Getting Golden

This past weekend, Elliot and I headed down south, originally, to the race the Rock 'n Roll Marathon. It was not to be however, over the past 5 weeks I had narrowly survived a fit of anti-biotic resistant TB and Elliot couldn't run more than a mile on a pesky stress fracture. In the end, we found ourselves on the sidelines.

Not all was lost. We decided to take advantage of our 48 hours of sunshine by renting road bikes and logging as many sun-drenched miles as our legs could handle.

We went to Tempe Bicycles that afternoon to pick up a matching pair of Masi road frames. What they lacked in performance (each weighing close to 400 lbs, decked out with Shimano 105 or lower) they made up for in....well, nothing at all. They were grade A pieces of shit. With the knowledge that the shifty piece of American engineering between my legs could rattle apart at any moment, I kicked off and headed north.

Never having any idea where I'm going, I let Elliot do the navigating. We charged for two hours into a head wind. Looking down out my shapeless, rubbery, atrophying legs; I felt like a slightly fuzzier, much whiter version of Gumby. Being out of shape sucks. Eventually, our route took us far from town into the red rocks and scrub brush of southern Arizona. Luckily, after about 40 miles we turned back towards town and the wind pushed us home. The first ride of the season was a killer.

The next morning we rose early and did the same ride before the plane ride home. We both felt stronger and the desert sunrise was unforgettable. We made it to Missoula that evening, with slight tan lines and enough vitamine D to get us through 'till spring.

Everyone, start getting juiced for a spring break training trip. There is nothing better than putting in day after day, of long, hard (that's what she said) sun-soaked miles with your best friends.

Signing off,

Matty