There are few more pleasurable things than a 5:00 bike ride in mid to late May. Last night the Venge called and I answered. Ten miles into the ride I was warmed up and ready to climb the ‘mountain’ we call Campton. Basically it’s nothing more than a glacial moraine. That’s a fancy way of describing a pile of gravel dumped by the Ice Age 10,000 years ago and since covered over with dirt, trees and houses.

It’s all we’ve got for climbing. Ascending from the south involves a slow gradual hill over half a mile. Then the road turns right up a Strava segment that tops out at 12% grade. But only for about 40 feet. No Alpe du Huez.

And I rode well, but not as fast as last year at this time. On 5/24 I rode that hill a full ten seconds faster than this year.

Then came the descent, and I flew down. Yet I missed the PR on Strava by one second.

So I’m still second best to myself on both the uphill and the downhill. So there’s work to do. It simply isn’t good enough to be second best inside your own head. Can’t have that. I go up an age group this year. There are triathlons to race. Second best won’t do.

Not for a second.