I had taken five weeks off from riding my bike to travel some and indulge in other forms of adventure, but I was back. Slowly my legs were awakening from their slumber and my lungs were clearing out the cobwebs.
Later that week I found myself on the Saturday group ride last in line up the final ascent of the day. It was not a long day, nor a particularly difficult one, but nonetheless those five weeks were enough for my fitness to slip.
As I drafted off of Ross’ wheel for the last 7 miles I eventually rolled up beside him and asked…
Do you remember that blog post I talked about a while ago about the surfers who rode their bikes down the California coast in hopes of experiencing a whole new California?
Well, their slogan for that trip was “Slow is Fast,” and I feel like that applies to me today, ya know, since I’m having to take it slow.
Ross just smiled and offered up this bit of wisdom…
Aw yes, and slow is good.
I let that last line roll around for a while in my head and even repeated it to myself as I pedaled up my driveway, “slow is good.”
I normally obsess over my time splits and the maximum speed I achieve during every ride, but rarely focus on my minimum speed. Faster, faster, fasterrrrrrr, but never slower.
That next week, another group ride, different people.
We opted for a route that had us pedaling up a gradual climb before a steep summit that cut right through the heart of Steinbeck’s “Pastures of Heaven” My friend Tyler and I brought up the rear as we shared stories and wisdom with one another. About midway into the Pastures of Heaven, I looked at Tyler and couldn’t help but express jubilation over the beauty that is central California.
I mean look at this, we have cows grazing on our right, and horses in pastures on our left. Not to mention that the hills are covered in greenery, the sun’s out, and I’m wearing shorts and a short sleeve jersey in early February.
It would’ve been a shame to miss that experience. Slow is good.