I think Mongo has finally gotten his renegade eating habits under control...for now. After weeks of bitching about my bad performances on the hills of the Hammerfest, I finally realized that insufficient training combined with my "goat-like" consumption of anything in front of me were to blame for my recent sucking.
Last Monday's 'Fest was rained out due to...rain...and about 1000 lightning strikes recorded in the area. I was kind of happy because I was probably headed into another sub-par performance. That gave me a week to get my shit together. Actually, only three days of riding, but who's counting?
I made a plan using my highly successful, "Cat 5 Domination" training method...A medium paced 50 miles on Thursday, a fast paced 40 miles on Saturday, and a recovery pace 30 miles on Sunday. All of these were accomplished in a heat index above 100 degrees.
Much like the recent World Cup spirited in the resurgence of backyard soccer, over-acting, and Vuvuzelas, the Tour de France reminded many a douchebag that they had a Litespeed/Serotta/Cervelo/Trek/Colnago collecting dust in their basement/garage. The past couple of weekends have seen an overflow of these "Assos" coming out of the woodwork.
Saturday, on Mongo's fast day, it was "on" from the get go. I had to dispatch of at least five pretenders before I got to my biggest and final challenge...which happened to be a legit, tri-geek on an Orbea. With ten miles to go, he passed me at about 25 mph when I was recovering from my last smackdown. I thought for a second about not chasing, but I couldn't let him go.
It was touch and go most of the way, with both of us going back and forth. Mongo won't draft a TT bike if he's not drafting me. It's sort of an unwritten code I have even though I love to draft. Instead, I'll do my left quarter panel position where I'm not in the slipstream but I'm still close enough that he sees me almost next to him. It can be unnerving for the person being chased.
I had nothing left with about a mile to go so I had to make a decision. Either roll in together, or make a final breakaway. I chose to attack. I backed off, shifted gears, got out of the saddle, and took off. I did the final 500 metres at close to 30 mph and took it by about ten seconds.
Let's hope all this good mojo and training will yield some positive results tonight.