It costs little-to-nothing to host (as long as you already have the right pieces).
So, here's the idea...
Viewing Parties + Indoor Training
I like to watch...
You know someone with a spacious family room or garage. Or, you know a bike shop with TVs. Or a coffee shop. The "where" doesn't really matter.
Host viewing parties for Flanders (April 1) and Roubaix (April 8).
All you need is a place to set up trainers, a large tv, and loud sound. (You need to compensate for the spinning, grunting, and trash talking).
Charge a small fee to participate ($15-$20). Proceeds to your favorite charity.
Don't need much more than a place to gather, watch, and sweat.
Just think of the possibilities!
You could bake and sell cobble cakes.
You could sell themed coffee.
You could treat the training like a drinking game. (You know, every time Phil, Bob, or Paul mention "Lance Armstrong", you sprint. Or, every time they ignore the race in favor of some preconceived, pre-packaged exposition about someone's great aunt tilly, you sprint. Really, the workout script writes itself.)
An alternative is to simply have a BYOBreakfast viewing party, but that's so...NFL!
The Accidental Runner ran Monday. The Accidental Runner blew up his calf Moanday. The Accidental Runner is depressed.
Sigh.
Today, my best friends are the three "I's": ice, ibuprofen, and elevation (Ok, so it's two "I's" and "e". Sue me.)
This sucks.
It was to have been an hour+ run. The usual kinks worked themselves out over the first mile or two. Everything then loosened up and felt good. I opened my stride and picked up some speed—nothing Bolt-like, rather comfortably middle-aged. I felt good.
Decision Point
At the 30-minute mark I faced a decision: turn back (the shorter route) or keep on (a longer, more challenging route). I felt good. Not great, strong, and indestructible, but good.
I chose the longer route.
Getting home in time to make an appointment would be a challenge, but if I focused on technique, I knew I could do it.
Each stride mattered. My mission: mindful running. My feet fell into stride with a steady legato rhythm—this was not a stacatto day. Hips forward, limbs loose, I was feeling the groove.
Then, something...uncomfortable.
My right calf tightened. Then it tightened some more. It felt like someone was winching a catapult cable...in my leg.
One might have described it as a cramp. But I never cramp, which told me bad things were happening.
Something wicked this way comes...
I ran. Most kinks work themselves out with a little time and attention. I compensated, adjusting my technique as best I could, looking for that happy stride that would loosen the tension.
The pain continued.
No pop. No rip. No tear. No shocking sensations. Just...tightness. And pain.
And so I continued, for another mile. I continued until my entire calf was rigid with seizure.
Then, I gave up.
I borrowed a cell phone, called in the evacuation helicopter, and limped up the street to the extraction point.
BCB and the LAs rescued me. Pouring sweat, clenching teeth, I plopped down in the passenger seat, thankful it was over.
I. I. E.
We had no ibuprofen in the house. But we had ice. The eldest LA made a bag the size of my head that I desperately applied to my calf, within the wrap of an enormous hockey sock (sometimes being a pack rat has its benefits). Ice. Bliss.
The remainder of the day was spent in a cycle of ice and compression—managing swelling and encouraging blood flow.
"Vitamin I" acquired, I paired it with a half-dose of naproxin. More ice, then heat. Flush the area. Apply compression.
Swimming in the Nile
Tuesday morning, back to work, limping all the way to the office. Leg up on desk. Calf resting on a huge bag of ice.
Ouch.
Go to the gym to test things out. The good news? I can sit on a spin bike and pedal. I can't pull, and I certainly cannot climb. But I can spin and get up a sweat.
George, self-appointed spin class master—the Statler and Waldorf of the National Capital YMCA—declared: "Achilles!"
My medical crew...geniuses...the lot of 'em!
"No," I replied.
"Yes," he insisted.
So began the great debate.
Personal trainers, tri-athletes, and casual stoppers-by all got into the conversational act.
The summation? I should see a doctor to make sure that I didn't do any damage to the Achilles tendon. The pain and the swelling was centered on my calf just above the point where the tendon meets muscle. Rupturing my Achilles would be bad...like three+ months in a cast bad.
Paranoid and pained, I left the gym more freaked out than when I arrived.
Reluctant, but Needful
Ice. Ibu. Elevation. The cycle continued.
I made a pact with BCB. If it didn't feel significantly better in the morning, I would see my doctor.
It didn't feel better in the morning.
THIS is where I DON'T want to be...
I got an appointment early in the morning. My GP, Dr. Julie, poked and prodded, examined my bruising, and declared a muscle tear. How severe? Any impact to Achilles? What to do next? She referred me to an ortho and gave me a script for an ultrasound—to see if they could see anything.
Ultrasound showed...nothing conclusive. Not pregnant. (Not the best test to see—that would have been an MRI—but insurance protocols rule the day, and I'm sure the ultrasound is less expensive than the big, clanking tube of death.)
Off to the ortho. He poked and prodded. He stretched (holy-sweet-mother that hurt). He declared several opinions: a ruptured Plantaris; a low-grade tear of the Soleus; and no compromise to the Achilles.
So, the good news is that I have no reason to expect my achilles to rupture and roll up into my leg like a cheap window shade.
