I know what you're thinking...cartoon hottie with a RIDUNKULOUSLY hot body in a red sassifrass dress that made Roger's eyes bulge out of his head when she slowwwly waltzed by him? Yeah, not where I'm going with this.
Please note: I got a SLAMMING new bike (Tags: McQueen, Jamis Team, built for Jess).
For the past few bike rides, Scott picked a couple-a suckers from the group as designated "rabbits" (aka: lures for the team to chase). I happen to be one of them. We all take turns on the lead, totaling 3 races in a row. Looking back on the morning, I can calmly comprehend the fact that it makes the "rabbit" stronger by trying to hold off the pack and forces the team to work together to hunt down the rabbit. But when I was in the moment? Here's how it went down in Jessica Rabbit's head: all of my teammates lined up like freshly-branded bulls while I had 5 seconds to get away. Scott opened the gates and unleashed those animals on me. AND NOW I'M A RED RABBIT. And those bulls see nothing else in front of them but my red tush. I pedaled out of the fear of God instilled in me at that point. Half-way up Harlem Hill, MY eyes were bulging out of MY head--pushed my legs as hard as possible to avoid getting pierced by defeat at the finish line.
I felt the hot air streaming from someone's nostrils behind me, so I glanced back and therrrrrre shheee waaas--RIGHT on my wheel just WAITing to make her move. AAHHH--My legs wouldn't move any faster! As I neared the final bend before the finish line, Maria jumped out of saddle and took the crown (insert a few silly curse words here).
By the time I got home, I was entirely depleted of adrenaline and my legs felt like they were filled with bags of steam. What's a girl to do? I promptly spread out on my back on my living room floor (full cycling uniform on and helmet impressions still visible) and did not move for roughly 45 minutes while my brain caught up with what just happened.
It's time to grab the bull by the horns and work hill repeats...
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