"That day, for no paticular reason, I decided to go for a little run."

These were the immortal words of Forrest Gump in the movie from 1994.  I saw this movie at an 11pm showing in Orlando, FL after my mother told me "you have to go see it!".  As funny as it sounds, this is still one of my favorite movies of all time.  Even funnier, this is exactly how I felt last Sunday morning.

As you read my last post, I was more than a little disillusioned with my training.  I decided I would try to salvage my week with a "free ride" (no structured intervals).  My wife asked me how long I would be gone, to which I replied, "One hour if I feel bad, two if i feel good."  As I pulled away from the house, I noticed I didn't feel too bad, which was suprising since I'd only worked 60 hrs in the last 5 days.

So I put in my tunes (Widespread Panic) and headed toward Driggs on the bike path.  After 20 min, things were feeling pretty good, so I made the turn toward the Tetons for a long gradual false-flat I sometimes use for intervals.  As things were feeling pretty good at this point, I decided I'd just cruise up to Alta at the base of the Tetons.

Once I got to Alta, things started to get interesting.  Just past Alta is the climb to Grand Targhee Ski Resort; probably 5 miles and about 2000' of elevation.  I rode through Alta and onto the climb, telling myself I'd just turn around at the first switchback and head home.

At the switchback, I was really starting to feel good...scary kinda good...good I haven't felt in years, kinda good.  So I decided I go up to the lookout.

At the lookout, I figured I had gone this far, I just go up to the third switchback...

Then, for no paticular reason, I rode all the way to the top.  And I don't mean like grinding along, suffering like a dog.  I mean riding with a rhythm, with purpose.  Breathing in, and breathing out.  Cruising.

Once I turned around, I realized I would only have 45 min. to get back to the house to catch the final stage of the Tour.  So I bombed the decent...white line to yellow line and back again...full tuck...laughing hysterically.

Once back on the valley floor, I wondered if I was being spoiled by some sort of mysterious tailwind.  I was turning over a 48-14 (cross gears) again with this crazy rhythm, breathing in, breathing out.  Passing the flagposts in Driggs, they sat still, barely a flutter to them.

I motored all the way back to Victor, up the false flat to my turn and finally sat up to stretch my legs and cool down.  I was a little late catching the Tour.

I rode for 2hr and 52min at an average heart rate of 142 and maxed out at 167.

If it weren't for wanting some family time at home...I might have ridden clear to the ocean.