What I did: Began to reduce miles somewhat and add small doses of anaerobic capacity intervals (30 seconds on/30 off, four sets, 5 minutes in between sets) and off-road intervals at Vista View Park, leading into ORAMM. After the race, I did an easy recovery week with no intensity to recharge and prepare for the first week of the Build cycle.
Total miles: 630
Total hours: 56
Weight: 134
FTP: Didn't test (246 previously)
FTP/weight: 4
CP6: Didn't test (283 previously)
CTL: 82
Thoughts from the saddle: I saw a sports nutritionist with Elite Health Centers, something I've wanted to do for a long time. I eat well, but always suspected I wasn't doing enough from that end. Included was blood work and a Vo2max test, which I've never done. I put up a 54 on the test (anything above a 45 in my age bracket is excellent), which everyone there said was the highest they've seen. (I don't think they test cyclists, because I know there's probably several in my area who could probably score 60-plus. I didn't let that evaluation go to my head. Anyway, she said I was, metabolically speaking, 35-years-old, which was good to hear because I turned 50 in July. She also said I wasn't eating enough protein and that my testosterone was too low. So I'm taking some supplements and eating a diet that includes more protein and a touch fewer carbohydrates. I've gained a few pounds, but I'm not going to sweat it if this will help in the long run. I feel a little stronger and it seems like I'm able to bounce back a little quicker from hard workouts. ... The off-road intervals at Vista View Park have been really hard. It's great race prep, short climbs combined with short downhills equal short recoveries. I don't look forward to doing these but they're necessary. ... I've been doing a few fast group rides and I've had mixed success. I've been dropped a couple times and hung for the entire ride on a few others. Again, great race prep, but I need to allow enough recovery afterward. This is where I've gotten off-track in the past.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Zen speed
There's a book called Zen Guitar that offers spiritual wisdom about playing but can be applied to all endeavors. A passage in this little book has always stuck with me.
Know the feeling of power held in reserve.
I wasn't playing guitar on Sunday. I was racing my bike in The Off-Road Assault on Mount Mitchell in North Carolina, but I rode to a powerful rhythm unlike my first race here two years ago.
My time was 47 minutes better than in 2010 at 6 hours, 52 minutes, 9 seconds. I rode my bike up climbs where two years ago I walked; I went downhill faster and with more precision; I exhibited discipline to begin conservatively in order to finish aggressively; I never even entertained a thought about quitting.
Finishing eighth out of 34 in the 50-plus age group and 105th out of 397 finishers is a result I'm proud of after initially being a little disappointed.
Looking at the results near the finish line, I felt a little like Ralphie in A Christmas Story when he gets his theme back, expecting an A-plus.
"C-plus? Oh, no. It can't be.''
Eighth place? Eighth place??
Of course, stripped down, ORAMM is about more than the results sheet. It's having the guts to tackle 63 miles and 11,000 feet of climbing without cracking.
I did crack my frame, though. Maybe it happened on Heartbreak Ridge, a 5 1/2-mile trail also known as Dante's Inferno, where I suffered my only wreck after taking a log-over too fast. Like riding an angry bull, the bike bucked me over the horns and then gored my right forearm with its chainring when it charged me. It was quick, painless and was back in the saddle as quickly as I was thrown. I was smart enough to walk the final drop, also known as the ninth circle of hell.
Few escape ORAMM without sacrificing blood. Or equipment.
Two years ago, my personal hell was the 9-mile Curtis Creek climb. I died and somehow rose again all in the span of that never-ending gravel ascent. This time around?
Hello, beautiful.
I proportioned my effort well, suppressing the urge to begin in my big ring. Toward the end, I was feeling some tightness in my thighs but fortunately the climb was done and the rest stop was in sight.
That might be the best damn rest stop of the whole race, which is more than halfway over at that point. It's a celebration of sorts.
Where I really celebrated, however, was coming out of Kitsuma II and hitting the asphalt for the 3-mile ride to the line. In addition to breaking seven hours, another goal was to ride Kitsuma the second time around without walking. Well, I didn't quite accomplish that -- I had to dismount for a short section of the steep climb in the middle -- but I cleaned the entire climb to the peak. Then I bombed that downhill like my hair was on fire. I completed the trail only two minutes slower (32 minutes) than in my training rides.
As Petty and the Heartbreakers' Drivin' Down to Georgia played in my headphones when I passed the .05 mileage sign, I felt more alive than I have in a long time. To survive ORAMM is one thing. To flourish is another.
I experienced the feeling of power held in reserve.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Ready or not
Some handle poisonous snakes.
Others walk on fire.
For the rest of us, there's ORAMM.
And it's Sunday. Like seeing how long you can hold your hand over a burner, ORAMM is a test of how much pain you can handle. For the very few who will fly up the mountains and careen down them, there will be many more who will enter the hurt locker for the better part of a day.
Despite this fate, ORAMM sold out a long time ago with 500 riders from 27 states entered. That's a lot of rubber in the mountains. When push comes to shove, though, many will be reduced to using their bikes as walkers.
I've been counting down the weeks until this event. I dream it won't be that painful, but as Greg Lemond once said, "It never gets easier: you just go faster.''
At my desk at work, I have a copy of the course profile displayed. I catch myself studying it, replaying moments from my first race two years ago and imagining it going much better this year. I always focus on the ascent on Curtis Creek. I consider myself a climber; I only weight 132 pounds, so going up is where I feel most comfortable. I've never met a climb I didn't like. Until Curtis Creek.