If the injury is a ruptured Plantaris, no worries. I didn't need it anyway. According to Gray's Anatomy, "This muscle is sometimes double, and at other times wanting." Apparently roughly 10% of the population doesn't have one (mutants!). And the treatment would be the same as a low-grade tear to the Soleus: rest, ice, Vitamin I until the swelling goes down. Then light stretching, ice (or heat), and more Vitamin I.
Ten days to two weeks to recover to 70%.
Poopity poop poop pooper.
Counting My Blessings, One Chip at a Time
I left the doctor and dutifully acquired a bag of kettle-cooked, mesquite-flavored potato chips. And a "party size" (whoo hoo!) bag of organic blue corn tortilla chips (one nasty binge balanced nicely by one moderately healthy binge).
Mesquite consumed, I let myself feel sorry for myself for a few hours.
Why? My training for my next three events is set back. It's a big blow. I have Pelotonia in less than three weeks. I race in Nation's Tri in less than six weeks. Half-full in eight weeks.
How the hell am I going to run a half-marathon in eight weeks?
To hell with the "Poopity poop poop pooper." nonsense. It's "SHITE!" time!
So, here I sit, riding the bus. I'm on my way to work. I'm down. I know it could be worse. I know it could have been a disaster.
But I'm lacking perspective.
Hopefully I'll learn from this. I'm still looking for the lesson.
So, there you are, enjoying time with the family—in my case BCB and the LAs at the outlaws' homestead in northern Long Island.
But your bike is at home.
What do you do?
You're jonesing for exercise!
What do you do?
You run
Poppa Don't Like Running
My 9-year old says it best: "Daddy, I just can't picture you running."
Neither can I.
Running hurts. At least it does for me. When I see runners—real runners—I marvel at their effortless glide across the tarmac.
When I run, I plod. And my heels hurt. And my back hurts. And my neck hurts.
OUCH!
Post-run I am Indiana Jones:
Indy: "Ouch!" Marion: "Well god-damnit Indy, Where doesn't it hurt?" Indy: "Here!" (points to his eyebrow)
I admire runners, but I never desired to run.
Until now.
I Am an Accidental Runner
I run because I must—but not in the same way that I must ride (driven by a deep, abiding passion). I must run because I aspire.
I aspire to be a triathlete. I want to dive into the multisport waters and thrive—not drown. So, I must run.
Regarding running, I have one strength—my cardio capacity. Years of cycling has tuned my engine, so that "short" efforts of less than three hours are (dare I write this?) easy. Yes, they're still work, but I am certainly capable of staying in zone 3 for a looooong time.
Which makes running even more frustrating.
Imagine having a Mustang engine in a 1992 Hyundai's body. You wanna go-go-go, but you can only creak-creak-squeak along.
Sigh
Revelation
I work four blocks away from the White House. For runners, DC doesn't suck. You have the Mall and the monuments, and at lunchtime there are hundreds of runners out getting their mid-day sweat on.
This spring I went out for one of these lunchtime jaunts with two lads from my gym—Bassline Scott and Rob the Sadist.
Scott is a pleasant fellow—all bonhomie and pleasant wit. He's an experienced triathlete, a new father, and an accomplished bassist. He's steady, ready, and able.
Rob expects—no, demands!—that you
suffer during his classes.
Rob is a nasty piece of work. He leads the Friday noon spin class and delights in hurting others. He's also a lawyer. He dearly and passionately loves suffering in others and seeks out opportunities to inflict pain.
You can see where this is going.
I had mentioned to Rob some of my frustrations with swimming. I (actually) asked him for some coaching! And as we started our lunchtime run we chatted about it.
Then he hit me with a smackdown that still has me reeling.
As we ran, he looked me down-and-up. And in the a most devastatingly dismissive manner said: "I see we need to talk about your running technique as well."
Zing!
So, he turned the firehose on me and hit me with a ton of information.
Heel strike - OUT!
Long, forward stride - OUT!
Weak abs - OUT! OUT! OUT!
Rolled shoulders - OUT!
Floppy feet!
Relaxed arms!
Posture, posture, posture!
Crikey!
Analysis, Paralysis
I drank from the firehose...and nearly drowned.
I had to stop running. So much unassimilated information ran through my head that I forgot how to move...literally.
I had been tumbling along, and when I looked at my feet, they were alien. They were someone else's. I had no idea how they had gotten there or what they were doing.
I froze.
I took a minute. I re-set my head. I focused on my breathing. I started again.
Grunting, I reach over and slap it. Silent, again.
"I don't want to," I think to myself.
"Un-huh," I respond.
And so it begins—a ten minute conversation, a debate, really. Spirited. Passionate. All with my eyes closed.
Should I Stay, or Should I Go?
It's Thursday morning—bike commute day. It's the one day each week that logistics are not a barrier to riding. Normally I vegetate (or write this blog) on a commuter bus (like right now). But Thursdays are glorious!
It's such an opportunity! Decent mileage (~25 miles each way), varied terrain, a plethora of cyclist-assault vehicles (read: traffic). What's not to like?
Well, a lot, actually. Especially on this morning.
I'm tired.
And the pillow feels good.
