I got back late last night; photos forthcoming. Yesterday on the way back from Santa Rosa we stopped in Freeport and rode this route plus an extra 8 miles near Eglin AFB. First we stopped and asked the sheriff about the roads and he said plenty of people ride them; plus 20 and 331 have shoulders on both sides that are wide enough for cyclists. The other roads without shoulders have little traffic, except for dogs.

Heh. I thought that since I have been primed for hills, that a flat ride would be easy. It was like a road race because there was no chance to stop pedaling for 50 miles. You can't coast since there are no downhills. And my booty didn't like sitting on the saddle that long so every once in a while I would stand up to pedal. What most destroyed my motivation was that the roads appeared (not sure if actual) to constantly be at a slight incline, with no end in sight. Miles and miles of slight incline. When we would reach a turn, I would be excited just to use my bike's steering. An additional source of excitement would be a piece of debris in the bike line. Sad, I know.

So I chased after my maniac companion (he's a solid Cat 3) for 49 miles. Pigged out on Mexican food immediately afterwards then passed out asleep until we reached Birmingham.

I don't know if I would want to ride that again since it was boring, but I learned one valuable thing today. The reason why road races hurt me so badly is because I don't train for them. A good 40-50 mile manic chase without slowing or stopping is the proper training for a road race.