I have to be honest – I haven’t ridden a whole lot since Sunday.  After the big weekend push, I opted for a break from the saddle and drove to work.  There was a steady north wind that would have made for a nice morning tailwind but I was glad I wouldn’t be riding home in it.  Turns out I needn’t have worried as it had turned into one of those rare double-tailwind days.  Sigh…  I didn’t ride today either.  My left knee started giving me little warnings towards the end of Sunday’s last ride and again on Tuesday, but then I may have abused it a little both days.

I didn’t really feel like riding on Tuesday any more than I had on Monday, but I don’t wanna didn’t feel like a reasonable excuse.  I always feel better once I’m out there and save for almost freezing my toes off, I rarely regret going for a ride.  The start of my commute from home is always misleading as the first kilometer and and a half is essentially downhill.  It looks like this:

The secret to early morning speed - losing elevation.

No kidding the first few minutes feel like a piece of cake.  Effortless!  I’m a cycling god!  Then of course, what goes down, must come up and no matter how much I will it away, it’s there when I’m coming home.

Is there another route around this?

Actually, there is a route around it, that looks like this:

“But that doesn’t look so bad” I hear you saying.  How about we look at it in un-zoomed mode?

Just like how it feels

Yeah, there’s a way around my homeward climb – it’s 8 kilometers farther and it means a longer, higher climb.  That’s not an easier route.  It’s a much more painful, challenging route.  You know though, that big drop from the peak?  That’s serious fun.  Ordinarily an oxymoron perhaps – serious fun – but what better way to describe a ride that dumps you downhill hard enough that you can keep pace with the minivans and buses that crowd the road you’re on?  Speed = fun!  Buses and minivans driven by rushing, impatient non-cyclists that would like to crush you = serious business.  Serious fun!

Despite still  having a desire level of zero, I had an excellent day riding on Tuesday.  I chased down the elusive Purple Rabbit finally, only to find that she wasn’t he and thus wasn’t the Purple Rabbit.  Then I spotted another rabbit panting and spinning his way up the canal-to-26th hill which is short but sudden and looks like this:

Whoa! Who put that there?

That’s what it feels like too – you come rushing down from Max Bell, zip underneath 17th Ave and hit a cliff face that makes short work of your momentum.  I seem to have forgotten how to get up there quickly, but I was faster than the poor guy in front of me.  It’s a real killer ‘eh I offered as I passed the panting, sweating rider, before disappearing up the remaining climb.  I have to admit though, it felt good being the one riding away instead of wishing for a quick death.  Turns out the 1000km crush was good for something after all.

On the way home, I was on the receiving end.  Casually pedaling through Max Bell, not really wanting to be on the bike, I almost ran a passing rider off the path as she came from behind unannounced.  Whoah! Sorry ’bout that I blurted as she climbed past me.  On her BMX.  With her jeans and hoodie.  Followed by her friend.  What the?  What just happened here?  I’d just been double-chick’d and not by some fellow riders but a couple of high-school girls on BMXs.  With one gear.  I soon returned the favour as, while she may have been out-climbing me, she wasn’t interested in out-sprinting me – at least not nearly as interested as my ego was.

This put me at Memorial drive where there was enough cyclist traffic, I had to wait to get on the the northbound path.  A rider coming from downtown headed past and I pulled in to follow him.  It took less than 10 seconds for him to look over his shoulder and see me coming.  Then it was on.  Oh man, it’s so on!  Head down, legs steaming, lungs burning, sweat streaming down my face.  I’d close the gap and he’d open it back up.  I’d get within drafting distance and he’d power away, distancing me again.  On and on it went, from Memorial to McKight and finally Goddard Avenue where our paths, mercifully, diverged.  Looking over with a smile on my face, the mustachioed rabbit was smiling back, both of us acknowledging the impromptu race and a mutual respect for the efforts (at least that’s what I’m taking it as).

The chase awakened the dormant sprinting spirit from last year.  I’ve been so busy chasing distance that I haven’t been riding near my limits.  This year has been all double-distance commutes and how far can I go today rides.  Last year was almost entirely daily sprints, arriving at work (or home) breathless and spent, checking each ride against previous runs.  Perhaps this year we can find some balance.  Maybe some hills.  I have this overwhelming desire to ride the Highwood pass which I’d better do soon if I’m going to  while not getting run over as the road is closed to (vehicle) traffic until June 14th.

So…who’s up for a run over the Highwood Pass?  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?  Bueller?  Mewha?  Hendry?  Cheater?