As I've detailed before, for all intents and purposes, I was beaten physically and mentally by this climb. What little self-esteem remaining was stripped on Kitsuma II. My whole focus this year is being better prepared for those two areas. I could lie and say, ''I know I'm ready. Time to kick ass.'' I mean, my markers for power, local course times, RPE and quality of rides indicate I'm in the best shape of my life. I know better. When I get to the halfway point on Curtis Creek, I'll know where I stand. Or fall. And then there's no turning back. I hope.
Despite some struggles in the 2010 race, I benefited from a lot of luck: I had a bad wreck early on and didn't suffer as much as a scratch on me or my bike; I finished about 20 minutes before a bad storm rumbled through; and somebody gave me water on Curtis Creek when I absolutely needed it and seriously thought about quitting before reaching that rest stop.
Can't plan for luck. If it's bad, you're screwed, no matter how fit you are. In the end, I like to think of this as just one giant group ride among friends. No pressure. A lot of fun.
Yeah, right. The competitor in me, a demon I can't control, will rear its ugly head about 24 hours prior. "I need to break 7 hours this year or I'll be disappointed. I can't go out too fast, but if I feel great ...''
Ready or not, off I go into the wilds of western North Carolina, glad I'm not at my desk imaging what ORAMM will feel like.
Others walk on fire.
For the rest of us, there's ORAMM.
And it's Sunday. Like seeing how long you can hold your hand over a burner, ORAMM is a test of how much pain you can handle. For the very few who will fly up the mountains and careen down them, there will be many more who will enter the hurt locker for the better part of a day.
Despite this fate, ORAMM sold out a long time ago with 500 riders from 27 states entered. That's a lot of rubber in the mountains. When push comes to shove, though, many will be reduced to using their bikes as walkers.
I've been counting down the weeks until this event. I dream it won't be that painful, but as Greg Lemond once said, "It never gets easier: you just go faster.''
At my desk at work, I have a copy of the course profile displayed. I catch myself studying it, replaying moments from my first race two years ago and imagining it going much better this year. I always focus on the ascent on Curtis Creek. I consider myself a climber; I only weight 132 pounds, so going up is where I feel most comfortable. I've never met a climb I didn't like. Until Curtis Creek.
As I've detailed before, for all intents and purposes, I was beaten physically and mentally by this climb. What little self-esteem remaining was stripped on Kitsuma II. My whole focus this year is being better prepared for those two areas. I could lie and say, ''I know I'm ready. Time to kick ass.'' I mean, my markers for power, local course times, RPE and quality of rides indicate I'm in the best shape of my life. I know better. When I get to the halfway point on Curtis Creek, I'll know where I stand. Or fall. And then there's no turning back. I hope.
Despite some struggles in the 2010 race, I benefited from a lot of luck: I had a bad wreck early on and didn't suffer as much as a scratch on me or my bike; I finished about 20 minutes before a bad storm rumbled through; and somebody gave me water on Curtis Creek when I absolutely needed it and seriously thought about quitting before reaching that rest stop.
Can't plan for luck. If it's bad, you're screwed, no matter how fit you are. In the end, I like to think of this as just one giant group ride among friends. No pressure. A lot of fun.
Yeah, right. The competitor in me, a demon I can't control, will rear its ugly head about 24 hours prior. "I need to break 7 hours this year or I'll be disappointed. I can't go out too fast, but if I feel great ...''
Ready or not, off I go into the wilds of western North Carolina, glad I'm not at my desk imaging what ORAMM will feel like.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Base 3 Recap (Weeks 1-4)
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: TRYING TO GET MY CLIMBING LEGS. |
Total miles: 657.6
Total hours: 41.5
Weight: 132
FTP: 246
FTP/weight: 4.1
CP6: 283 watts
CTL: 83.2
Thoughts from the saddle: I was really concerned I buried myself deep with fatigue, but I shed it rather quickly and my fitness really improved afterward. I've started adding more protein to my diet to help with recovery and it seems to be working. It's caused me to add three pounds, but it might be the best three pounds I've ever gained. ... One early Saturday morning, I got a flat in Weston, probably less than a mile from SR 84 and the Everglades. I have never been swarmed with the amount and size of mosquitoes as I was then. I must have looked like a nut jumping around, slapping myself silly while trying to change the tube. Fortunately, it was still dark and nobody saw me, though they probably heard me cursing. Those suckers were biting at finishing-sprint-like wattage and popcorn-popping frequency. ... Been turning between 11-14 laps at Vista View, getting in between 1 1/2 to 2 hours climbing, 16 to 21 miles. It's a demanding workout, especially in the heat and humidity but it gets my legs ready for the 11,000 feet of climbing at ORAMM. ... Rode at Markham Park when I could avoid the rains and continued to keep it aerobic riding all the open trails.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Climb, descend, repeat
With only one previous Off-Road Assault on Mount Mitchell in my legs, perhaps I'm not the most qualified to give advice on surviving/conquering this unique challenge.
However, that event two years ago left such an impression, along with a few deep emotional scars, that I still want to pass along 10 tips to "enjoying'' ORAMM on July 22. If you're racing or riding it, I think they'll be useful.
