Hollow Legs

Sunday I felt like a bag of hammers.

Leaving the Ghost-town in the cold Sunday morning, I rode to Mark’s house for coffee. Mugs empty, we set-off to meet the Sunday Desert Sports group-ride posse at the Lajitas airport trailhead.

Within seconds I fell off Mark’s wheel. I had nothing. I’d push it and try to stay with him but quickly realized I was working way too hard. On even the slightest climb I found myself instantly shedding gears and slowly inching my way to the summit. My legs were hollow, nothing there. I would look down at my them and feel as though they replied mockingly “Yup, this is all you get.”

As you can imagine, my failing body caused my mind to waiver. “F- this, I’m done” I said to myself. As we rolled out of the parking lot, I stayed near the rear, knowing I would turn home and not do the full ride.

Finding my friends at the bail-out spot, they stood waiting, looking at me expectantly. I announced I was calling it a day and heading home. I had nothing in my legs…and I was sulking.

“Don’t come to my house, drink coffee with me, get me out here for a ride then bail! Oh no, you keep riding!” Mark scornfully admonished me. I dropped my head.

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“You’re how old?….” Melissa asked…her with more rings on the trunk than I. No reply.

Sigh. Okay, I’ll ride, but I ain’t staying up front.

I never felt strong. On the flats and climbs I needed to let Mark and Eric stay in front. Out of Fun Valley, however, I made sure to sit on Mark’s wheel as we smashed the hell out of that single-track. Damn that was great, love that section of trail. But I worked harder for it than I’m used to. I wasn’t happy but I got it done.

When the body is weak the mind may follow…. And that’s just how it goes sometimes. Just keep on pedalling.