For the past two weeks, Magnus the Maximus has been my drill Sargent. I don’t mean just as a training mentor. But a physical I’m-here-to-pound-you, I-like-nails-for-breakfast, who’s-your-uncle type drill instructor.

Fortunately for me, I thrive on this type of training! We’re both just as thick-headed as the other and equally enjoy the self-inflicted pain. The raw energy drove the beginning of our rides until we began slaughtering one another. So we’d push it until we ended up communicating through nothing more than variable grunts. Grunts that had different tones, pitches, and volumes to indicate how we felt or which way to go.

The training has been great and I think we both successfully accomplished what we wanted to get done. For the sargent, it was getting back on top of his training for Roubaix. For me, it was working on being a force to reckon with when the times comes.

**Editor’s Note: Meatball and Maggy will get to continue their pain training this week when they head north to Belgium for “Cobble Camp” and Roubaix prep.**