1) Our thing doesn't begin until you reach the nine-mile Curtis Creek climb. Repeat: The starting line might be in Old Fort, but the real beginning is almost 30 miles in. The climb hits you just before the halfway point, and you'll see riders u-turning and quitting before the summit. I damn near did. So, conserve energy currency early and often. The good news is, when you crest it, there's a rest stop and the knowledge you're more than halfway home.
2) That leads me to the official beginning of the race, which is on asphalt for the first seven or so miles. It's uphill some, nothing extreme, but it's easy to burn too many matches. I was told of the importance of getting near the front, and there's some truth to this. But I went above threshold for too long on Old 70, kind of like using your credit card during a last-minute online Christmas shopping craze: It's painless until the bill comes due.
3) Don't be afraid to be a coward. Some of the singletrack is ... how can I say this delicately ... challenging, featuring obstacles seemingly designed to snap your collarbone. And nothing ruins a race quite like hearing the crack of a bone. If it does not fit, you must acquit. Wrong rhyme. I mean, if it looks like it will bust your lip, you must unclip. Especially if you're from Florida. Like me.
4) When you're climbing, you'll wish you were descending. When you're descending, you'll wish you were climbing. Boy, oh boy, what a sage warning this was from a local rider I met in 2010. Climb aerobically and descend conservatively, and I guarantee you'll meet your race goals.
5) Hydrate well, but don't empty a well. Hyponatremia is a life-threatening condition that occurs when you take in too much fluid. In the process of the body eliminating the excess, dangerous amounts of sodium also are washed away. Find out what works for you in training -- flavors, amounts and frequency -- and duplicate it at ORAMM. Don't try anything new July 22. A new finish line salute is OK, though.
6) Carb up on Saturday but don't gorge yourself. Just eat a sensible and fairly balanced meal, but skip dessert and go easy on the salt. Unless you've done a hard pre-ride, and if you did you might as well not even show up the next day, you don't need extra calories. Do you really want to be carrying even one extra pound throughout 11,000 feet of climbing? And no crash dieting the week before or the week of. Actually, what you weigh right now should be your target race weight. Race day breakfast should be what you normally eat for a hard day in the saddle.
7) If you're on the verge of quitting but don't have blood gushing from an open wound or aren't puking from a concussion, hold on until the next rest stop. Chances are, after a short break, sometimes as short as a few minutes, cola or some food and a pep talk from one of the tremendous volunteers, you'll feel better and remount. That comes from personal experience at the Curtis Creek rest stop.
8) Handle the rolling gravel fireroads with utmost care. When you reach these wide-open stretches, it's natural and beneficial to let go of the brakes, catch some easy speed and recover. Stay focused and steer with your body and feather the brakes as necessary. If you go down, you'll feel like you've gotten a massage with a cheese grater. And you won't get a good night's sleep, either.
9) Carry only the basic tools and supplies but do take some cash. You don't need to bring along an auxiliary bike shop in your Camelback and/or seatpack. I guess you could sell extra stuff along the route (at a stiff mark up, of course), but it's not necessary. Me? I run tubeless with Stan's, so the seatpack will have a multi-tool that features an 8mm allen for the cranks and chain tool; and spare Powerlink. I'll also have a Big Air canister. If I need something else to keep me going, it's probably going to be a major repair and my day's done. The money can be used to buy water from campers if you've lost your bottle or neglected to properly fill up at the last rest stop. Happened to me, but the woman I came across who had water generously gave me a bottle on Curtis Creek.
10) After hugging loved ones, seeking medical treatment and/or counseling and a cold beverage, you're ordered to go sit in the creek near the finish line. Like the scene from the beginning of Die Hard, when John McClane is told to "make fists with your toes'' after getting to your destination as a way to survive air travel, taking a soak will bring you back from the abyss.
I'll leave you with this: Nobody who finishes our thing will exclaim, "Man, I could've gone even harder!'' Most, especially the majority who don't finish, will lament, "Man, I went out way too hard.''
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Base 2 Recap (Weeks 5-8)
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: LOOK, MA, NO HANDS! |
What I did: Four weeks of long-steady endurance rides, maxing out at four hours, 70+ miles on Saturdays, twice-weekly 45-60 minute tempo intervals and weekly big-gear rides.
Total miles: 980.4
Total hours: 56
Weight: 129.2 pounds (58 kilos)
FTP: 230 watts
FTP/weight: 4.0
CP6: 283 watts
CTL: 87.9
Thoughts from the saddle: Nearly wore myself out last month trying to stay in my zones and struggled to increase my weekly CTL. In the process, my fitness plateaued. Last week I re-adjusted my FTP from 240 to 230 watts; my zones just felt too hard. Plus I took an extra day off the past two weeks. I don't know if my PowerTap gave me an errant wattage during my last FTP test or what, but something wasn't right during the month. ... I kept my CP6 power the same, opting not to test it in May. ... Only rode twice at Markham because of the weather. We're definitely in the rainy summer pattern. Several of my road rides were in steady rain. ... Started doing a group ride on Sunday, in addition to Saturday; overall, I'm getting a lot of enjoyment and work doing them. ... I did a faster group ride on May 12. That was a mistake. I was not ready and got dropped along State Road 27, my personal graveyard. I didn't have great legs when I got up that morning and I just wasn't prepared for the surging. I demonstrated really good steady state power, though. Thinking about trying it again in June, but these fast rides might be difficult until I start doing high-intensity intervals in a couple of months. ... Entering Base 3, which means longer lactate threshold intervals. Think I'm ready for them. As I noted, my steady-state power is really good and I'm more than ready to extend my time at threshold. ... Also planning on doing a weekly off-road climbing session at Vista View Park to add a little variety to my training and get my legs prepped for ORAMM in July. ... Speaking of ORAMM, the Old Fort Chamber of Commerce, located where the race begins and ends, contacted me about getting permission to use a photo of me from the race in 2010. It's using it on the chamber website http://www.oldfort.org/ and is considering putting it on a billboard along I-40 before the race. Knew I'd be famous one day.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Base 2 Recap (Weeks 1-4)
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: IF I SEE MY SHADOW BEFORE MAY, THAT MEANS 12 MORE WEEKS OF BASE. |
What I did: Four weeks of long-steady endurance rides, maxing out at four hours, 70+ miles on Saturdays, twice-weekly 30-45 minute tempo intervals and weekly big-gear force rep intervals.
