Before heading out on my bike ride today, I spent some time looking at Google Maps thinking about where I was going to ride. Last summer I had some epic days, somewhere in the 35 mile range. This summer, between this, that and the other, I haven't quite gotten out that far. I have gone maybe 25 miles. Today I couldn't find a route that was going to get me to 25-30 without going far over, so in the end I just headed out the door at around 10:45 and decided to let me body tell me what to do.
Boy did it ever tell me. It often seems like, so long as I have adequate liquids -- preferably including electrolytes -- and I stop to get rest, I can just keep going, whatever the heat. Today was different. I stopped in the shade and drank every five miles or so. The hills were killing me, so I decided to loop back home and keep the ride to about 20. By the time I got to my neighborhood, my quad started cramping on me, or whatever the lower part of the quad above the knee is called. I ended up coasting the downhills in my nabe and gingerly walking the uphills.
One thing is clear. America has a ton of work to do to get the message of the most recent UN Report on the climate emergency drilled into its head. Still tons of people just riding around in big assed trucks. More people are going to need to have everything they own burnt to a crisp or blown away by a hurricane, more people will need to die, before the message is brought home. Shit, I myself have a lot of work to do. Priuses and cutting out beef won't get the job done.
nb. Per discussion with Adam Sunday morning at the Farm, my exhaustion was probably as much a function of not having rested enough from two hours of tennis the night before as it was the heat. Apparently, 55-year olds need to rest.
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