And the ceiling fan is bathing me with luscious, cool air.
And my pillow really feels good.
And it's 0454 in the morning!
And it's already 80 degrees with 90% humidity!
...And the debate continues.
Schizophrenic?
Doesn't everyone talk to themselves—silently? Don't we all have inner dialogues?
I do—constantly. Hell, you're reading a manifestation of that habit. Who's the audience for this blog? Seriously, for whom do I write?
0458..the debate continues...
I need sleep. I need a workout. I haven't slept well in two days. I had two days of low-or-no workout—I missed my normal Two-a-Day Tuesday (I only led spin class) and I completely missed running Wednesday (it was 100 degrees in DC).
Sleep? Workout. Sleep. Workout! SLEEP! Workout.
0500, My feet hit the floor. I enter the bathroom. I pull on socks. I start to pull on bibs. I knock on Mother Nature's door. She answers.
As I sit there, eyes closed, swaying from fatigue, the debate continues.
Sleep. Dress. Sleeeeeep. Dress!
And it hits me: the moment of clarity; the why.
Like a beam of sunlight, the answer is revealed. The decision? So obvious, so clear, so absolute that the entire process now seems a farce—an exercise in cliché.
It's time to ride.
Why?
Because if I don't, I will be so pissed off at myself that I will be an insufferable bastard all day!
And no one...no one! Especially me!...will want to be anywhere near my smoldering glower, my feral snarl, or my vicious bite.
And if I ride, I may suffer, I may pant and wheeze and groan and complain. But come the shining of the sun and the bustle of my urban morning, I'll be happy.
So that's why I ride.
Epilogue
Friday morning.
0515...The alarm blares.
Grunting, I reach over and slap it. Silent, again.
On August 20, 2011, I will be riding with thousands of others in Pelotonia 2011.
Last year I was a top 20 finisher, completing the course in less than five hours.
This year I want to do better. My goals, for now, remain mine. I'm not yet ready to share them!
I've ridden a lot this spring. Tuesdays I lead my spin class and then have my local group ride—two high-intensity workouts in a day. My Thursday commute into DC gives me a solid 50+ miles, of varying intensity and anxiety. Heavy on the anxiety. (All the near-misses are getting to me.)
I've also been triathlon training. Swim and run workouts fill the gaps (and make me tired).
But I haven't been building volume.
Getting Miles into My Legs
Hairless! Hooray!
I miss my long rides.
This is the time of year when honeysuckle and other early-summer flowers sweeten the air. It's a time for re-connection—with myself and with nature. It's a time for leg shaving and chamois cream. It's riding time!
I have the short stuff wired. I can ride in the pack, take long pulls, and have something in the tank for the sprint finish. As long as we're done in less than two hours.
So, it's time to get the miles into the legs. Not the high-intensity miles I will do in late July and early August—filled with hill repeats and sprint intervals. Nope. Now is the time for the five-to-six hour rides that build foundation.
It was a pleasant start. Atmosphere was cool and moist, but not rainy. The overnight sheen remained on many of the roads. Deer and groundhogs everywhere. Birds singing. Nice.
I was riding solo. Nice.
I had a few issues. Between miles 42 and 45 I was shagged. I topped off my fuel and got my spirit back. Same again at mile 62. I need to be more conscious of my eating!
As I came into the home stretch, I put in a hard effort (as is my tradition). It felt good. I felt the power from my entire leg—bone deep.
Going deep is deeply satisfying. (I know, that was lame...but how else would you describe it?) It triggers hard-to acquire endorphins. It reminds you of how much work you have done. It inspires you to do more. It's truly a hard place to get to, but if you can get there, it's powerful juju.
Tomorrow you will glide through the water like dolphins, splashing and cavorting with joy!
Tomorrow you will roll across the countryside like bullet trains, surging over hills and dales—powerful, awesome.
Tomorrow you will stride across well-trod pathways, blazing your own trail to your personal victory.
Your will is strong. You are the masters of your minds and bodies.
Envision your ideal race. Take the time to close your eyes. Make perfect pictures of your perfect moments. String them together. Press "Play". This is your filmstrip. This is your vision. Use it. And make it real.
Tomorrow you race. It's your race. It's your gift to you. Be generous. Be grateful. And in the end, you'll be:
It was 40, not 70, but someone
out there had this image!
During last weekend's four-hour ride, I was hit with rain. At hour two.
Yep, nearly 40 miles of wet wetness was in front of me (to the side of me, on top of me, you get the idea). Occasional wind gusts greeted me too. I liked when they were behind me, but that didn't happen too often.
I know, it's not about me...it's about you!
I realized that we never talked about riding in the rain. It's different from riding in the dry.
Silly, that, but true.
Think about it, if it rains, you get wet. It's not like it will much effect your swim. And it won't much effect your run. But it will effect your ride.
Here are a few things for you to think about and remember.
Double Your Braking Distance
So, I Google image search for
"double distance". This appears.
It made me laugh.
When you first touch your brakes it will feel like nothing is happening. This is scary, if you are approaching a Stop sign or coming down a hill (or better still, approaching a Stop sign at the bottom of a descent).