Total miles: 971.3
Total hours: 58
Weight: 129.8 pounds (58.6 kilos)
FTP: 240 watts
FTP/weight: 4.1
CP6: 283 watts
CTL: 81.7
Unknown species of lizards (not an iguana) escorted across a busy road: 1
Thoughts from the saddle: I absolutely killed my FTP test. I increased my threshold power by 6.1 percent (from 226 to 240 watts). That's my largest one-month increase ever. In the overall scope of things, this number doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot, especially in the world of racing mountain bikes. What it does mean, unequivocally, is I'm definitely doing something very right in training. ... My FTP power-to-weight has never been higher; anything 4 or above is a goal each season. Hey, let's go higher. ... I also haven't been this light in several years. What's cool is I haven't been trying to shed; it's coming off naturally. Make sure you look for my new diet book soon, The Guaranteed Way to Lose Weight: Ride Your Bike 200+ Miles a Week. Advance orders being accepted at Amazon next week. ... After not testing my six-minute power last month, I put up a 283-watt effort this month, an increase of 5.6 percent from my February number (268). And I didn't pace this correctly. I had too much left over at the end. First time I've done that in a while. ... I started riding in a group again and it's been at the right intensity. Before I latch on, I've been in the saddle for about two hours. I'm pulling short, seeking to keep it steady. ... I continue to ride strong off-road at Markham. It's incredible how low my RPE has been. I'm easily staying aerobic and averaging a steady 10.8 mph over my two laps (about 18 miles). ... My CTL went over 80 last week, so I'm getting into the high-fitness range where I could start intensity work. I'm going to hold off and continue building my aerobic engine for the next three months, when, if all goes as planned, I should be over 100. I should be more than primed for the two-month Build phase of intensity and lower volume. ... Last two Saturday mornings have been wet, making it feel like I went for a swim on my bike.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Base I Recap (Weeks 5-8)
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: OFTEN TIMES LIFE IS NOTHING MORE THAN A TWISTED WEB OF DECEIT, LIES AND HYPOCRISY. |
Total miles: 846
Total hours: 51.5
Weight: 131 pounds (59.5 kilos)
FTP: 226 watts
FTP/weight: 3.80
CTL: 65.7
Wallets found on the roadway and turned into the police: 1
Thoughts from the saddle: Contacted a virus a couple weeks ago that kept me off the bike a few days. ... One of the best things I appreciate about cycling and training is that when things go wrong in your life, you have an outlet to try and work out your problems and even take out your anger. Without going into details, I've needed that outlet recently. ... My FTP increased 3.6 percent (from 218 watts). ... I continue to make progress off-road at Markham. I'm riding all the trails (two laps, 17.8 miles) and doing it while staying aerobic. Even the short steeps are not stinging me. My speeds (between 10.5-10.8 mph) have been inching upward even though I'm not trying to go faster; it's happening naturally. Of course, the weather is still fairly mild out there. When the worm turns in the next month or two and the temps and humidity skyrocket, I'll likely see those speeds hold or go down. ... Beginning this week, I'll add a group ride on Saturdays. The one I'm thinking of doing, organized by an LBS owner, will fit my needs perfectly. Supposedly, it's tame and devoid of hammerheads out to inflict pain and suffering. There's a place for those rides; just not now. I'm planning on stretching that day's ride to four hours (riding solo before and afterward).
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Lost in the mountains
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| OUT OF THE TUNNEL AND INTO THE WINTER: THIS ISN'T FLORIDA; IT'S MT. PISGAH. |
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| REAL ICICLES, NOT THE PLASTIC STRANDS US FLORIDIANS BUY FOR OUR X-MAS TREES. |
I rode 130 wonderful miles over four days there last week. Thanks to a patient wife, I hit either the road or the dirt in the early, frosty morning hours and completely lost myself.
Problems?
What problems?
Bills?
What bills?
Work?
What's a job? Certainly not riding your bike here.
When we started driving home, it finally hit me this was all over and it was like awakening after one terrific dream. Even now, I can't believe how blissful the entire trip was. I keep reliving parts of it in my mind when lying in bed before sleep.
I rode the Blue Ridge Parkway three times; on the first day, with the temperatures hovering around 29 in South Asheville, I climbed on the Parkway, which was nirvana because parts of it were closed due to inclement weather, went south and didn't stop until reaching Mount Pisgah at 5,700 feet two hours later. I came out of a tunnel with the Mount Pisgah sign staring at me and the road went from damp to covered in snow and ice. So this is what biking in the North Pole must be like, I thought, while stopping to take a couple photos.
