Well, I was yesterday, anyway. My resting pulse rate when I woke up was 49. That's the first time I've cracked the 40s -- that I know about anyway, since I don't measure every day. Usually I'm in the low 50s, with occasional forays over 55 that correspond to days I'm scheduled to rest anyway.
I told my family and said I was approaching Lance Armstrong territory here. Then MacBoy decided to be a smart-aleck and said to watch out I didn't turn into Lance and soon I'd have no balls. I pointed out I already have no balls and he said: There you go.
I don't think it's that easy to be a world class cyclist.
Anyway, I'm off for my long bike ride of the week. I'm taking my car into servicing in Milpitas and then biking from there to part-way up Mount Hamilton. It's my attempt to duplicate the Ironman Arizona course, which is very flat with a small 500 ft. rise before you turn around. My rise is going to be more than 500 ft. but not as much as if I went all the way to the top.
If I do it right, I'm going to do the loop twice, going faster the second time. If I do it wrong, I'll run out of time and will only be able to do it once.