Self-amputation: the future of sports medicine

In an uncharacteristic move of forethought for the big ride in July, I went on a Saturday 'morning' solo training ride. Unlike my usual weekend routine of getting out of bed at the 'late' break of dawn (i.e. 1:00pm), I rolled out at the ungodly hour of 10am. Seeing how traffic was light and few people were out and about, I think there is some law I am unaware of that prohibits people from roaming the streets before noon (I think it has to do with sunlight-sensitive zombies roaming the streets before the sun reaches its peak).




After riding downtown and a short ferry cruise to Bainbridge Island, I attempted the Chilly Hilly bike route but got lost and cut the 40 mile route by 5 miles. Still feeling frisky, I decided to ride to the Vashon ferry dock in West Seattle. I was staying hydrated (I'm still digging the Nuun tablets) and fed (Vanilla Gu and a couple of bugs that flew into my mouth) the whole time, so I was able to maintain a good pace (of which, much to my later chagrin, accidentally caused me to blow through a Pioneer Square construction zone, irking some city road workers).




Almost reaching the beachfront Lincoln park near the ferry dock, my lower left side of my back and leg started to get whiny about some sort of discomfort and pain. This is nothing new, seeing how my left leg is longer than my right, resulting in a compromised bike fit that accommodates both legs. The conflicting thought processes of each leg humored me along the way. My left leg was bitching along the lines of 'Dear God, please stop so that we can stretch. Otherwise, just chew me off and leave me behind' (I attempted to find a picture of an elderly person stretching by googling 'elderly stretch', resulting in this picture of two dudes with what looks like a twin-spout flamethrower).




The rest of my body was all 'Fuck you, left leg. We got a good rhythm going, so suck it'. This arguing kept on going for a good 15 minutes, until a decided to compromise by letting my left leg unclip and dangle while the right leg continued to pump away. Once I reached the Vashon docks, I did some lengthy stretching, preventing any further discomfort on the way home. The day's mileage totaled 67.5 miles (I rode up and down the driveway a couple of times to round up the number to that magical 0.5). The Chilly Hilly elevation gain is 2675 feet, but I think exceeded that by tacking on West Seattle and riding to and from Northgate. This sort of mileage and saddle time is in line with what the RAMROD training guide suggests, but I have yet to see any documentation detailing how to gnaw off whiny appendages like a squirrel with a leg caught in a trap.