Flahute

"The type of rider who wins races where 125 riders start and one finishes—that’s a Flahute.

A Flahute thinks the Tour de France is just a bunch of long training rides. A real race is one where it’s pouring rain, it’s cold, the roads are treacherous, and the prize list is about the same as your 8-year-old neighbor’s allowance. When you’re a Flahute, that’s racing."

OK so I don't race but the point is the same.

Rolled out of bed this morning and listened to the wind howl. Thought to myself, it's blowing at 30 mph plus out there; there is no way that this would be a good day for a training ride. The wife calls from work and tells me one of the big trees at the corner is down, blown over in the storm last night. The TV is reporting flood warnings and how thousands are without power. Looks like a good day to spend inside, maybe ride rollers and spend the rest of the morning drinking too much coffee.

But no, at 8:15 the first text arrives: Flahute training ride today. No, it can't be...has Wangpig even looked outside? I try to tell him the wind is coming out of the west at 30 plus, but to no avail.

We roll out at a little after 9:30 for a 2 hour sufferfest into the wind. Legs feel good at the start but the bike feels off. Two hours of trying to figure it out, hill after hill into the wind.

Finally, we are at Wangpig's house readjusting the headset because I am starting to notice some nasty shudder every time I brake. Wow, you're getting another flat; it feels like you only have about 30 psi in this tire. Then and only then it dawns on me, I switched rims the other night and when I remounted the tire I never inflated it all the way, just enough to make sure I had not pinched the tube!