Opposites

I'd have to say the best part of cycling is the pain. Oh, don't get the wrong impression. I'm not a masochist. But it's the pain that lets me appreciate the flip side. A bit of the opposite helps  illuminate the original. That's not really a unique observation but it's certainly a true one. And not just with cycling. Take cooking, for example. A good chef knows that a bit of salt can help a sweet dish taste sweeter.

Don't believe me? Go find yourself a nice piece of dark chocolate. Dark mind you, not milk. Milk's all right for putting on cereal or in coffee but it has no place in chocolate. Chocolate milk – that's another matter. Delicious.

Now that I think about it, you'd better get a few pieces. Once you've started a scientific experiment it's important to finish and you  wouldn't want to run out of chocolate in the middle. And I  don't think it's really possible to have too much chocolate.

In addition to the chocolate you'll need to get some gray sea salt. I suppose you can use white or pink if you want. Somehow, though, the gray sort seems better to me. Maybe it reminds me of the fog and clouds that always seem to be lurking around the coast. Or perhaps I just like the name. It's one of those words that just sounds right. The word gray just sounds like something gray, doesn't it?

Of course, you might spell it grey and that'd be quite something else again. I don't like grey all that much. Reminds me of how some parents choose the name Krystal instead of Crystal just to be different. There's enough confusion in the world without  adding to it.  Get the gray variety.

Once you've got your ingredients the rest is simple. Eat a piece of chocolate and pay attention. This isn't nutrition – it's science. Is it sweet? Is it smooth? How about the flavor? I always find that the best chocolate has some kind of berry flavor. Or maybe cherry. Something fruity.

I suppose you should rinse your mouth before the next step but that may be sacrificing too much on the altar of science. Chocolate is a gift and rinsing it away seems too much like blasphemy to me.  So skip the rinse. Take your second piece and sprinkle some gray sea salt on it. Put it in your mouth and don't do it too quickly or the salt will fall off. 

There, what did I tell you? The salt brought the sweet out even more didn't it?  And that's why I like a little pain in my rides. Sometimes, at least. Like when I'm feeling strong and riding out of the saddle at 1000 feet. The summer air hot around me but I don't really feel it. My stopwatch reads 14 minutes and 28 seconds as I pass the small signpost telling the passerby that he's at not 1001 and not 999 but exactly 1000 feet above sea level.

Less than 14 and a half minutes is a good time. Good enough to push for a personal best. Not all-time personal best, that would never work. I've noticed, to my dismay, that as the years tick by I have to get more creative with personal bests.  Fastest time since the new year or fastest time since I  started riding seriously again. Something like that.

Whichever best it is, you have to reach for it. And at 14 minutes and 28 seconds it's looking good. So I stay out of the saddle and start to think about Star Wars. Not the movie but the soundtrack. Disney had it right when he advocated whistling while you work. It helps.  Even if you don't have the breath to actually whistle   you can hear the tune in your head. I don't even get creative and listen to much of it. I just focus on the exciting parts and replay it over and over as I crank the pedals around.

Five minutes more and I'm at “The Turn." Nothing special about it really except that it marks the beginning of the last lap. The slope's a little less intense right after the turn and I know I can make it to the ranch gate in less then five more minutes when I'm riding well. That's my finish point when I'm not going all the way up.

By now I'm breathing hard and the sweat is dripping onto my sunglasses. If I'm unlucky I'm also getting a stitch in my side but that's not too common. The pain from lack of oxygen though; that happens a lot. Some guys are made so that their legs give out before their lungs do. I'm the opposite. My legs are  usually willing but my lungs will often decide enough is enough. When that happens it means either slow up or retch. So I slow up.

For a bit. It's a balancing act to keep the power output just shy of too much and still enough to get a good time. That Star Wars theme will be starting on its twentieth repetition and the beauty of the landscape will start to fade just a bit as I concentrate on putting the power down.

Four minutes after “The Turn" I reach “The Sign." It's just a  speed limit sign but I know that, on fresh legs, I can reach the gate in 45 seconds from there. I also know that my legs aren't even close to fresh at this point but that's okay. I'll just do my best to convince them.

This is where I really get to shake hands with Mr. Pain. Because to make it in 45 seconds I have to increase my power output and that means I'll need more oxygen than my lungs can supply.  Hence I'll go into oxygen debt. This isn't as bad as it seems.

Well, actually, yes it is. It's pretty unpleasant. But what gets me through it is the absolute knowledge that once I'm done I'll feel great and forget all about how much it hurt. I think it's something along the lines of what happens with women in childbirth.  When it's happening it's like the world  is ending and you'd give anything to just stop the agony. Or so my wife tells me. The brain is a tricky devil, though, and as soon as   the baby is born it completely forgets the pain and focuses on the joy.  If that weren't the case we'd be a nation of single child households.

I've raced before and I know the pain will stop and that lets me push on. I've even found that if I gulp the air really quickly it helps stave off the inevitable dry heaves for a few yards, enough for a final sprint to the finish.  And so I do.

The dash completed, I ride for a few more yards all the while gasping like a beached whale and letting my heart rate come down from 190 beats per minute to something closer to a rest rate. And then I finally stop and dismount. I lay my bicycle on the ground and then sit down nearby.

No longer ignoring the mountain, now I take it all in. The winds rustle through the oaks and pines and sigh through the  dry grasses off the side of the road.  I just sit there and if I'm feeling adventurous I splash some of my drinking water down my shirt and enjoy the coolness as it evaporates away.  I close my eyes and feel a drop of sweat trickle past my nose and onto my upper lip, leaving its kiss of salt.

Too bad I forgot to bring any chocolate.
 

- And that's today's word from the bird