Ummmm... No.
Knee warmers weren't going to cut it. The leg warmers were called into play. A merino wool base layer went under the jersey, and the soft shell jacket topped it off. Thick wool socks on the feet.
It wasn't enough.
The ambient temperature was in the high 30s. Since it was relatively clear, I thought I could hack it. I forgot about windchill. I forgot that I had been softened not only by two months of not riding, but also a whole summer of relatively warm temperatures. I just plain forgot.
It didn't take me long to remember.
I figured I would warm up as I rode. At first, it seemed like I was right. Parts of me settled into a tolerable state, while others never really got with the program. Chief among these was my right hip. Clad only in a thin lycra shell, it protested loudly, especially when I turned into the wind. This wasn't going to work.
After only a half hour of riding, I was in my car and driving home, my hip cursing me as the car's heater slowly thawed it.
When I got home, my enthusiasm was muted to continue. Eventually I dragged myself onto the trainer and knocked out a tepid hour of Zwift. More than anything, I have to rebuild the mental game, and getting in the saddle when you don't want to enough times is the main part of this training plan. It isn't fun. You know what's fun? Climbing into bed under warm blankets and taking a long nap.
God, I'm getting old.
It wasn't enough.
The ambient temperature was in the high 30s. Since it was relatively clear, I thought I could hack it. I forgot about windchill. I forgot that I had been softened not only by two months of not riding, but also a whole summer of relatively warm temperatures. I just plain forgot.
It didn't take me long to remember.
I figured I would warm up as I rode. At first, it seemed like I was right. Parts of me settled into a tolerable state, while others never really got with the program. Chief among these was my right hip. Clad only in a thin lycra shell, it protested loudly, especially when I turned into the wind. This wasn't going to work.
After only a half hour of riding, I was in my car and driving home, my hip cursing me as the car's heater slowly thawed it.
When I got home, my enthusiasm was muted to continue. Eventually I dragged myself onto the trainer and knocked out a tepid hour of Zwift. More than anything, I have to rebuild the mental game, and getting in the saddle when you don't want to enough times is the main part of this training plan. It isn't fun. You know what's fun? Climbing into bed under warm blankets and taking a long nap.
God, I'm getting old.
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