Like the true winter novice, when getting back on my bike, I slipped and fell on the ice, busting up my elbow pretty good.
I probably looked like a doe trapped on the ice, legs sprawled.
On the subject of deer, on the way up I saw about five or six whitetails playing in the road, so I wasn't the only one seizing the day.
Of course, what goes up, must come down, so I experienced a cool descent down the Parkway, which was unlike anything I've ever done because it was a closed road and could hog the whole surface. When I returned to our cabin, I clocked out at 3 hours, 15 minutes; 42.6 miles, 13.2 mph.
I took one morning to ride off-road at Bent Creek. I'm finally learning my way around and hit more trails than ever. I turned 21.8 miles in a little over two hours, getting on the trail at daybreak. A few of the climbs stung me (especially Ingles Field Gap), but I patiently stayed in the aerobic zone and scaled them. There's something a little unnerving about being all alone in the woods; there's also something about being totally at peace. That's something I experienced in those woods and on the Parkway.
It's soul-cleansing.
Ride the sky.
I did.
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| FOG OVER THE VALLEY OFF THE PARKWAY. |
Monday, February 27, 2012
Base I Recap (Weeks 1-4)
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: I'M ON THE BIKE AND THE WEATHER IS BEAUTIFUL. |
Total miles: 866
Total hours: 55.5
Weight: 135.2 (61.5 kilos)
FTP: 218 watts
FTP/weight: 3.54
CP6: 268 watts
CTL: 57.5
Turtles rescued from the roadway: 1
Thoughts from the saddle: I've been riding the past week in Asheville, a true cycling mecca. I'll have a post on that experience soon. ... I've never ridden as far as slowly as I did the past month. Throughout, I was concerned I might be wasting my time and wouldn't see much benefit. I was wrong. I increased my FTP 6.3 percent from last month and my CP6 8 percent. Because I didn't do any group rides or tempo work, I was pleasantly surprised. There might be something to this developing your aerobic system fully before addressing intensity. ... Girl Scout cookies, I curse thee. Super Bowl Sunday? I damn thee. And Fat Tuesday? Fat chance I wouldn't gain weight. Anyone know a painless way to sew my mouth shut with monofilament? ... A favor to ask: While I'm trying to rack up all these low-intensity miles and you're approaching from behind as part of a group, pass either on the left or right, but not on both sides. ... I've been listening to the new Van Halen album, A Different Kind of Truth, while on the bike. After being initially critical after hearing the first single, Tattoo (which is like audio Krazy Glue after hearing it a couple times), I have to say Ed and the boys delivered a vintage VH album straight from the '78-'81 glory years. Michael Anthony's backing vocals are definitely missed, but this album rocks, even if it is late-70s demos. Check out tracks She's the Woman, Big River, Honeybabysweetiedoll, and Stay Frosty. ... Continued riding once a week off-road at Markham Park. Recently included a couple additional technical trails, and I was able to ride them without going anaerobic. That was another sign my fitness is improving. ... I see ORAMM sold out. Man, that was quick. I'm all in, though.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Prep Recap
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| PHOTO OF THE MONTH: THE LONG ROAD AHEAD. |
What I did: Two and half weeks of levels I and II endurance rides to reacquaint myself with cycling, ending this past weekend with a weigh-in and FTP and CP6 tests.
Total miles: 412
Total hours: 26
Weight: 138 pounds (62.7 kilos)
Functional Threshold Power (FTP): 205 watts
FTP/Weight: 3.27 watts per kilo
CP6: 248 watts
Chronic Training Load (CTL): 39.2
Thoughts from the saddle: I felt like I hadn't ridden in six weeks after that first ride on Jan. 14 because, well, I hadn't. That was my longest break ever. ... After about the first 200 miles, heartrate and RPE went down and power increased (110-115 watts), letting me know the training effect was taking place. ... I was holding back a lot after those initial miles, telling myself I have a long way to go and a long time to get there. Don't race. It's a hard habit to break. ... I rode once a week off-road, skipping some of the toughest, technical trails at Markham Park so I could keep a steady pace and get in a low-key 17-mile ride. ... I was really happy to get in that first three-hour solo road ride on Jan. 21. (The three-quarters-into-the-ride stop at Starbucks for a dopio was the carrot.) I was able to go two hours the next day, so I knew I didn't overdo it; I was comfortably tired. ... My FTP and CP6 tests were sobering. I paced both well and felt powerful -- until I looked at the average watts. Need to keep reminding myself I have a long way to go and a long time to get there. Maybe that should be my Base theme? ... Because I'm starting training much earlier than in the past, it's been really nice to ride in comfortable South Florida weather in the morning. I'm normally fighting high humidity in late May when I traditionally begin. This has been less taxing. So far.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Insane in the brain
Einstein said doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result is insanity. If that's true, I've been insane for the past five years.
After enjoying my best cross-country racing season in 2006, when I finished fourth in the state in the 40+ Expert class, I got lazy and cut back on my volume. Who needs all of those "junk miles''? Instead of patiently rebuilding my base endurance in the spring of '07 -- like I had done the previous three years -- I felt so good I began riding harder at the expense of long steady distance. I thought I had reached a level of fitness that no longer needed a lot of LSD. Consequently, a season that began with such hope and confidence ended in supreme disappointment. I didn't even finish enough state races to qualify for a top-five finish.