The reason for this behavior is that the brake pads act as "windshield wipers" first, before they can apply the friction you need to slow or stop. When your brakes first come into contact with the smooth aluminum of your rim's braking surface, they sweep away the water. That's why it doesn't feel like they are doing anything!
Then, when they engage, you still won't have the "normal" braking sensations. The water acts as a lubricant, so you need to make sure that you give yourself some extra room to slow.
A final factor is that the pavement is also slick. You don't want to lock up your wheels and skid. If you do, remember the next rule: Keep the Rubber Side Down.
Keep the Rubber Side Down
This would be bad...I repeat BAD...
in the rain.
It's not just a good idea for bed pads and mental health facilities. Look at your tires. Remember that you are riding on a half-inch of width, with less than two square inches total contact with the road.
That's not a lot of forgiveness on a good day. Add rain, and it's something else altogether.
Remember to stay upright. Keep the bike from leaning into turns (as much as possible). you will not be able to completely "not lean", but be cautious. Once the weight shifts, if you slip, you're down. Faster than you can think.
The good news is that if it is wet, skidding on your hip doesn't hurt half as much as it does when it is dry (not that I would know...)
Get Your Behind Behind the Behind
This is NOT proper uphill form.
His behind is in front of the behind
Rain = wet = slick.
Going uphill, those rules still apply.
When you get out of the saddle on a climb, your tendency is to shift your weight forward, mashing down on the pedals. If you do this in the rain, you will spin your wheel...literally.
The result could be...nothing. Nothing but wasted effort. Or, the results could be you falling on your behind.
You need to keep the weight over the rear wheel, so you need to get your behind (your buttocks) behind the centerpoint of your bike. Think of getting behind your bike's behind. Thus you are getting behind the behind.
If your weight is back, you can grind up the steepest hills (if you need to) without spinning out. That is a good thing.
A Final Thought
Remember that most people will be uncomfortable riding in the rain. Be aware of your surroundings and the people around you. Communicate LOUDLY, because any surprises could cause someone to twitch the wrong way, with painful results.
And finally, remember that the beginning of the rainstorm is the slickest time on the roads. The oil and other fluids that drip from the cars will film up first, before washing away. If you are on the ride and it starts raining, be mindful!
You all will do great! Hopefully it won't rain. But if it does, you'll be prepared! And you won't look like this yahoo:
This will NOT happen to you!
(This image has no real place here. Except that I thought this
post needed to end with a little humor and, well...)
Here's some quick advice on tapering prior to IronGirl.
Tapering means that you take it very easy the week before the race. You will not lose any cardio fitness if you "rest" for 5 days.
The trick is to manage your eating while tapering. The week before the race eat "clean". Only eat foods you are familiar with, and avoid chips and other crap that directly destroy performance. No red meat or fried foods. Fruit, vegetable, fish, chicken, whole grains, yoghurt.
My suggestion is that you do a final, hard workout Saturday or Sunday prior. Then, on Tuesday, do something light and fun for one hour. Ride the bike without hard climbs. Jog without pushing. If you can mix these with an easy swim (for a total of 60 minutes of activity) that's even better. Stretch well. Really well. Take the time to know your tight, problem areas. The purpose of this is to let the muscles work without damaging them, while elevating your heart rate into zone 2 (effort should be such that you can chat with a training partner without gasping for breath).
Then, on Friday, do something again. Even less strenuous. The purpose here is to make sure everything is loose and perform a "system check up". Anything hurt? Anything tight? Now is the time to address it. Again, stretching is important, as is "getting into yourself".
I believe that the taper week is critical for two reasons. First, it let's your body heal and restore itself, so that you are as near to 100% as possible for the event. Second, it enables you to get your headspace right. Take the time during the week, and during those light workouts, to focus on what you've learned and what the race will be.
Visualize. Focus on one key to each leg (swim, bike, run) and master it...inside. And make it positive.
It should NOT be: "don't do X".
It SHOULD be: "finish strong over hill Y".
Specific. Positive. Visual.
Don't make it general, like "keep a high cadence". Better would be "keep a high cadence up highland road".
Make it so real that you can taste, smell, and sense it. The result is that when you are in the event you already have the memory of success. It works.
Ice
If it's a brutally hot day, consider placing a long, ice-filled sock (or stocking) down the back of your jersey. Leave it in a cooler in the transition area along with some iced drinks.
Driver's license, health insurance card, credit card, $20
If you get into real trouble, you'll need these things. If not originals, make a copy of them and place the paper into a Ziploc. Carry in your jersey/top.
In Your Bag
You are responsible for your own ride support. Translation; if you flat, you have problems—like a flat—you need to handle it! So, make sure you have the following in your bag:
Tire Levers (Do NOT use anything metal, you will destroy things!)
Tube(s)
Patch Kit
Pump (or C02 cartridges...if CO2, have the inflation trigger!)
Multi tool (something like this...don't buy anything more complex until you know how to use the tools on it!)
Money (to bribe race officials...)
