The FTP won't let me be

It's fitting that the intro to The Wattage Cottage should be about the FTP test. For those wondering why a file sharing acronym is embedded in a cycling blog, let me explain. FTP or functional threshold power is a test I know very little about other than the taste of roasted lung it leaves in my mouth. Basically you get on your bike and go Full Throttle on Pedals for 20 minutes. After which you're left absolutely exhausted, collapsed on your top tube or in a ditch beside the road. I do them outside; time moves faster when you're outside - that's a fact!

The results are then decrypted by someone who knows more about them, after which, I'm told that I'm still just barely above average. This despite putting in 10hr weeks for 6 weeks since the last Fuck The Power test.

Some explanation around bass training, guitars and fishing is some consolation and that a mega improvement will come next time. This is not my first Fire The Person who made me do this test and my body has adjusted to it. It knows exactly what's happening and has developed strategic ploys to get me to quit this shit. The most common is a simple stitch in the abdomen that comes in around the 5 minute mark and then divers gut-wrenching pain until it miraculously disappears at 19m25.

The more elaborate tactics are a sudden shower of sweat that's funnelled directly into my retinas, rendering me temporarily blind and a hazard to traffic, parked traffic, wildlife and moms pushing prams. When it fails in these areas it heads for the legs. I don't know what lactic acid looks like but I have a good feeling it looks like a strip of blitz firelighters. The match is struck and the blitz lights up into a blazing inferno of a quadricep. Get through 20 minutes of this and your body rewards you with a teaspoon of endorphins and tipper truck load of fuck you that lasts the rest of the day.

For the record: 254W FTP @65kg.