Tour of Denial, Stage 3

  Mid to late spring is one of my favorite times to get out and ride.  The creeks are full and the mountain flora is just starting to awaken and bloom.  There is not a lot of dust on the trail so the traction is better than normal.  I should have been going up to speed by now but instead I was losing my enthusiasm.  Everything seemed to take so much more effort.  I would still take the time to clean my bike after every ride and bring it inside.  My bike began to spend more and more time inside as I rode less and less. 

   I could still run my dog team using the scooter.  As the days got warmer I was only able to run the team on weekends and in the early morning.  By now I had bought a new helmet camera for recording my dog runs.  Running the dogs did not take a lot of energy on my part.  I was getting that sensation of speed vicariously through my dogs.  It was one of the few sources of adrenaline type fun that I still had.  

   In mid June on Fathers Day I went to Nevada City to watch the Tour of Nevada City Classic.   Lance Armstrong would be there with his team mates and it was promising to be a pretty good show.  An old friend Grant Boswell, had a son in the junior race and that also added interest for the day.  I had met his son last as a young child and now he was a strapping sinewy roady just like his dad.  My old friends Mike and Marsha were also there and their daughter was in the woman's race. It was a great day for the next generation of cyclists in my small world.   I often meet up with old friends in Nevada City and we catch up. One thing I couldn't do was suggest we go on a ride.  I was ashamed that I was so out of shape at this time of year and I didn't talk about it.  I walked a lot that day in the hilly little town.  I was not in very good walking shape either.  I was starting to get out of breath without much exertion.  

   Something was going wrong but I didn't have a clue.  I just thought I was lazy. When I looked in the mirror, I had the bread face of an out of shape cyclist.  I was sure my friends could see it too.  My legs were hairy.  As an old roady I looked forward in the spring to the time I felt good enough to shave my legs and don the garb of the roady.  I didn't feel worthy to shave yet.  I really missed that day with clean shaven legs, a sparkling road bike and  in full lycra, spinning an easy 100 rpms down the road.  That day didn't come this year.