For the next four years, partly because of work and partly because of laziness, I continued shortchanging my base training. Fewer hours in the saddle, more time hammering. When I wasn't getting the results, I continually tweaked the intensity, thinking that was the answer. And guess what? I managed to get slower each year. With the exception of a nice finish at ORAMM in 2010, my race results were terrible.
After feeling sorry for myself and suffering a severe lack of motivation all things training and cycling in the latter part of 2010, I'm back to end the insanity and do something to make me feel good about my sport again. I'm beginning an ambitious base building plan that if I succeed will be the foundation of rebuilding my fitness to my '06 level and hopefully beyond. This coming after studying Arthur Lydiard's training principles, which has been like finding the key to unlock my potential. He seems to think building a giant aerobic engine with lots of LSD is a pretty good thing before even thinking about sharpening your high-end. I'm going to put this to the test.
After annually only allowing 10 weeks of base, I'm planning for 24 this year. Eight weeks of lower level endurance miles with a small amount of speed-play, then adding some tempo and force intervals in the next eight followed by adding a final eight weeks of mid-level threshold intervals. Then I'll focus on sharpening with anaerobic capacity and Vo2max intervals and selected fast group rides that will in effect be C-priority races.
Add it up and I'm hoping to get 12+ hours and 180-225 miles a week. Of course, my work schedule could kill the best laid plans. I'm planning on racing ORAMM in July, giving me a not-too-distant target to shoot for, leading into the Florida State Championship Series in September.
I will update my progress monthly so come along for the ride to see if I can reclaim my race fitness.
Or go mad trying.
After enjoying my best cross-country racing season in 2006, when I finished fourth in the state in the 40+ Expert class, I got lazy and cut back on my volume. Who needs all of those "junk miles''? Instead of patiently rebuilding my base endurance in the spring of '07 -- like I had done the previous three years -- I felt so good I began riding harder at the expense of long steady distance. I thought I had reached a level of fitness that no longer needed a lot of LSD. Consequently, a season that began with such hope and confidence ended in supreme disappointment. I didn't even finish enough state races to qualify for a top-five finish.
For the next four years, partly because of work and partly because of laziness, I continued shortchanging my base training. Fewer hours in the saddle, more time hammering. When I wasn't getting the results, I continually tweaked the intensity, thinking that was the answer. And guess what? I managed to get slower each year. With the exception of a nice finish at ORAMM in 2010, my race results were terrible.
After feeling sorry for myself and suffering a severe lack of motivation all things training and cycling in the latter part of 2010, I'm back to end the insanity and do something to make me feel good about my sport again. I'm beginning an ambitious base building plan that if I succeed will be the foundation of rebuilding my fitness to my '06 level and hopefully beyond. This coming after studying Arthur Lydiard's training principles, which has been like finding the key to unlock my potential. He seems to think building a giant aerobic engine with lots of LSD is a pretty good thing before even thinking about sharpening your high-end. I'm going to put this to the test.
After annually only allowing 10 weeks of base, I'm planning for 24 this year. Eight weeks of lower level endurance miles with a small amount of speed-play, then adding some tempo and force intervals in the next eight followed by adding a final eight weeks of mid-level threshold intervals. Then I'll focus on sharpening with anaerobic capacity and Vo2max intervals and selected fast group rides that will in effect be C-priority races.
Add it up and I'm hoping to get 12+ hours and 180-225 miles a week. Of course, my work schedule could kill the best laid plans. I'm planning on racing ORAMM in July, giving me a not-too-distant target to shoot for, leading into the Florida State Championship Series in September.
I will update my progress monthly so come along for the ride to see if I can reclaim my race fitness.
Or go mad trying.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
FSCS 4: Perspective
Alafia River State Park is my off-road riding home away from home. I'm a Tampa native, so coming back to race is a highlight of this series.
Racing and riding at Alafia always brings back memories when signage, a paved parking lot and a bike wash station didn't exist.
The first time out here I encountered a gopher tortoise nearly the size of a treasure chest and a pack of wild boars carving some singletrack. I also remember getting lost and barely finding my way back to my truck before sundown.
I've never raced particularly well here. This is a difficult course with your heart rate at 130 beats per minute, let alone at 160. And every year the course is changed to keep you on your toes, which if you're not careful, will have you on your back. (More on this later.)
Anyway, I didn't have a great race Sunday. I was the last rider in my class to finish, but I did have a better start and overall raced better than in Gainesville. I still feel like I'm in way over my head and have to fight the mental battle not to quit. I had several riders from other classes pass me and that really gets me down.
Until I saw something else that left an impression.
Coming out of a very tricky section known as Rabbit Ears and feeling awful, I noticed a man in a wheelchair watching the race. Soon after, I stopped thinking about my pain and mentally took my butt out of the saddle and put it in that wheelchair.
Perspective.
Here I am upset at how slow I'm riding and I'm forgetting something more important.
How lucky I am.
I'm free to ride. To push the limits. To have full use of my body. To do the things some people can only dream of. Yeah, even to finish last. It's not that I felt sorry for the guy; he's out here on a wonderful day, surely being entertained by some crazies tear-assin' through the woods.
It's just ... damn, be thankful for what you have and can do.
"You better take a fool's advice, take care of your own. One day they're here; the next day they're gone. ...'' -- New York Minute, Don Henley.
