When I woke up, I knew I was in trouble. I had promised Henrik a 100 mile ride today and I was not in the right condition. The weather had been poor the previous week, so I had trained short. I was in sleep deficit by six hours over the past four days. I had slacked off my diet, eating bon-bons and fried calamari. Today would require peak performance and I was nowhere near my peak.

The warmup was easy, straight downwind with a 16mph tail. Holding an even 20mph pace was effortless. Fifteen miles into the ride, we made a u-turn at Las Olas and turned north, directly into the wind. A pace of 18mph into a wind of 16mph was a 34mph gentle breeze in the face. Hunkering into a compact profile, hiding between the condo towers swirling the blustery weather, we made our way mile by mile. It was just head down, holding cadence until mile 46.

That’s when my knee began a dull throb. I call it tennis elbow, but point to my knee. The pain makes you want to stop, but when you slack the pressure, the pain becomes worse, and we will had 54 miles to go. Our turn into the nose of the wind would last until mile 62.

I was looking forward to the West Palm Beach inlet turnaround. The wind, which had been our foe, would now become our friend. The 18mph pace had been slow and grueling. One mile short, Henrik spotted a pair of riders already traveling south. A week earlier, they had pulled Henrik up to Jupiter inlet. “If we can make the turn and come back to catch them, they can help us,” Henrik shouted to me. He was hammer down and I, behind, had no choice but to grit my teeth and go with.

We caught the pair, but they were on a Saturday recovery ride and in no mood to pick up the pace. Our efforts had moved us down the road, but we were on our own again and 40 miles from home. My legs hurt, my butt hurt, my knee hurt. It did not matter, I was still 40 miles from home.

At mile 85, the blustery skies opened up and it started pouring rain. Our agreement to seek shelter in the event of a storm was abandoned. We were too far along and only 15 miles to go. My glasses were spattered with rain drops and mud. The road grime on my jersey was melting away, the rear wheel throwing water and debris up from the backside. One hundred miles came none too soon. All I could think of was getting a hot shower.

Being a manager, often, the going gets tough. You have decisions to make, problems to work through, material shortages, work delays. Fitness, in my mind, is one of the six dimensions of performance. It has an impact on how well you perform, as a manager. How is your nutrition, how well do you sleep, how consistent is your training (yes, managers need to train)? When the going gets tough and peak performance is required, how close are you to your peak? -TF