Friday, June 29, 2012

Ft. Baker

I can't catch Asprilla up Hawk Hill. On the way across the Bridge I told myself to hang on to his wheel as long as I could. Deciding that early gives the mind a break, but not the legs. It's all determination and effort from there. So just before the tunnel that leads to the Start, when Asprilla went down to Ft. Baker and sea level, I did, too.

Great, I thought, the mind already getting in the way, you'll fall off a lot earlier on the Hill than you thought you would. It almost happened on the 300 vertical feet from Ft. Baker to the Start, a short, steep half mile that felt steeper than the Hill itself, later confirmed at the comfort of my desk by Strava over a cup of coffee. I lasted to the Start, telling Asprilla that I was on his wheel and I was hoping to stay there, remembering that people who say things out loud are more likely to accomplish them, and even lasted through the Start. Just as we were getting into the False Flats, as Asprilla pushed into higher gear asking if we'd ever get a tailwind instead of the usual headwind, I lost him.

I pedalled through the Flats alone, as did Asprilla, and kept the gap about where it was through the Circle to the top, crossing fourteen seconds after his 12:49. That's enough to give me hope for next week. On the Sprint, I said I'd lead the group out, which I did after Joe Louis dropped off, and when you say you're going to do that, that's what you end up doing, even if you stand up and sprint at the end, it's unlikely you'll cross the line first, not just because you've done the work for the others behind you, but because you've made up your mind that the day's for leading others out, not winning.

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