Reality Check.

I'm not that guy anymore.

Too much time off the bike, too much sitting around, too much extra weight.

Too little aerobic capacity and lean muscle mass.

I've been tooling around the Biloxi area in the small ring, trying to train away my natural tendency to grind, which uses muscles I no longer possess. My average speed for these jaunts was pitiful, but it was more about getting out and building some sort of a base of cycling fitness. From pretty much nothing.

So obviously it was a great idea to tag along on a weekly hammer ride. In the dark. On twisty roads I didn't know. With riders I didn't know. Having flashbacks of my last crit crash, the one that effectively ended my racing days. I was a ball of tension, redlined and closing gaps I should have never let open.

Yeah, I was dropped.

Once we re-grouped, I hung on. Once on familiar roads, I did ok. I wasn't at the front, but I wasn't dropped, either. The saddle sores I have been cultivating were screaming every time I hit a crack and hole, and I made sure to hit them all. It drowned out the crying of my muscles, so that was a nice change of pace.

I already knew I wasn't that guy anymore. I doubt I will be him again. Probably a good thing. I would love to have some measure of his fitness back, if only to slow the signs of aging that have piled up on me these last ten years. Maybe lose a little weight so I can not look like a stuffed sausage in even my largest kit.

I don't really need to win. I'd prefer not to lose, though.