I'd read and laughed about it before starting the trip, but I never thought it would actually happen, particularly as it's down to not eating enough, three words that I've never had to use other than at free buffets (but then, it's never enough). I am of course talking about bonking . Yes, it's also an euphemism for the art of human congress, I know, but let's be mature about this and please don't make me have to moderate the comments section, I don't want to be that guy. The day started pretty well, all things considered: I was cycling into a head wind and it was up and downhill for the first 50km, but nothing unmanageable. As luck would have it, Chile is undergoing something of an Indian Summer at the moment, with 80 year records being broken only 60km north of where I started. I'd had a fairly good breakfast and half of my (by now staple) ham, cheese and avocado roll by the 30th kilometre or so, but when I stopped for lunch around kilometre 50 it was 35 degrees and I couldn't stomach more than the other half of my roll, a banana and a nectarine, so I left the other roll tucked in my pannier and cycled off into the searing heat.
Twenty minutes later it was like I was cycling through treacle. I actually stopped twice because I was convinced that one of the tyres was flat or the mudguards or brake shoes had been bumped and were rubbing against the wheel. Then I thought it was the wind, but the leaves on the trees were't even moving. By the time I realised what was happening I definitely couldn't stomach another roll, so I forced down a couple of handfuls of scroggin and waited five minutes, but to no avail. It was surreal, my legs didn't feel tired (at least no more tired than they had done for the last 3 hours) and I wasn't in any pain, but I just couldn't put any force down on the pedals. To make matters worse, I was crossing something of a mountain range at the time, and although the first 10km had been in the flat valley, the rest were decidely uphill. I would have struggled to cycle up its entirety while fresh, so yesterday it was impossible and I had to walk up. Every now and then I would try and pedal in the hope that I had recovered, but I could never manage more than 250 metres.
Fortunately the last 4km too, were decidedly downhill. It was meandering downhill, sadly, so I still couldn't determine my terminal velocity, but I did inch tantalising close to the coveted 65km/h after reaching 62.7km/h. Gravity, it would seem, is as forgiving to cyclists as it is cruel.
Twenty minutes later it was like I was cycling through treacle. I actually stopped twice because I was convinced that one of the tyres was flat or the mudguards or brake shoes had been bumped and were rubbing against the wheel. Then I thought it was the wind, but the leaves on the trees were't even moving. By the time I realised what was happening I definitely couldn't stomach another roll, so I forced down a couple of handfuls of scroggin and waited five minutes, but to no avail. It was surreal, my legs didn't feel tired (at least no more tired than they had done for the last 3 hours) and I wasn't in any pain, but I just couldn't put any force down on the pedals. To make matters worse, I was crossing something of a mountain range at the time, and although the first 10km had been in the flat valley, the rest were decidely uphill. I would have struggled to cycle up its entirety while fresh, so yesterday it was impossible and I had to walk up. Every now and then I would try and pedal in the hope that I had recovered, but I could never manage more than 250 metres.
Fortunately the last 4km too, were decidedly downhill. It was meandering downhill, sadly, so I still couldn't determine my terminal velocity, but I did inch tantalising close to the coveted 65km/h after reaching 62.7km/h. Gravity, it would seem, is as forgiving to cyclists as it is cruel.
Why not using plain English: low sugar levels!!!
ReplyDeleteHaving to consult Wikipedia to discover thant bonking is not what happened in the bank here, is not funny at all!!!