La Vuelta de Chinchón!

The past few days have featured well over 200 kilometers of riding in the countryside around Madrid. It has been great to string a few days together, and now that I am a little tired, I have decided to lounge the day away on my birthday in the city. I will try to get some reading in, and meet Megcita for lunch after her class. Yesterday, I gathered the ambition to ride what I have called "La Vuelta de Chinchón." Basically, a return trip to a pretty little hilltop town with a great Plaza Mayor about 55 kilometers south of Madrid. It features about 8kms of "exit riding," sort of like heading out of Vancouver through Richmond, which is followed by 20kms of great "cyclists only" calletera to San Martín de la Vega, and then from there a few rural roads that take you up to Chinchón via some fairly challenging hills (for us clydesdales at any rate!) but with nice views of the surrounding countryside. I had made a pretty good push up to the town (made it in leass than 2 hours!) so I decided I would stay a bit, enjoy the free time at my disposal, and read while enjoying a snack outside one of the tabernas. A great idea. It was sunny but not too warm, and really relaxing. I could have stayed for hours. As I headed back out towards home, I was looking forward to the cruise back into Madrid which for the most part is downhill or flat. You see, the ride to Chinchón is supposed to be the challenge, and the ride back a bit of an endurance builder, however, yesterday I soon realised that there was a murderous head wind blowing right into my face. The next 20-25kms were a real grind. The flats became hills. In fact, they were worse than the hills. Trucks that blew past weren't even making a dent in the wind. It reminded me of the day Meg and I encoutered a true French Mistral going from Lagrasse to Carcassonne. A little 40km valley ride that turned into a gruelling test of endurance and fortitude (not to mention our relationship)! By the time I reached San Martín de la Vega I was begging for mercey and luckily my favourite little cafe was open and served me up a rejuvenating "cafe con leche." I don't think I would have made it home without it! Sitting in that cafe, with all the old dudes smokin' their brains out, is pretty funny, but it seems to be where a lot of the "cyclismos" congregate on the weekends, so it has become a favourite of mine as well. I arrived home very beat, but very happy! I can only hope that my "VO2 Max" has taken a "Lance Armstrong-like" quantum leap!