This morning there were four of us on the bike ride – gearing up for the big ride – 150 miles – and I was doing great – Beth said I had increased from 14/mph to 18/mph in just three weekends, and then it hit me, an intestinal hit and I went down and I was sick to my stomach and shaky – and a few people stopped to help and one guy, who was fishing on the bridge with his son, came over to bring me a PowerAde that he insisted I drink – even though I could barely get my water down. I read the label – water, high fructose corn syrup – this can’t be good I thought – but after having upchucked by a tree, hooched over in the shade, surprisingly the PowerAde did the trick and brought me back from the wasteland.
It’s that one, two, three – I’ve had it twice before and now I know what it is – beef the night before, intense heat, extra exertion, and then dehydration – and suddenly whammo, I’m laid out like a pancake, unable to perform even the most menial task like thinking straight.
Y was by my side the whole time and she convinced me that going fast isn’t always the best approach. When will I learn that I can’t be a rockstar 24/7?