

This lasted for about 45 miles when I realized I was out of water on a very hot day, in the middle of Nowhere, WV.  I stopped at a church and two cemeteries looking for a water source.  Nothing.  I slogged on.  At 50 miles into the ride I fell apart like an old shoe, soft-pedaling my way along.  I started wishing for some kids with a lemonade stand to be... around this bend... okay this bend... uh, this bend... crap!

This went on, SLOWLY, for ten more miles until I got to the next town where I was able to get some water and recover.  At that point I was only five miles away from home and knowing that made things better too.  When I started the ride I was a stout 186 pound man.  When I finished I weighed in at 178, eight pounds less.  That's pretty significant water loss.

So I didn't get to race, which still bothers me, but I did get a good, hard workout in, at least for 45 of my 65 miles, and I'll be sure not to let my wavering hold me back again.