Last night was the Wednesday Wander ride with the Harrisburg Bicycle Club. The Wednesday night ride is slow. It should never exceed an average of 10mph. It typically lasts about an hour. And no one gets dropped. No one. The eight year old on the 20″ BMX doesn’t get dropped. The old lady who insists on keeping her gears small-small and won’t travel more than 6.2mph doesn’t get dropped. The fat guy who can’t ride up the little hill doesn’t get dropped. And I, pulling a 20lb trailer with a 40lb girl inside last night, didn’t get dropped.
I actually felt pretty good. Winded, but energetic. I kept up with the group so as to not cause them to slow down. Ross knew I was bringing the Megan along so he brought his Bob cargo trailer, with a stuffed pink pig strapped to it, along for the ride. I wish I had brought a camera. The pig was bigger than Megan, and the whole time we were out he got lots of comments. Megan, on the other hand, who usually gets the comments, got nothing.
So we finished the ride and headed home, about 11 miles in an hour and a half. Not too bad, and I felt pretty good. Until I got off the bike. The fatigue was unreal. I fell asleep on the couch in my clothes. My body is exhausted today. I haven’t felt like this since boot camp. There are no specific aches or sore muscles. I don’t feel like I need to sleep. The old muscles just don’t want to move.
Which leads me to believe….I need to bring her along for every ride. Masochism. Plain and simple. Megan, for some strange reason, seems fine. Damn kids.