BONK!!!
As I looked into the clear blue sky, the cool grass surrounded me muffling the sounds of the squealing herd of children. I tilted my head weakly and peaked over to the playground hearing Soraya barking orders at Brandon, their movements slowed by my dreamy state. My legs were in the throes of rigor. The leaves rustled in the soft Western sea breeze. I was beat. Toast. Stick a fork in me, I was done.Bonking. Cyclists' worst fear, besides crashing. And usually, it actually ranks number one on the hit parade.
I should have expected it. My legs were flat, there was no spring in them. I had only two pancakes for breakfast. Looking back to the night before, I, for some mysterious reason, skipped dinner. Prime time for fueling up for the next day. I was creating a monster and didn't even think about it.
Midway up the Big Basin climb my legs were struggling, but I was fooling myself as I passed cyclist after cyclist. It did not occur to my ego (and sound judgement) that they were an eclectic group of two-wheelists. Mountain bikes, Clydesdales (bigger heavy riders), girly girls (hey, I know there are certain female cyclists who can kick my butt all over the mountain...but not these ones...), backpack toting hippies, a varied cornucopia of bicycling enthusiasts. I did not care if they were 500 pound senior citizens on rusty Huffy's...I was passing them! Yeah, I was chasing fool's gold.
I crested the climb my head hanging, I had made it. Turning onto Skyline Boulevard, my speed increased. Hey!? My legs don't feel that badly?! Skyline Boulevard is a rolling highway that runs along the peaks of the Santa Cruz mountains. Usually I can keep a steady pace, but it didn't occur to me that I was out of my saddle more often than not. Not a good sign.
Page Mill Road signaled that it was time for me to turn downward and to zip down the Santa Cruz Mountains into Palo Alto. At the bottom of the decent was when it hit. When I realized I had made a serious miscalculation. I was bonking. I was bonking hard. Coming down Page Mill Road I didn't feel it, but now that I was turning onto El Camino Real and pushing the pedals I felt all of my energy flooding away from me. 20 plus miles from home, I was in trouble.
The Wikipedia definition of bonking: A condition when the athlete suddenly loses energy and fatigue sets in, usually caused when glycogen stores in the liver and muscles are depleted, resulting in a major performance drop.
A major performance drop?!!! Hell, I was crashing and burning.
Suddenly the flats of El Camino Real seemed like climbing Mont Ventoux. I was struggling. It was survival time, and I have admitted on many occasions that at times I question my mental toughness. Thankfully, this was one of those times that my will came through. Running out of water, I found a playground to fill my depleted reservoir. It seemed that in spite of my total planning disaster, Lady Luck was smiling upon me.
When I finally saw my garage, I was on the verge of tears. Tears of joy. I had survived. My legs could not have turned the pedals one more stroke. I could barely move as the water from my post ride shower pelted my neck and back. I groaned as I realized that I had promised Soraya and Brandon that I would take them to the park.
The kids screamed on the playground as they performed various acrobatic tricks on the play structure. I breathed deeply, my damaged muscles still screaming for oxygen. I bonked. I bonked hard. It was a great Memorial Day...
Labels: bicycles, bonking, hitting the wall
posted by LoneCactus @ 9:33 PM
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