I am becoming fast.
I'm not yet fast, but fastness beckons me.
Long-sufferingness I have. Speed I am pursuing.
In the last couple of weeks I've noticed a distinct reserve of power in my legs when I reach down into my muscles for some oomph, to catch or drop a roadie, to beat a light, to pass a car...of late, I've not been passed by other cyclists at all. And they've tried.
No, I'm stronger. I can put out the watts like never before. And I can keep it up for at least a dozen mile commute. With hills. I've been on a plateau for a long time. Now I've busted through that ceiling and I'm headed for 10,000 feet.
Yesterday on the way home I got into a groove. I straightened some curves, snapped some Lycra, frightened some bunnies and burnt the hair off my own legs.
I didn't feel it this morning. My legs felt hollow, overworked, tired. I did leg presses to the tune of 400 lbs and then 275 lbs sets yesterday morning.
But then right off the bat this morning, as I turned onto Ridge Road, I got my rabbit, a roadie in full kit. Sha-ZAAM! I overtook him and rocketed across the flats. He never stood a chance.
Shortly thereafter I dropped another commuter and blew his doors off. I cranked across No Man's Land and into the Wind Tunnel between the mesas but nothing slowed me down.
As I rolled into Golden I felt a brief drop in energy, but the real climb begins in Golden, so I slammed down on the pedals, and "kicked" as we used to say in cross country, crashing into the building only 45 minutes after leaving the Bikeport. I'd ridden 11 miles. 14.7 mph.
I can do 15.