In Your Belly
Eat 2-3 hours beforehand. Eat a mix of protein, simple carbohydrates (sugars), and complex carbohydrates (steel cut oatmeal, whole grain rice, quinoa), and some caffeine. Protein is long-lasting, helps fill you, and provides mental clarity. Simple carbohydrates give you the immediate fuel that your rampant, raging pre-race anxiety needs, so you don't get the shakes. Complex carbohydrates give you the long-burn energy you need to get you through the start of the race. Caffeine makes you poop.
My perfect pre-event meal:
1 egg
1 cup steel-cut oatmeal (the long-cooking kind)
2 squares dark chocolate
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground chimayo or chipotle chile
Mix entire contents in a a bowl and heat in microwave. Add 1 splash of milk or 1 tablespoon plain yogurt to texture and taste. Enjoy with a cup of green tea or coffee.
This is what I call a "yucky-yummie" meal. It looks like crap, but it tastes divine!
During the race make sure that you top-off your fuel. 45 minutes of activity eliminates your blood glycogen levels. Considering the activity happening immediately pre-swim (unless you are well-focused your heart rate will be in Zone 2 just from nerves), you will probably exhaust this blood-fuel reserve when you complete the swim.
We all tolerate foods differently. Experiment with gels, energy drinks, and real foods. I have different strategies for different days, depending on how I feel and what my goals are.
For example, pre-collarbone I was training for the Columbia Tri. I tolerate almond butter or peanut butter (1/2 sandwiches) really well. I planned to have one ready at T1, shoving it in my mouth as I got to my transition for the bike, chewing and swallowing as I dressed and moved through T1. I also planned to have a few gels in my jersey, to let me stay fueled as I approached the run.
Manage your hydration. If you can (prior to the race), weigh yourself before a hard workout in the heat. The idea is to see how quickly your body cools (via perspiration) in the heat. When you workout, remember how much you drank. Then weigh yourself immediately after the workout (before re-hydrating, and after urinating, if you have the inclination).
The weight change, minus the weight of water you drank (one bottle = ~1 pound) will be your lost water weight. If you lose 1-2 pounds it is not a big deal. If you are losing more, you need to drink more.
I was hurting. I was 5 bottles down. I needed to drink 3-4 more bottles that day.
If you notice, had I drunk one bottle every half-hour (for a total of eight bottles), I would have managed myself very well.
What kind of sweater are you? →
Now, there are a lot of factors that affect the results. If I had filled one of Amy's sexie fishnet stockings with ice and thrust it down my, er...shirt, it would have helped me cool (and thus not sweat so much). If I had soaked my hair beforehand, it would have helped, but not as much as it would help you chicas, since you have more hair that I do. Again, I recommend a cooler at T1 and T2 with cold bottles available for dumping over yourself. It will help cool you (and it will help overheat all the males spectators...nothing quite like soaking wet hotties to get the blood flowing!)
Kim had a great point when she said that she didn't want to have the feeling of water sloshing around in her belly during the run. There are a few solutions to this. One is to sip water every few minutes. Don't gulp down mouthfuls. Again, everyone has different tolerances for this sort of thing. Another solution is to try to front-load your drinking. Make sure any volume is consumed early. There is risk here, especially if you are a heavy sweater. You will still need to sip.
Regardless of how you manage it, if it is a hot day you will need to drink during the run. I don't know of an elegant way to grab a cup at a water station and drink it on the run. When I watch the pros, they grab the cups and throw the liquid in the general direction of their faces. Inelegant, but at least some of it gets down their throats!
I'm sure some of the husbands would be happy to practice this technique...
In Your Head
This is Amy's race, Kay's race, Kim's race, and Val's race. It's not Amy, Kay, Kim, and Val's race. Do you spot the difference?
You need to stay within yourself. You each have strengths and weaknesses. You each have likes and dislikes. Decide before the race what you are planning to do, and do it. Don't make decisions on the fly (unless it is at the very end, during the run), because your brain will be overloaded. During the race you need to focus on you and your plan. There will be a ton of distractions.
Don't place yourself in this position:
Or this one:
Make a race plan. For example (again, and will he please stop relating everything to himself?), my plan for Columbia was this: survive the swim, rock the ride, relax the run.
Hunh?
Survive the swim meant that I would get from point A to point B, eventually. I would place absolutely no stress on myself whatsoever. I am coming off shoulder surgery, so its not like I was going to get all Mark Spitz on everyone. Rock the bike meant that I planned to go balls out on the bike leg. I was seriously looking for a top 10 placement in my age group for that leg. Relax the run meant that I would flow with the run and let whatever happened happen. I am not generally a strong runner, but if I find a rhythm, I can motor. I would let myself relax and see what happened.
Make a plan and stick to it. Don't get creative yet (you need more experience for that). The caveat is that if you are on the run and feeling good, go for it. You're at the end, so let 'er rip!
Place yourself in this position (~1:30 in):
On Your Bike
We talked about a lot during our ride last Saturday. As a reminder, you were on terrain very similar to what you will experience during the race. The profile (over there, on the right) should give you some context regarding the hills.
You did this! →
Saturday you all rode more than 15 miles. Val had the privilege of riding a little more. You all are capable of completing the ride comfortably--not just complete it, but ride it with some authority.
