Summer Program Announced - Pressure Rises

Last week my Utrecht group published the program for its annual week in the mountains (where we race each other up the passes), and riding now is no longer about taking advantage of the occasional nice day we get around here. We get to do the Col de la Madeleine, Col du Glandon, Col de la Croix de Fer, Col du Galibier, Mt Ventoux, among others, in six days of riding/racing. Having read the plan, I decided that the time for self-punishment is now, and so on Saturday morning I rode out to Amerongen by myself. Any way you do an Amerongen loop from Nederhorst den Berg, it is a real ride, and if you do it all by yourself it's work. My lower back started to make itself felt even before the Amerongse berg, and on the way home (Ginkelduin, Austerlitz, Maartensdijk) I had to sit up regularly to get some relief. Interestingly, the discomfort went away temporarily after I rode up the Austerlitz "hill." But I was pretty pooped when I got home after almost 71 miles at an 19.2 average (3 hours and 41 minutes). I didn't feel up to the Sunday ride the next morning (and avoided getting rained on by staying home), but did a little loop at the end of the day. I wasn't particularly stressed out, but still yelled at some idiot tourists. They were standing in the middle of the bikepath on the Loenersloot bridge over the Amsterdam Rijnkanaal, and one of them was taking pictures. The other was facing me and could see me coming from at least 100 meters. Normally, he'd warn his friend, and together they'd make enough room for a cyclist to get through (it's a bikepath, after all, and it's nice not to be hit by passing bicycles). This is what I assumed, and it seemed to be confirmed when the photographer started to move out of the way when I got near. But something wasn't quite right in the way he did it (I don't think he ever looked my way, for example), so I slowed down as I prepared to pass through. And wouldn't you know: just as I reached them, the guy started to walk back, totally unaware of my presence. His friend (or should we say: enemy?) obviously had never warned him. I did get through, and as I passed I let out a rather loud, blasphemous "JFC!" I probably scared them, and maybe they were foreign tourists, because Dutch people in these situations know about self-preservation. I guess an "oops" would have been an option too, but the cluelessness I encountered seemed to require something stronger. People don't have to jump out of the way just because someone on a racing bike is approaching. But if you're blocking the bikepath, how about your own safety? I got to focus on something else soon afterward, when on the way to Baambrugge a Smartcar passed me at a slow speed. I rode in its draft for about a mile, doing 32 m/h at one point. I could not see much up ahead because its rear window was blocked, so it wasn't very comfortable, but it certainly kept my mind from lingering at the previous encounter. This morning, getting out of the saddle on the Nescio-bridge, I noticed the legs have not yet fully recovered from Saturday's effort.