I promised on Flatman's blog the other day that I would tell at least one of my gastronomic cycling stories... but as I was cleaning up in the tub today, my mind wandered over to the gastronomic incidences that occured before Ironman Wisconsin. I think, though, that I'll begin with the more normal incident, since the other story is more than a bit visual. (to say the least)
Back in Minnesota, I used to ride with the Twin Cities Bicycle Club. It was great riding with them because they had multiple rides all over town most days. There was a ride on Monday nights that met somewhere near my parents house heading east towards the Wisconsin border.
At the time, the office was in transition before leaving for Colorado and I was working out of my bosses house in the far Northern suburbs heading towards St. Cloud... this inevitably didn't leave me much time to race across town for the Monday evening ride. Not having much money on me this specific day, I decided to be smart and stop at the McDonald's closest to the ride.
Two dollars and some odd change later, I was the proud owner of two 99cent Spicy McChicken sandwiches. MMMMMMM. For some reason, I completely wolfed both of them down in the course of about a mile. I also need to mention that this was one of the first truly hot days of the spring.
I got to the ride as they were getting ready to pull out and quickly raced to get my bike assembled (I didn't own a rack at the time and so my bike fit easily into my back seat if the wheels were off) and my cleats on. I still didn't make it before they left the parking lot, so I immediately had to sprint out of the parking lot to catch them. I caught them and everything seemed fine for a while... the problem was that it was early in the season and I was riding a bit past my ability. When your heart rate goes up, systems start shutting down like your stomach and all of a sudden I had one giant McRock sitting in my now unhappy stomach.
For some reason I didn't spew, but I did proceed to bonk in ways unimaginable to me prior to this event. I slowed down as I watched the other riders pedal off into the distance and unmounted my steed. Standing in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere, I clutched my stomach and waited for my heart to slow down. I also tried to sip some water.
It took a few minutes, but my body started to get back to normal and function again. I think I actually only came in about five minutes after everyone else, but I will never down a McChicken, let alone a spicy McChicken before a ride again. Wisdom comes with age (or experience) I guess.
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