Clawing my way back - and opening my suitcase of Courage

Last night I got my butt handed to me. I was doing 3 X 8 minute intervals and about three minutes into the first one, I was praying I would get run over by a Mack Truck to end my hell.

It was beyond rough, but when you have your team mate yelling at you to "keep going, you can do it, you're stronger than that - ride through it" you kinda don't want to lay your bike down on the side of the road and cry like a three year old. So I did them. Ok I did two decently well and then the third I just lost it - I had decided to hang out a bit and get a full recovery before starting the last effort. That was a big mistake - I was about 90 seconds into it and caved. At least I didn't resort to crying a-la Marco Pantani, but it was ugly I tell you.

And then to add insult to pain - I had to climb the new hill I live up on top of. What moment of lunacy brought on that decision (the one to buy a house on top of a hill)??

so I climbed it in 2:36 which is better than last week - but it will now be my benchmark....of pain!

Ever onward!