I live near the top of a hill. Not West Van madness, but a 3 minute 300w hill nonetheless. Coming home from a ride, I promise myself I’ll noodle up the hill, as I need the cool down. But then, magically, 1 block ahead of me, Laurent Fignon pops out onto the hill. It might have been Pantani (in the drops of course), but that’s neither here nor there.
So, like any good Canadian kid, I lay it down and reel in Hinault like a badger hunting another badger. Fast forward 2 minutes and there I am, 1 block from home, with a heart rate of 195 (I’m actually more of a gerbil than a badger) and swearing at my self because I didn’t cool down, and I am certainly not going to loop around my block like a chump.
Park the bike and prepare for the pain that comes from failing to cool down (If you ever call it a ‘warm down’ in front me I will mock you) right?