Riding with the Devil
No, not Didi "The Devil" Senfft. Our prolonged heatwave has continued and Thursday night was another workout to sweat through.
Riding in the late evening is not bad. Temperatures start to drop a little and provide some relief. Still, there was more than enough heat to remind you of the infernal flames of Hades. Only adding to heat was the three, eight minute intervals that were on the agenda. Each one was to be executed above my threshold. I would be hammering along, only to look down and see the powermeter poking me in the ass with its pitchfork by showing a small drop in wattage. Ouch! Pedal harder! Don't let the devil catch you!
I survived the first interval and it was time to recover for a few minutes. This recovery period did not lessen the hellish imagery. In fact, it became more apparent as I slowed down and could look around.
To the south were cumulonimbus clouds billowing high, trying to formulate a storm. I turned left onto the B Road to head back toward the start of another interval and the scene became more bizarre.
I'm no Bible scholar but what I saw reminded me of a quote that I have always liked for it's imagery, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...". The only difference being that I was riding, not walking. But, I could imagine the valley of death looking similar.
A minute up the road, a farmer's combine was on my left rumbling through the field, kicking a large cloud of dirt that spread across the land. On my right, next to the road, was harvested crop land that a farmer was burning. More than a handful of areas were on fire, clouding the skies with their own smoke in competition with the duststorm across the road. The flames had scorched half the field and the remaining sections of dry crop were popping and snapping loudly as the flames consumed the tinder.
It really was a hellish scene, only to be repeated a couple more times, as cycling's Beelzebub chased me around southern Illinois.
Riding in the late evening is not bad. Temperatures start to drop a little and provide some relief. Still, there was more than enough heat to remind you of the infernal flames of Hades. Only adding to heat was the three, eight minute intervals that were on the agenda. Each one was to be executed above my threshold. I would be hammering along, only to look down and see the powermeter poking me in the ass with its pitchfork by showing a small drop in wattage. Ouch! Pedal harder! Don't let the devil catch you!
I survived the first interval and it was time to recover for a few minutes. This recovery period did not lessen the hellish imagery. In fact, it became more apparent as I slowed down and could look around.
To the south were cumulonimbus clouds billowing high, trying to formulate a storm. I turned left onto the B Road to head back toward the start of another interval and the scene became more bizarre.
I'm no Bible scholar but what I saw reminded me of a quote that I have always liked for it's imagery, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...". The only difference being that I was riding, not walking. But, I could imagine the valley of death looking similar.
A minute up the road, a farmer's combine was on my left rumbling through the field, kicking a large cloud of dirt that spread across the land. On my right, next to the road, was harvested crop land that a farmer was burning. More than a handful of areas were on fire, clouding the skies with their own smoke in competition with the duststorm across the road. The flames had scorched half the field and the remaining sections of dry crop were popping and snapping loudly as the flames consumed the tinder.
It really was a hellish scene, only to be repeated a couple more times, as cycling's Beelzebub chased me around southern Illinois.
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