Bonk.

The last week or so I've been riding a wave of feeling good about my fitness. The legs turned the pedals over so well that I often overshot my goals and ended up working too hard. I couldn't help it. These short bouts of fitness usually are separated by whatever illness the baby passes on to me as I wipe up whatever bodily fluid is leaking out of him at a given moment. That's part of being a dad, so I can't complain.
 
Last night I got on the bike much later than I should have, given that I had to wake up early for a workout that was planned to be a bit intense. I hadn't eaten much all day, and the stuff I didn't eat wasn't exactly nutrient-packed. Still, I hammered away and then shut it down early to try to conserve something for this morning.
 
I failed.
 
As soon as I started pedaling with any sort of intensity, the heart rate shot up and the lights went out. There was nothing in the legs. I could barely turn over the pedals and had to admit defeat before I ever got started. Coincidentally, I was watching Stage 16 of the 2006 Tour de France, where Floyd Landis blew up and lost 10 minutes and the yellow jersey.
 
An hour later, I was fine. Not that I got on the bike again to make sure, but the worst of it passed.
 
I'll try to re-fill the tanks today and get back on this afternoon to see what is there. Maybe I'll have a ride like Floyd did on Stage 17, only without the blood bags and failed drug tests. I seem to have no problem bouncing between highs and lows without them.

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