Pedal Stroke: Most athletic endeavors involve head games. Cycling is no different. A good pedal stroke is a round pedal stroke. Don't just pound the pedals downward. You all have clipless (click-in) pedals for a reason: they enable you to pull up.
And a good pedal stroke uses more than your legs. Your glutes, lower back. And lower abs need to work as well. For a really solid, powerful stroke, make sure that you engage your abs by drawing your bellybutton to your spine. That tension provides a lever, supporting your lower body.
I couldn't resist (audio only):
Here are a few mental tricks to get a decent stroke:
Scrape the dog poop off your soles. This will get you focusing on pulling across the bottom and up, using your hamstrings.
Knees to your boobs. Focus on your knee movement, bringing your kneecaps up to your chest. This will engage your hip flexors, removing focus from quadriceps and hamstrings (while maintaining a round stroke)
Powerful pistons. Imagine that your legs are chugging and down like a machine. The fulcrum is your arse. This gets your buttocks working. You are the Captain of the Enterprise, command your butt to "engage".
Cadence: I won't be there in person, but I will be there in spirit. If you drop to a slow cadence, below 90rpm, you are taxing your muscles too much. Ypu are pushing along rather than spinning along. If you do this I will sneak up through your competition-addled mind and scream "cadence!"
It is far more efficient to spin than to power.
Positions: Move around on the saddle, a little forward here and a little forward there. Get out of the saddle on occasion—even when you don't need that power. .
Shifting positions let's you engage different muscles and relieved numbtush (that's a technical term for when your Bliss-kissed zones get numb from the seat).
Breathing: Deep, belly breathing will help you regulate your energy and power. This is especially true during hard efforts. Use your diaphragm like a bellows to suck the air into your engine and then purge it completely.
You can't breathe that way the whole ride, but you can use it to manage yourself.
Gearing: In the front, the big chainring is harder than the little chainring.
In the rear, the big cog is easier than the little cog.
Practice shifting blindly, frequently. You want to get to the point where you don't even think about the direction of your shifting. Take the time on a ride to just shift.
You'll realize a lot of benefit, quickly.
Shifting: Remember: it's not about the gear you're in, it's about the gear you need to be in.
Always think ahead. If you're approaching a corner or a stop sign, downshift (make it easier) beforehand so that you are already in the proper gear when you get going again.
It's the same thing on a hill, going up or down. Shift early and often. Don't ever be in the situation where you can't turn the pedals over—because you are in too hard a gear. Making your chain pop, clank, or grind is worse than bad form, you can do real damage to your bike and (in worse case) strand yourself.
Flats: When riding on relatively flat ground focus on breathing, rhythm, and roundness. This is your chance to relieve muscles. Find a comfortable zone and CRANK!
Downhill: When the warm embrace of gravity is upon you, and you find yourself accelerating to uncomfortable speeds, you still need to pedal.
Hunh?
Thin of yourself as an engine, powering the bike. If you shot off the engine, it takes work to get it started again. Similarly, you should keep pedaling (soft pedaling) when going downhill**. You do not need to be in a high cadence, just keep the legs working. it will maintain your heart rate, making it easier for you to resume effort. (You will need to be in a bigger gear to support this.)
**Of course, the exception is when you are going too fast to pedal. I don't know if any of you will achieve this, since with your gearing you won't get there until you are at more than 37 mph. If you do get to this point, you want to tuck down out of the wind and make yourself invisible. Then, when you come across the nadir of the hill, start pedaling as soon as you feel the sharp edge of your speed dull—you will know when this happens.
Let's be honest, you need to find your comfort zone with speed. I know that Val has just gone to narrower tires, this will affect her stability. Kim is on a new bike, until you have descended a bunch, you won't know your limits. Patience is good. Panic is not. Have fun with it.
Finally, remember that other people will be all around you. You will overtake and you will get passed. Many of these folks will be as uncomfortable as you are. Communication is key. If you are about to pass (and you will!), you need to SHOUT "On Your Left!"
Between the mental focus and the wind noise, you really need to shout it out. They will appreciate it.
Uphill: You do not conquer hills, you manage them.
That hill was there before you were born, and it will be there for many, many years to come. Riding hills is almost entirely mental.
Mentally, you need to focus inward, not outward. Go deep. Breathe deep. Listen to your heart. Feel your legs. With increased effort the deep, deep muscles close to the bone awaken. Feel the blood flow there. Right when you think you're done, drive deeper and focus inside.
She's gone deep to go steep! →
Climbing hills is all about you. It's not about the hill. Like the 20-mile barrier for a marathoner, a hill will teach you something about yourself. Let yourself listen.
That said, there are a few techniques that can help.
Spin it out: It is far more efficient to sit and spin up a hill. It's what the pros do. When you get out of the saddle, you are powering up a climb. It's fine to do it, but it is not sustainable.
Here's an analogy. When you start your ride you have a book of matches. Every time you power up, you burn a match. Sometimes you burn several at one time—going white hot for a few seconds. The problem is that you only have one book of matches. If you run out, you're done.
You only have so many matches. Use them wisely. →
Don't be "The Man' in To Build a Fire. Keep your matches dry, and use them wisely.
Right gear, before you need it. You need to think ahead. There are two ways to go: harder, or easier. What you do depends on the hill and on you.
