Over the past two weeks, I set out to prove the above theorem. We finally moved into our house in north Orem last weekend. The day after we finished unloading, I took off on a trip for work (Wesla loves how I time those trips), and ended up eating out almost every meal for a week. I told Wesla that she'd better have all of the boxes unpacked by the time I got home, or there would be hell to pay. She actually did better than expected, considering that she's already working overtime watching Finley and Aubrie (Wesla's the best). As soon as I got back, the entire family (except for me) got sick.
I finally got out on a few rides last week. During my first few rides I felt slow and sluggish as expected. Friday evening I threw in some efforts on the mtb up on BST and felt pretty drained. The next morning I hooked up with Chad and Ryan for some climbing on the road, and I expected to be in the hurt locker after the efforts of the previous evening. We did Suncrest and then AF Canyon to Tibble, and I actually felt pretty good, so I'm not sure about the above theorem after all. What I am sure of is that I never know when I'm going to feel good. Sometimes I'll have perfect preparation for a ride/race and feel crappy, and other days (like this past ride), I'll go into a ride expecting to be slow and actually feel pretty good.
On the way down from AF canyon, the adventure started. I was riding 3rd wheel at the time when the fellas in front pointed out some rocks on the right shoulder. I veered to the left and ended up slamming my front wheel into another good-sized rock sitting in the middle of the road. Fortunately I stayed upright (I was going close to 40 at the time), but my front tire instantly flattened. I yelled to the guys in front but they couldn't hear me (or maybe they just wanted to be rid of me) and ended up riding to the bottom. I checked my supplies and realized that somewhere between my ride the evening before and now I'd lost my CO2 cartridge, so I was S.O.L. I was already cutting things close with the curfew set by my wife, so I hopped back on my bike and started riding on my rim. It turns out you can ride okay without any air in your front tire as long as the road doesn't slope too much to the left or right. Chad and Ryan eventually climbed back up and looked relieved that I wasn't dead. After a couple failed attempts to fix my tire, Ryan thumbed me a ride with a pickup truck filled with more Mexicans than I ever realized could fit into a pickup truck (the Spanish came in handy). I jumped into the truck bed and got hauled back to where my car was waiting. Considering that the rock could have sent me to the hospital, I'd say the ride turned out okay.
I was hoping to get a ride in this morning in preparation for RAWROD, but instead I'm at home watching my sick little girl while my sick wife and son sleep in. I'll admit that after looking at the chilly forecast for today, it didn't take much arm twisting to keep me home. I just hope that I can avoid the bug they have until at least after RAWROD this weekend.