Century Training in the Heat Nobody Warns You About

long ride saturday. hundred miles. sun like punishment. two bottles wasn't enough. legs cramped mile eighty-six. finished anyway. stupidity or discipline. cyclists can't tell the difference. road safety includes knowing when your pride is a hazard. strava segment hunters buzzed past on carbon while i maintained a line for sanity not leaderboard glory. the road shoulder disappeared where the budget did. i noted it for the advocacy email i will write tonight instead of stretching like a responsible athlete. the last ten miles were mental math about water, shade, and whether pride is worth a cramp. a driver waved apologetically after a close pass and i could not tell if that helped. legs burned on the dismount. the bike clicked happily like it had opinions. recovery drink tasted like chalk and victory.

Long ride Saturday. A hundred miles. Sun like punishment. Two bottles was not enough. Legs cramped at mile eighty-six. I finished anyway.

Stupidity or discipline. Cyclists cannot always tell the difference.

Endurance sports romanticize suffering. The road does not care about your narrative. Heat exhaustion is not character building. It is physiology winning an argument you should have ended earlier.

I am training for a fondo. I am also learning limits that Strava does not score. Road safety includes knowing when pride becomes a hazard to yourself and the driver who has to swerve around your wobble.

I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.

The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.

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