The worst thing you can do is to start up a hill, decelerating, and get to the point where you HAVE TO SHIFT while slowly grinding, placing a lot of torque on the pedals. When you shift in this situation, you will hear an unwholesome pow, ping, or crack. You may be fine. Or, you may damage something. You might lose the chain. Avoid these situations. Shift early and often.
If you plan to stay in the saddle and carry momentum up the hill, you need to downshift (make it easier) just as you feel your speed diminish ("the sharp edge dulls"). If you are in the big front chainring, an easy technique is to downshift into the smaller front chainring. You may spin a but, so you may need to adjust your rear shift, but you will have placed yourself in a position to continue your roll.
If you plan to stand and power up, burning some matches on the early part of the hill, or if it is a small roller, upshift (go harder) 1-2 gears AS YOU GET OUT OF THE SADDLE. When you stomp on the pedals, you are applying significant force, quickly. You need the gear to be harder so that the value of your effort is not lost.
It should be a smooth motion. Just as you are rising out of the seat to stroke with your dominant leg, upshift. You can then downshift after a few strokes to maintain a comfortable cadence.
Remember: it's not about the gear you're in, it's about the gear you need to be in.
Tawking: You are not out there on your own. be considerate of your fellow racers. You might save someone a trip to the hospital.
When slowing shout: "SLOW!"
When stopping shout: "STOP!" (it's not very complicated...)
If there is a car approaching from the front, shout "CAR UP!"
If there is a car approaching from the front, shout "CAR BACK!"
If you are passing, shout "ON YOUR LEFT" (and only pass on the left)
If you are suffering, shout "ARRRRRUUURRRRGHHHHH!"
When you get that endorphin rush, shout incoherently.
You do need to shout. No one can hear you otherwise. Consider it primal scream therapy.
And when it is good, remember that the kids aren't in the next room. Go ahead and let it rip, bang the headboards, and yell "OH! MY! GOD!
It works.
Enjoy the event, my chicas! I know you will be fabulous!
My heart rate monitor? In the bedroom, and it is always better to let sleeping brides lie...
So I went out with a simple goal: ride hills. Do repeats. And don't give a damn about the data. I committed to a four hour ride, picked a general direction, and let the spirit move me.
The morning was hung over from Saturday's heat and humidity. When it's 80+ degrees at 0600, you know you're living a verse from Gimme Swelter...
Distance: 64.88 miles Time: ~4:00 Ascent: 3684 feet Average Speed: ~16.2 mph
It's a one-hour ride from my house to the top of Bonnie Branch Road, at the center of the hilly excitement in Ellicott City. When I started down its steady descent, I planned to ride Ilchester three times and then move over to the center of town, riding Oella and Westchester before...whatever.
She's .8 mile long. She's got an 18% grade. The annual Highway to Heaven Hill Climb Time Trial rolls up her. She's a touchstone, a reference point, a challenge, and an ambition.
So why not ride her thrice?
Sensations
I have no idea what my cadence was. I don't know my speed. All I know is that it hurt. I tried while sitting. Meh. So the second time I tried to ride her while standing (even though I knew there was absolutely no chance to make the entire length out of the saddle). The third time I intentionally rode a mix, but I wasn't completely happy with my "sensations". I lacked Contador's tranquilo, so as I came down Bonnie Branch the third time, I decided to give her one more go.
The fourth time was a charm. It may not have been the fastest, but it felt the best—a fair balance between achievement and suffering.
Satisfied, I rolled down River Road to the old part of Ellicott City to try my legs on Oella and Westchester. Three more serious climbs and I headed home.
One Hour in Hell
I started back at the three hour mark. I hadn't eaten—I did bring an almond butter sandwich, but my stomach wasn't interested. I had already consumed three bottles, and I knew that I needed more water. Trusting in serendipity, I headed home, hoping for some refreshment along the way.
This is See-wious! →
I've had better plans.
Each time I thought I might be able to stop, something prevented me. The store was closed, the toothful dog was barking...something kept happening.
I was bonking.
Race Road was a blur as I struggled onward. Then, like a hallucination from an Abbott and Costello movie, a Coca-Cola machine appeared.
I've had this brain for [42] years. It hasn't done me any good! →
Never—and I mean never—has a vending machine offered so much hope. Serendipitously, I had singles, dollar bills, greenbacks in my jersey. I was going to survive!
I rolled up to the machine. It was humming and vibrating with the satisfaction of a job well done. It was cooling the precious liquids within its bosom . I would survive!
I unzipped my kit and peeled away two of the moist bills. Would the machine scan wet dollars? I inserted the first bill...but I couldn't! My hand was shaking so, and the dollar was so wet, that it limped from my fingers like overcooked pasta. I tried to straighten and flatten the bill, and with two hands (one bracing the other) I tried again to slot it into the machine.
A cheerful whirr sounded like the music from angel's wings. I slotted in the second dollar. With another whirr and a click, I could make my selection.
What to do, what to get, what to drink? Water? Nah, I wanted value for my $1.25. Soda? Hmmm. I've seen the pros quaff Cokes mid-stage, but how would my tummy tolerate the bubbles? Nestea Iced Tea. Yes! Take the damned plunge! Icy-s sweet high-fructose corn syrup satisfaction in a caramel-colored elixir! Do it! Press the button!
