Fuel Factor

I don’t know what’s up with my riding, but I think I’m getting worse, if that’s possible, and I’m sure it is. While that may be a bit of an overstatement, it took me just over fifty-eight minutes to finish three laps in Central Park on Tuesday evening and a hair over an hour to do the same three laps at five this morning, I’m concerned.

The first time I reached the big hill at the north end of the park this morning, I stood up and charged most of the way, planting my butt in the seat and downshifting for the last few meters. The second time around, I kept my butt in the seat and did what I could. The third time around, I felt miserable, my speed dropping from roughly thirteen miles-per-hour to maybe ten, possibly nine.

Over the past two days, I had been telling myself that I would push as hard as possible in an attempt to shave thirty or so seconds off my time from Tuesday night. I thought I had it until those last few miles when, every time I reached and uphill, I knew I was spent, completely out of gas.

I could make excuses and attribute the slide in performance to the time of day. I usually train in the evening when I’m running on a full tank of fuel. Leaving the house this morning, I did so on an empty stomach with nothing other than a bottle of water to keep me going. Could riding so early in the morning cause a lapse in my time by over a minute?

I’ll try again Saturday, but not so damn early in the morning. I’ll get up, have some cereal, maybe a tangerine, wait half an hour, and then hit the road. If I’m able to beat fifty-eight minutes, then I’ll know this morning’s miserable performance had everything to do with the lack of fuel. If I can’t beat fifty-eight minutes, then I’m more of a mess than I previously thought and I have zero business trying to race a bicycle.