The road can be a lonely mistress sometimes... More often it can be a neurotic, hell-bent bitch goddess from hell (yeah, I know I said hell twice, it fits).
You see this side when you are out with buddies, busting up that hill. Head down, legs burning, sweat dripping in past the sunglasses, (did I mention legs burning?), cursing the bike the hill your buddies and trying like hell to remember why you thought this route was a good idea all those torturous minutes/hour ago.
This is, of course, compounded by the chase - when you do make the effort to look up, there is robobiker, the Armstrong acolyte with seeming endless supplies of ATP and no give-up. He churns up the hill as if he made a different deal with gravity then you did. Catching him was the goal this time out, but he didn't get the memo or maybe he did and he never liked you as much as he said he did and seeing you hurt makes him warm and fuzzy inside.
To recap - legs burning, eyes bleary, heart pounding, lungs squealing, head reeling, robobiker pulling away. Now is the time that the bitch goddess throws in more hill; you've ridden this route every Sunday for a year and yet this part is always a surprise - dumbass!
Then, decision time: push up the hill straight ahead, blow it all right here, leave it on the hill like you left your garanimals behind when you went to college. Or, give in just a bit, let robobiker win (AGAIN!) and save a bit for the finish. You can traverse to the top from here, but what's to be gained by traversing? where's the last scrap of dignity? where's that bit you need to hold onto, the bit that brings you back out here next Sunday. Hell, as one last question - where is the workout and reward for traversing?
Traverse and live to fight on the flats or shoot the moon, put up a hill win and maybe take a small chunk out of the robobiker edifice; this is what it has come down to and all the while you are banging it out up the steepest hill in existence that doesn't a French name or team of Sherpas at the bottom and a base camp in the middle.
But here, in your darkest moment, the light flickers anew, there is a way out, a hope, a chance to traverse and keep your manhood intact. Cause all those hours ago, before the ride you made one great decision (obviously not the one to ride l'Alpe D'Huez west) but the other one - you brought Bait. Bait will bring up the rear, Bait will save the day (AGAIN!). While you won't win this one, you sure as hell won't lose it, and that, for today anyway, will be enough. Thank God Bait showed up.
"Listen, here's the thing. If you can't spot the sucker in the first half hour at the table, then you ARE the sucker."
- Mike McDermott - Rounders
Look at your group of riding, running, swimming, tennis, golf, poker, canasta, full contact chess, buddies - if you can't spot the Bait, you are the Bait. They may like you, find you endlessly fascinating, or ceaselessly funny, but think about it, when was that ever the case? Nope, you are the Bait, it is your sole contribution to the collective. You are there to make the others feel better about their own efforts.
Now, you have two choices: get better or get some new Bait. Honestly, you ain't catching robobiker in this lifetime, but you do have a work buddy, neighbor or brother-in-law you can drag into the fray. The choice is obvious - last one in feeds the bear, and everybody not last is close enough to first that the difference doesn't seem worth the effort.
Got Bait?
You see this side when you are out with buddies, busting up that hill. Head down, legs burning, sweat dripping in past the sunglasses, (did I mention legs burning?), cursing the bike the hill your buddies and trying like hell to remember why you thought this route was a good idea all those torturous minutes/hour ago.
This is, of course, compounded by the chase - when you do make the effort to look up, there is robobiker, the Armstrong acolyte with seeming endless supplies of ATP and no give-up. He churns up the hill as if he made a different deal with gravity then you did. Catching him was the goal this time out, but he didn't get the memo or maybe he did and he never liked you as much as he said he did and seeing you hurt makes him warm and fuzzy inside.
To recap - legs burning, eyes bleary, heart pounding, lungs squealing, head reeling, robobiker pulling away. Now is the time that the bitch goddess throws in more hill; you've ridden this route every Sunday for a year and yet this part is always a surprise - dumbass!
Then, decision time: push up the hill straight ahead, blow it all right here, leave it on the hill like you left your garanimals behind when you went to college. Or, give in just a bit, let robobiker win (AGAIN!) and save a bit for the finish. You can traverse to the top from here, but what's to be gained by traversing? where's the last scrap of dignity? where's that bit you need to hold onto, the bit that brings you back out here next Sunday. Hell, as one last question - where is the workout and reward for traversing?
Traverse and live to fight on the flats or shoot the moon, put up a hill win and maybe take a small chunk out of the robobiker edifice; this is what it has come down to and all the while you are banging it out up the steepest hill in existence that doesn't a French name or team of Sherpas at the bottom and a base camp in the middle.
But here, in your darkest moment, the light flickers anew, there is a way out, a hope, a chance to traverse and keep your manhood intact. Cause all those hours ago, before the ride you made one great decision (obviously not the one to ride l'Alpe D'Huez west) but the other one - you brought Bait. Bait will bring up the rear, Bait will save the day (AGAIN!). While you won't win this one, you sure as hell won't lose it, and that, for today anyway, will be enough. Thank God Bait showed up.
"Listen, here's the thing. If you can't spot the sucker in the first half hour at the table, then you ARE the sucker."
- Mike McDermott - Rounders
Look at your group of riding, running, swimming, tennis, golf, poker, canasta, full contact chess, buddies - if you can't spot the Bait, you are the Bait. They may like you, find you endlessly fascinating, or ceaselessly funny, but think about it, when was that ever the case? Nope, you are the Bait, it is your sole contribution to the collective. You are there to make the others feel better about their own efforts.
Now, you have two choices: get better or get some new Bait. Honestly, you ain't catching robobiker in this lifetime, but you do have a work buddy, neighbor or brother-in-law you can drag into the fray. The choice is obvious - last one in feeds the bear, and everybody not last is close enough to first that the difference doesn't seem worth the effort.
Got Bait?
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