Feeling better about my predicament on the final lap of three, all that good feeling came to an end with an endo and landing on my back. I keep a multi-tool in my middle jersey pocket and I landed on that denting me good at the waistline. Took me a few minutes to recover -- and another rider passed me -- but I managed to finish the race.
Perspective. At least I'm able to ride. At least I'm able to roll up to the starting line. At least I'm able to experience the good, bad and the painful.
Racing and riding at Alafia always brings back memories when signage, a paved parking lot and a bike wash station didn't exist.
The first time out here I encountered a gopher tortoise nearly the size of a treasure chest and a pack of wild boars carving some singletrack. I also remember getting lost and barely finding my way back to my truck before sundown.
I've never raced particularly well here. This is a difficult course with your heart rate at 130 beats per minute, let alone at 160. And every year the course is changed to keep you on your toes, which if you're not careful, will have you on your back. (More on this later.)
Anyway, I didn't have a great race Sunday. I was the last rider in my class to finish, but I did have a better start and overall raced better than in Gainesville. I still feel like I'm in way over my head and have to fight the mental battle not to quit. I had several riders from other classes pass me and that really gets me down.
Until I saw something else that left an impression.
Coming out of a very tricky section known as Rabbit Ears and feeling awful, I noticed a man in a wheelchair watching the race. Soon after, I stopped thinking about my pain and mentally took my butt out of the saddle and put it in that wheelchair.
Perspective.
Here I am upset at how slow I'm riding and I'm forgetting something more important.
How lucky I am.
I'm free to ride. To push the limits. To have full use of my body. To do the things some people can only dream of. Yeah, even to finish last. It's not that I felt sorry for the guy; he's out here on a wonderful day, surely being entertained by some crazies tear-assin' through the woods.
It's just ... damn, be thankful for what you have and can do.
"You better take a fool's advice, take care of your own. One day they're here; the next day they're gone. ...'' -- New York Minute, Don Henley.
Feeling better about my predicament on the final lap of three, all that good feeling came to an end with an endo and landing on my back. I keep a multi-tool in my middle jersey pocket and I landed on that denting me good at the waistline. Took me a few minutes to recover -- and another rider passed me -- but I managed to finish the race.
Perspective. At least I'm able to ride. At least I'm able to roll up to the starting line. At least I'm able to experience the good, bad and the painful.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
FSCS 3: Blank!
It's October and the weather's slowly getting less oppressive, which means it's great to be on the bike. On Sunday, the weather was glorious for the third race of the Florida State Championship Series in Gainesville.
Then my 40-plus Expert race began and thoughts quickly went from glorious to gory.
Here's what went right:
Here's what went wrong: Let's see, should said list be done alphabetically or order of importance? Never mind. I won't bore you.
If I was a horse, I'd been shot. I quit after three laps, completely broken by the demanding Hailes Trails. My poor effort has made me realize whatever I'm doing in training isn't adequately preparing me for the stresses of these races. I'm not sure if my volume and/or intensity is too low. Am I in such poor race shape that I need to give this more time to come around? I know I'm not overtrained. I go into all my breakthrough workouts fresh and ready to ride hard. T
his has been a problem in the past; on non-racing weeks, I ride four days a week, averaging 10 1/2 hours/160-175 miles.
But when the races begin, the pace feels over my head, incendiary. I have to cut my effort to avoid blowing up.
I've trained consistently since April, never missing a single workout because of sickness. My Functional Threshold Power is at an all-time high (245 watts). I'm lean (134 pounds).
But when I get on my mountain bike, I turn into Jelly. I'm likely not riding enough off-road (violating the specificity training principal) but that wouldn't completely explain my inability to compete to stay out of last place.
It's time to reflect and re-evaluate. At least the weather's turning and it's pleasant to be on the bike. Even if that bike isn't going very fast.
Addendum: On Friday, Joe Friel tweeted a line that I and others should remember when things aren't going as planned:
"Good or bad, you are not your last race. Let it go.''
Then my 40-plus Expert race began and thoughts quickly went from glorious to gory.
Here's what went right:
Here's what went wrong: Let's see, should said list be done alphabetically or order of importance? Never mind. I won't bore you.
If I was a horse, I'd been shot. I quit after three laps, completely broken by the demanding Hailes Trails. My poor effort has made me realize whatever I'm doing in training isn't adequately preparing me for the stresses of these races. I'm not sure if my volume and/or intensity is too low. Am I in such poor race shape that I need to give this more time to come around? I know I'm not overtrained. I go into all my breakthrough workouts fresh and ready to ride hard. T
his has been a problem in the past; on non-racing weeks, I ride four days a week, averaging 10 1/2 hours/160-175 miles.But when the races begin, the pace feels over my head, incendiary. I have to cut my effort to avoid blowing up.
I've trained consistently since April, never missing a single workout because of sickness. My Functional Threshold Power is at an all-time high (245 watts). I'm lean (134 pounds).
But when I get on my mountain bike, I turn into Jelly. I'm likely not riding enough off-road (violating the specificity training principal) but that wouldn't completely explain my inability to compete to stay out of last place.
It's time to reflect and re-evaluate. At least the weather's turning and it's pleasant to be on the bike. Even if that bike isn't going very fast.
Addendum: On Friday, Joe Friel tweeted a line that I and others should remember when things aren't going as planned:
"Good or bad, you are not your last race. Let it go.''
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
FSCS 2: Forward momentum
If progress can be measured in meeting little goals along the path to a quest, then you can say I'm finally on the right course.
