No Juice on the Shootout

I first realized how destroyed my legs were from yesterday when I stopped to take a pee before we got out of town.  There was a medium sized group of 70-80 this morning, and I pulled off to the side of the road to relieve myself before we got to the last stop light, which marks the start of the race.  I got stuck at a light, and had to push 350-400 watts for a couple minutes while I chased the pack down.  I got there just in time too, right as they got to the last light.  But those two minutes sucked.  My legs had no juice in them.  Like a big lemon that has just been squeezed and nothing else will come out and you think, “Really?  That’s all the juice that’s in there?  A lemon that big only has 3 tablespoons of juice?  I’m never shopping at Safeway again.  What a rip off.”  But then later in the week you end up going back to Safeway because it’s just too convenient, even though the produce is garbage and their lemons have very little juice, just like my legs today.

I took a couple pulls in the beginning of the ride, then dropped back in the middle to suck wheels after I realized I was going to be worthless today.  A break of 2 guys got away, and stayed away.  Near the top of the hill after the bridge, I began pulling again, and somehow still managed 4th up the final hill 20 minutes later.  Maybe the rest of the guys just let me go because they were tired of riding behind someone who’s worn out bibs left too little to the imagination.  Or maybe my little spurt of energy was coaxed out by the memory of a comment I received early from one of the guys.  

Him: “That there looks like a traveling bike.”  
Me: “Huh?  Me?”  
Him: “Yeah, a touring bike. Seen some miles hasn’t it?”
Me: “You will suffer dire consequences for those words. I swear I will avenge my bike’s honor. It may be today, tomorrow, ten years from now while you’re asleep in bed. But mark my words, I will have my vengeance and you and all those you love will pay for what you have said today.”

6th place. I showed him.