They say that intervals are a great way to lose weight and get into shape. Seriously? I'm sure it works but I haven't seen any results. Then again they have to be "structured." That's the problem I am having.
I like in the North Georgia Mountains. The key word there is "mountains." There are no flat surfaces anywhere, not even in a parking lot. That would be really attractive; going back and forth across a parking lot, fast then slow. It reminds me too much of "suicides" in PE. I hated those. PE teachers are sadists.
There is one part of my "long' ride where I sometimes try intervals. It's on the way back since it's mostly downhill. That's the key to my ride--I go uphill away from home and downhill coming back. If I went the other way I would make two revolutions of the pedals and the next thing you know I am somewhere in northern Fulton County trying to get a lift back home since there is no way in the world that I could ever make it back up. A man has got to know his limitations.
On days that I don't go for a long ride I end up doing intervals whether I want to or not. However they aren't very structured. They are completely random and happen when I don't want them or need them.
The first kind is when I am approaching an intersection. Either someone wants to pull out into the highway or wants to turn into their driveway or some combination of things.
So of course I speed up. I don't want to be that guy. Besides, I get yelled at enough as it is. People are jerks. But that's another story.
Another interval is of the canine variety. And you wonder why I like cats. These aren't always random since I know where most of the dogs live. Usually on a hill.
There is a house that I have passed every day since it was built sometime in the 80s. I have never once seen a dog there in all this time. Then, a few months ago, one just appeared almost out of thin air. A big one.
Fortunately it's one of the few flat spots in the area and I just made like Mark Cavendish sprinting for the finish line. Unfortunately the finish line is an intersection about eighty yards away.
One of the myriad of problems I have is that is dogs are faster than me. Well, to be specific, faster than my bike. It doesn't take long for me to run out of gears. That's the thing about mountain bikes--they are fine in the mountains. Anywhere else it's like showing up for the Indy 500 with a tractor.
And as I ride off to my certain doom the nice lady who owns the dog said, "Sorry!" At least I got that going for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment