Bonk. v. To exercise to the point of exhaustion. To go until your body won’t go anymore.

I was riding over the crest of a hill. Yes, I was in Florida. Three quarters of a mile – up to a mile away, I notice a traffic signal going from yellow to red. This is a signal known to be rather long. I resolve to make the next light. I do some quick math in my head… at twenty miles an hour I should cover a mile in about three minutes. I figure that should put me at the light at just about the right time. There are just two problems with this equation. One, I am in terrible shape. Twenty miles an hour over three minutes represents an all out sprint in my current (woefully out of shape) condition. Two, the last quarter of a mile is an incline (for prospective readers who may be verbally challenged, that’s up hill). One out of shape, thirty-two age male, 30 pounds over his ideal riding weight. One mile. Three minutes. Twenty miles an hour. Almost one minute sprinting up hill. I didn’t need a calculator, I needed a clue.

With about an eight of a mile to go the light turns green. I’ve got a fighting chance to make the light, so I stand up and charge. There’s just one more problem… my legs give out from underneath me and I have to sit back down. Wheezing and slumped over the handlebars, I coast up to the recently turned red light in defeat.

We’ll get ’em next year.