Ragnarok(ish) post

I called from my back, directly in front of the Kwik Trip in Lake City.  My Dad was hitting golf balls in town, did I want a ride?  I did not.

I continued to follow my Garmin's purple line as it wound me out of town.  Near the edge of town a choice presented itself.  Would I follow my guiding line or wasn't Territorial Rd the way to Heath's Hill?

Jumping back a full week, the Ragnarok had come over this road without me.  It's sort of the crux of the event, the part where, when you dream about winning the Ragnarok, you ride away and stay away to the finish.  However, I had only ridden just over 20 miles with the group.  I'm used to not making it real far in my races these days.  The disappointment is something I've become accustomed to.  However, this wasn't the typical crap health, excuses, real issues whatever that had plagued my fall and winter.  This was squarely on my shoulders.  This time I'd just been an idiot and not worn enough clothing.  My expectation was that one thing would happen with the weather but a totally different thing had happened.  Pretty early on I looked around and noticed no one else had bare legs, my legs were turning a pinky red.  I was hurting.  I had a bit of chain suck and had to chase the lead group for a bit, but even that effort didn't warm me much.  That was that.  My first reaction had been to ride 100+ Sunday.  I woke up Sunday sick.  I had to wait and do nothing.

I put the whole thing out of my mind, focused on the Dickie Scramble stuff and family stuff that needed to be done during the week.  It snowed to the north late in the week and the road race was cancelled.  The Dairy Roubaix had called my name, but I was looking at waking up before 5 to get there and didn't want to do that to the 16 month old.  It was looking like I should just stay home and do the group ride.  Did some mapping, trying to come up with a group ride route that would take me somewhere inspiring.  All of the routes kept creeping too long.  It hit me that with all the wind out there that riding south for a while could be greatly rewarded and a plan formed.

In the end I made the right onto Territorial and up Heath's Hill.  Like all the other hills I pushed the pace.  A ride like this does way more than get rid of some frustration, but it did do some of that.  More so it changed my perspective a bit.  Being able to ride health wise and to enjoy the beauty of those roads is far more important than any race result.