I'd Rather be Riding

I'm supposed to be on my way to meet up with my team mates for some motor pacing today.  Instead I'm sitting here with my chest full of phlegm, a low grade fever, and a splitting headache from coughing all night and not being able to sleep.  There must be another Fred somewhere in Portland who is waging biological warfare on me.  If my suspicions are correct, the perp is a Cat 4/5 man of racing age 45-50, looking to eliminate some competition.  I was supposed to ride the Dirty Circles Road Race tomorrow, the last in the series.  I should be winning that race as it's a flat sprinters course.  It's very difficult to shake riders off of the pack without any hills.  The only trouble is that I seem to be prone to getting boxed in on sprints.  In any event, my Fredly ambitions are imperiled by this illness as I sit here, strength and fitness from months of training oozing from my body as I endure rib cracking cough attacks.  I wonder if there is a training benefit to rib cracking cough attacks?

Meanwhile, I received two copies of Bicycling magazine in the mail yesterday; the March issue and the 2013 Buyers guide.  The March issue promises to teach me how to hit my ideal riding weight as well as a faster way to get faster.  That means that the April issue will have nothing left to talk about, except perhaps to reveal the true meaning of life, once and for all.  Also, reading Bicycling cultivated in my a deep and powerful need for a pair of hand-made in Italy, carbon fiber and kangaroo leather cycling shoes.

Normally, 45-50 year old heterosexual family men do not feel the need for anything that is hand-made in Italy unless it is red, has 4 wheels, 12 cylinders, and a prancing horse emblem on it. But then there is the 45-50 year old heterosexual FRED. These creatures, it turns out, can be just as nutty as any woman with a shoe problem. It would be easy for me to think that I am unusual in this regard, except my cycling passion has led me to join a team and to enter local bicycle races. Doing so is good for me because it helps keep things in perspective. When it comes to gear fetish, I'm mid-pack at best, as evidenced by the deep dish carbon wheels present at the early season races this year. And you can bet that I enjoyed every minute of my mockery of all of those dorks who showed up with those wheels even as I lusted after them. And, after all, 500 dollar shoes are a lot ore attainable than 500,000 dollar red cars with prancing horse emblems.