When I reach the foot of a hill I lose my mind. Rather than sensibly pacing myself, my heart fills with an impatient determination to conquer the molehill as quickly as possible. Shouting “CHARGE … HUZZAH!” I attack at top speed.
Unfortunately this ‘tactic’ rarely works and I’m soon chuffing like a steam train and fighting both my brain telling me I’ve overcooked it and the sensation of lactic acid searing a hole though the seat of my bib shorts.
I’d like to say I’m more of a sprinter than a climber but that would be like saying I’m more of a potato than a cabbage. I’m neither, just a hasty and heedless cyclist without the common sense to slow down. Huzzah!