Second attempt at the annual sufferfest social today. I got swept up by descending riders short of the Mount Seymour summit, but I chose much needed rest and Coke instead of letting my pride get the better of me. For those of you counting at home, that's Mt. Seymour: 2, Hung: 0. In more uplifting news, I did manage to finish the other four climbs, even if the last one up Cypress was at a snail's pace. The slog up to Powerlines has never felt so demoralizing.
I'm pretty sure I was the butt end of a few jokes for carrying a musette bag full of food (I hate stuffed/saggy jersey pockets, especially since one pocket is constantly occupied by my camera), but constantly reaching into my Marry Poppins sack of snacks was probably what kept me going. With the day's heat, I couldn't stand the thought of trying to chew and digest bars or other solid food, so gels and chews kept the motor running. The good news is that this ride was a good test ground for my nutrition needs for next weekend's Gran Fondo Leavenworth, as well as proof that my legs are okay with this kind of mileage/elevation.
The cloudless sky and unrelenting heat allowed me to experience a whole new level of suck. Time to go stuff my face with everything in my fridge.