Stay down Rock.

First the bad news.

I managed a pathetic 3 hours yesterday en route to the attempted 33 miles of the infamous Chilly Hilly course. I really sucked. I am embarrassed and humiliated. So much for an accurate assessment of current fitness. It hurt and it hurt bad. There was no "additional gear", spare gas or even a comfortable cruising speed. If it weren't for the fact that I have been here before, I would throw in the towel, quit, give up, go home, look for a real job. My lower left side disc issue flared up almost at the fist sign of elevation gain (immediately) and was quickly joined by groin pain that I have self diagnosed as a sports hernia. These two provided the backdrop for misery that, when coupled with my still being physically in another time zone, made the going tough, real tough, and real tough real quick.

You can guess the rest. There was no sense risking additional injury to do something that I created as a test. That was the test.

I had stopped along the way to snap a shot of the run in one of those 180 degree driveway mirrors (shown). While doing so I must have dropped the five dollar bill housed in the fuel belt pocket. The plan was to stop at one of the three convenience stores alone the route and buy, well, sugar. I was at the first such store, at the counter with a chocolate milk and a snickers bar on the counter, drooling, when the fact of my loss was discovered. THAT HURT. I must have lost the dough when I took the photo.

Undeterred, I slugged along, now out of water as well. The plan falling apart in a hurry. By mile ten I was in trouble, and heard skinny tires rollup behind.

"Hey Kevin, what are ya doin?" called Vicky and Stephanie, out for a long ride. I explained the deal, and relayed the story of the milk and snickers. Steph asked if I wanted her extra hummus wrap, as they were almost done with their ride and heading home.

"Yes".

Man was that good. Garbanzo charged, I now had the gas to make it to RG's, with back and groin pain now at critical mass. I pleaded for a ride home, calling it a day after only three hours.

And now the good news.

This is all a test. The lessons learned are legion. Was I disappointed in my performance? Absolutely. I was crushed. Did I do the right thing? Define right. What was the positive take away?

1) Next time you decide to do this, make sure water and fuel are available along the course.

2) Try to establish a ramp up period so the distance isn't quite so shocking to the system.

3) Don't attempt while still dealing with jet lag.

4) Fix the damaged parts. Get another, updated diagnoses of the back and groin issues.

5) Keep on keepin on. There is no shame in stopping. This pain is temporary. To continue would have been stupid beyond even my skewed standards. The only real failure would be in quitting, not rising from the canvas.

6) I will never quit.

It was a good day. Lessons learned, experience gleaned, limits tested. A bloodied Rocky Balboa gets to his wobbly knees and steadies himself for another round.

Yo, Adrian.

I tried to blow the photo up to see my five bucks laying on the ground. No luck there either.