I pressed the Nestea Iced Tea button.
whirr, click
whirr, click
whirr, click
whirr, click
Nothing.
Uh oh.
I pressed again.
whirr, click
whirr, click
whirr, click
whirr, click
Nothing.
A thought echoed in my mind:
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
~ Albert Einstein
Oh. My. God.
Heat reflected off the road and the building, baking me as I stood, forlornly staring at the foul machine's red-and-white face. Its satisfying hum mocked me as I suffered. I thought thoughtful thoughts, pondering and puzzling. "Why didn't it work? I made the whirr, click noises! What's happening...oh, maybe it's empty! Maybe...no more iced tea?"
I closed my eyes and visualized. I pictured a frosty bottle of soda. I envisioned my drinking that soda, and I felt the sting of the bubbles as they washed down my throat. I tasted the cloying caramel candy aftertaste as the syrupy residue lingered on my tongue.
I opened my eyes.
I pressed the Coca Cola button.
I was doe-eyed for a Coke like an anime heroine! →
whirr, click
Please...
whirr, click
Oh, please please, please...
whirr, click, ka-THUNK,
Oh. My. Mercy.
Never—and I mean never—has a soda bottle engendered such joy! I opened it. I drank. I snarfed bubbles through my nose. I was going to survive!
Crisis Averted
I emptied the remainder into one of my water bottles. I could feel the sugar (almost) immediately, and I was able to get rolling home. The soda didn't last but ten minutes, but its effect was incalculable!
The remaining hills felt...good. Vollmerhausen was steady and Murray Hill Road was a manageable bump. Now I get it. The pros drink Coke because...it works!
I rolled up the driveway a little richer and a little wiser. Unplugging occasionally is good, it lets you experience the sport for the sport's sake. And for God's sake, when it's that hot outside, MANAGE YOUR FLUIDS!
Rollin', rollin', rollin' Though the streams are swollen Keep them doggies rollin' Rawhide!
<--You gotta love the Blues Brothers!
So, the snow kept us all inside. No road riding for this boy when there was 30 inches of the white and fluffy outside! And no outside riding while Maryland tried to come to terms with the issue of "what do we do with all this snow?"
The result? A month of spin classes and rollers.
That's a lot of hours on the rollers. Thank god for Sergio Leone.
Until I broke out the Dollars Trilogy, I could do 60 minutes, maximum. With M. Leone's assistance, I was able to increase to 90 minutes. At 90 minutes, however, the complete lack of feeling in my pinkies and ring fingers meant that I had to get off the bike. No amount of in-ride shaking or repositioning would stop the tingly madness.
With fingers like that, Ramó, El Indio, or Tuco would have had me dead to rights...
Nevertheless, when I was riding, I was a happy gerbil. Almost as happy as this lad...
This weekend promises the opportunity of getting out on the road.
I have been working on core and leg power for the past few weeks. This is the current version of my twice-weekly workout.
I use super sets. In other words, I move immediately from one exercise into the next (alternating sets). This serves a few purposes:
Reduces overall time
Maintains heart rate
Insures recovery
Keeps my focus
Throughout the workout I will drink ~3 liters of water and one bottle of Accelerade (I respond well to the protein/carb mix, and it suits my GI).
The Workout
Spin
75 Minute
Torso Rotation
20
Hip Abduction
20
Torso Rotation
20
Hip Abduction
20
Torso Rotation
20
Hip Adduction
20
Yogaball Crunches
20
Hip Adduction
20
Yogaball Crunches
20
Hamstring Curl (each leg)
20
Yogaball Crunches
20
Hamstring Curl (each leg)
20
Yogaball Crunches
20
Hip Abduction
20
Low Abdominal (leg raise)
60
Pushups
20
Low Abdominal (leg raise)
60
Pushups
20
Low Abdominal (leg raise)
To Failure
Pushups
To Failure
Air Squats
20 lbs x 20 count
Back Extension
20
Air Squats
25 lbs x 20 count
Back Extension
20
Air Squats
2 lbs x Failure
Back Extension
20
Pullups (Weight-Assist)
3 sets (-90 lbs x 20)
Step ups (left)
25 lbs x 20
Obliques (right)
10 lbs x 20
Step ups (left)
25 lbs x 20
Obliques (right)
12 lbs x 20
Step ups (left)
25 lbs x Failure
Obliques (right)
12 lbs x 20
Step ups (right)
25 lbs x 20
Obliques (left)
10 lbs x 20
Step ups (right)
25 lbs x 20
Obliques (left)
12 lbs x 20
Step ups (right)
25 lbs x Failure
Obliques (left)
12 lbs x 20
Note that the core work is shaded. There is a lot of it.
I know that no one is reading this far, so i am being completely self-serving. But then, isn't that what a blog is all about?
I will be on this for another two weeks. When I return from a conference (week of March 20th), I will modify my workout plan.
The new plan will be to do this workout on Tuesday, increase the spinning/riding (generally), and retain the core and shoulder (still recovering) work for Thursdays.
