Looking out the window this afternoon in our rented perch on the side of the Alberes mountains, the sun is reaching towards us, making it almost to Ortaffa, with the shoreline of the Med stretching north of Argeles fully sunny. The Canigou is shrouded completely in cloud and my intention, as I descended into the valley at 30mph was to ride to the sun.
What is it that determines one's mind? That makes a person roll out of bed at 6:30 and cycle for hours in misty gloom? Whatever it is, it makes me turn left at Brouilla, heading into a stiff wind. When I reach the main road from Perpignan to Le Boulou, a similiar resolution crystalizes: why not ride up to the Col de Llauro today? So, I turn towards Fourques, following the intimate road through vineyards and forest.
I feel guilty today. Sunday's race went badly and I ended up spending only an hour on the bike on a day I normally spend four or five hours on the bike. After a week of low volume, high intensity days, I should be rejuvenated. Instead my legs ache and I feel like I'm coming down with something. The cure? A climb. Is this punishment for my lapse? Perhaps it's A kind of hairshirt to atone for my sins.
The traffic is light today. Cyclists
have been enduring lots of tourist traffic lately as school districts around France take turns sending their students on holidays. It's about 3pm as I turn into Fourques. Some older folks are talking outside a boulangerie and watch me approach in slow motion on the steep grade in town. Smiles and I hear an 'allez' as I roll past. There is definitely a generation gap among cycling fans; over 60 and you see them paying attention to passing cyclists, under 40 and we seem to be more of a nuisance. Karl and Johann, my two cycling prodigies, get lots of looks from les vieux on the beach promenade. Karl on his racing bike, getting out of the saddle; Johann right behind or right in front, smiling away, a manifestation of the joy we all feel riding our bikes.
What is it that determines one's mind? That makes a person roll out of bed at 6:30 and cycle for hours in misty gloom? Whatever it is, it makes me turn left at Brouilla, heading into a stiff wind. When I reach the main road from Perpignan to Le Boulou, a similiar resolution crystalizes: why not ride up to the Col de Llauro today? So, I turn towards Fourques, following the intimate road through vineyards and forest.
I feel guilty today. Sunday's race went badly and I ended up spending only an hour on the bike on a day I normally spend four or five hours on the bike. After a week of low volume, high intensity days, I should be rejuvenated. Instead my legs ache and I feel like I'm coming down with something. The cure? A climb. Is this punishment for my lapse? Perhaps it's A kind of hairshirt to atone for my sins.
The traffic is light today. Cyclists
have been enduring lots of tourist traffic lately as school districts around France take turns sending their students on holidays. It's about 3pm as I turn into Fourques. Some older folks are talking outside a boulangerie and watch me approach in slow motion on the steep grade in town. Smiles and I hear an 'allez' as I roll past. There is definitely a generation gap among cycling fans; over 60 and you see them paying attention to passing cyclists, under 40 and we seem to be more of a nuisance. Karl and Johann, my two cycling prodigies, get lots of looks from les vieux on the beach promenade. Karl on his racing bike, getting out of the saddle; Johann right behind or right in front, smiling away, a manifestation of the joy we all feel riding our bikes.
The climb itself to the Col de Llauro isn't extreme, about an 8% grade, sometimes more, sometimes less, for about 6k. The reward is a long view of the valley stretching to the Alberes and a snug road lined with cork trees.
During the descent and return with the wind on my left cheek, I realize my legs are feeling pretty good, the crap from the previous day rinsed clean and I take the hairshirt off. But maybe I'll add that little climb to Montesquieu...
1:52, 28.4, 1580ft
During the descent and return with the wind on my left cheek, I realize my legs are feeling pretty good, the crap from the previous day rinsed clean and I take the hairshirt off. But maybe I'll add that little climb to Montesquieu...
1:52, 28.4, 1580ft
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment