My Poor Little Soldier

I swear to you this just happened not more than 30 minutes ago. I could not keep my eyes open after my windy ride, and just as I'm about to sleep it off, Superpounce wakes me up and asks me if a friend can come over "when I'm done with my nap."

**blink**

Yeah. I guess that would be now, wouldn't it?

Anyhow, first day back on the tri-bike in months, and as I'm getting ready this morning I remember, "drat, I'm out of lube."

See, my favorite anti-friction lube is made by Brave Soldier. Well that's not exactly true. My favorite lube has nothing to do with triathlon, but rather with one of the few activities for which I'd cancel a bike ride.

Anyway, Brave Soldier stays in place, works all day, and has a brisk, mentholy kind of feel that makes my little brave soldier feel all cool and comfy. (But fair warning, I'm not sure how pleasant that would feel if, say, you are the kind of triathlete that does not have a brave soldier, but instead (not to be indelicate) has a more "open" system).

But I'm out of Brave Soldier anti-friction cream, so I just HTFU and go.

Well, not harden, actually. Not literally. That would be very counterproductive. I Just stop complaining, slather on a little body glide, put on my most comfortable bib shorts, and get after the ride.

But I discovered something quite unpleasant during the ride. Again, it was my first time back on the tri-bike in months, and the first time in the aero position in those bib shorts. And much to my horror and discomfort those shorts get all sorts of folds and creases in the aero position right where I have all sorts of folds and creases. And my brave little soldier's base did not have any Brave Soldier to smooth things over.

Then, my riding companion and I discovered that part of the reason we were going so well on the way out was the massive headwind we would face on the way back. And me without a full night's sleep and dehydrated and underfed with an unhappy little soldier. But Coach Kris said 3 hours on the bike, and 3 hours of honest work is what I gave him. It was just a lot harder than the effort he had asked for, or that I intended to give.

But now my nap is over, and being dad replaces all the Ironman athlete fantasies of the morning ride.



After rides like that, you wonder, "who was that guy who ran a marathon off the bike last June. He sure looked like me, but it must have been someone else."