Da Girlz, Da Girlz!

Just prior to my legs taking a leave of absence on my ride this past Saturday, I recall a light headedness coming over me as my heart rate began to max out. From the corners of my hazy vision, I could see maidens by what seemed the hundreds beginning to line the roadside as I called upon the last of my glycogen reserves. I remember that the maidens were of all races and colors and, in my mind, they were cheering me on toward the peak - demonstrating their solidarity in my quest to top Rush Fork! Their numbers amazed me as they pushed beside each other to watch me throw all I had into, first, my right leg and then my left leg - mashing with every fiber of my being to make it to the top. Weaving was out of the question as I read in a blog somewhere that weaving was cheating. I knew I had to do it the "right" way. I also knew that traffic of the automobile type was surrounding me and weaving seemed to be a poor tactical move at the moment.

I could see the top of the climb through the haze of perspiration as it ran down the inside of my Lance Armstrong Oakly Radars. I could hear the various exclamations of MY "girls" as they called out sounds of encouragement. I could see them pulling their young ones beside them as if to say, "look, kids, you may never see this again. The effort... The drive!" The heat of the sun was baking me through my long sleeve Team USA cycling jersey. I knew that I must labor on - for the crowd. I couldn't disappoint them. They'd given me such support on the climb! But, alas, it wasn't to be - I was pooped, I was popped, I was done for the day. My moment of achievement was now a mere wisp of thought - secured in my heart for another day, another climb. Now that I was out of the cleats, the girls began to move away. I don't know - maybe they didn't want to see the disappointment in my eyes. Perhaps they too shared some of my sadness at not making it to the top and they needed the separation in order to get away from the scene as well.

As I walked my Fuji CCR3 to the peak and felt my heart rate returning to normal, I looked back hoping to see some glimmer of hope. It was then that I realized that the G.C. Palmer dairy cattle had apparently found me to be some kind of brief entertainment in their day of grazing. Man, he has a big herd!

Until later,

-- Zeke