I finished 14th out of 16 in the 28-mile second race of the Florida State Championship Series in Fernandina Beach on Sunday. While that pedestrian placing would make only a mother proud, I did accomplish a few things:
Nobody from classes starting behind me caught me.
I passed a few riders from other classes, including one from mine. Break out the champagne, hookers and call Moe Greene. The party's startin'.
My splits improved slightly from the last race: 31:46, 33:09, 33:33, 34:93--132.81.
The last time I raced at Fort Clinch Park about a year ago, I DNF'd (actually, quit) after two miserable laps and everyone from my class leaving me for dead in the woods. This year, with super dry trail conditions looking more suited for beach volleyball or a large litter-box expo, I rode a lot more like a racer. I had more of a high gear and pushed through the pain easier, especially on the final two laps.
I still have a long way to go, but a long time to get there.
Next up is Gainesville this weekend, and a trail that, mile for mile, might be the toughest in the state. I only hope I can continue to improve and have a good time along the way.
I finished 14th out of 16 in the 28-mile second race of the Florida State Championship Series in Fernandina Beach on Sunday. While that pedestrian placing would make only a mother proud, I did accomplish a few things:
Nobody from classes starting behind me caught me.
I passed a few riders from other classes, including one from mine. Break out the champagne, hookers and call Moe Greene. The party's startin'.
My splits improved slightly from the last race: 31:46, 33:09, 33:33, 34:93--132.81.
The last time I raced at Fort Clinch Park about a year ago, I DNF'd (actually, quit) after two miserable laps and everyone from my class leaving me for dead in the woods. This year, with super dry trail conditions looking more suited for beach volleyball or a large litter-box expo, I rode a lot more like a racer. I had more of a high gear and pushed through the pain easier, especially on the final two laps.
I still have a long way to go, but a long time to get there.
Next up is Gainesville this weekend, and a trail that, mile for mile, might be the toughest in the state. I only hope I can continue to improve and have a good time along the way.
Monday, September 13, 2010
FSCS 1: Starting over
When the main goal heading into a cross-country race is to simply finish, you know you have low expectations.
I had low expectations Sunday in Tallahassee at Tom Brown Park in the opening of the Florida State Championship Series.
Rising to the "challenge,'' I finished my four laps in the 40+ Expert Class. It was the first Expert race I've finished in nearly two years. That's a lot of DNFs and frustration.
Let's be serious. With the training I've done since April, I had other goals.
Compete.
Don't embarrass myself.
Didn't and did.
I finished 16th out of 21, a staggering 23-plus minutes behind the winner who could've in that time, according to one website:
Cleaned the oven.
Walked the dog.
Did a "quickie'' cleaning job on the bathroom.
Found a new recipe to try.
Another website proclaimed: How to Discover Your Life Purpose in About 20 Minutes.
Quickie cleaning job on the bathroom aside, finding your life's purpose would seem to be a worthwhile way to spend that time.
I was passed by so many riders from other classes that started two, four, six and eight minutes after mine that I felt like a hemorrhaging swimmer dog-paddling in a shark tank. With each pass and attempt to catch the wheel, a bit of ego was ripped away, leaving me red with embarrassment.
I heard "on your left'' so many times I thought I was picking up MSNBC on my heart-rate monitor. It was one of those races where you know very early you don't have the legs. I was constantly trying to find the right gear to get into rhythm. By the middle of the first lap, my legs felt like glass. My lap times point out someone who's not in race shape: 31:73, 33:67, 37:00, 37:17--139.57. Nearly 2 1/2 hours to ride 27.2 miles? Let's see, in 2 1/2 hours you could've ...
At least I'm finished. I mean, I finished.
There was a time in 2006 when I did compete in this class and never embarrassed myself. Then, because of training mistakes and lack of focus, I went from racer to recreation cyclist. I put in too many junk road miles at the expense of intensity needed to compete. And before I knew it, I went from shark to bait fish.
I think my training plan for this year is solid. I am getting in more intensity. I am allowing for more recovery. I'm less of a slave to mileage and hours. But, if this latest race proved anything, besides the fact I'm in way over my head right now, it's that I'm starting over. And unless the subject is history, nobody wants to go back to the beginning.
I'm hoping with much-needed race time in the next month, I can regain what's been lost. If not, maybe I'll take some time to try a new recipe.
I had low expectations Sunday in Tallahassee at Tom Brown Park in the opening of the Florida State Championship Series.
Rising to the "challenge,'' I finished my four laps in the 40+ Expert Class. It was the first Expert race I've finished in nearly two years. That's a lot of DNFs and frustration.
Let's be serious. With the training I've done since April, I had other goals.
Compete.
Don't embarrass myself.
Didn't and did.
I finished 16th out of 21, a staggering 23-plus minutes behind the winner who could've in that time, according to one website:
Cleaned the oven.
Walked the dog.
Did a "quickie'' cleaning job on the bathroom.
Found a new recipe to try.
Another website proclaimed: How to Discover Your Life Purpose in About 20 Minutes.
Quickie cleaning job on the bathroom aside, finding your life's purpose would seem to be a worthwhile way to spend that time.
I was passed by so many riders from other classes that started two, four, six and eight minutes after mine that I felt like a hemorrhaging swimmer dog-paddling in a shark tank. With each pass and attempt to catch the wheel, a bit of ego was ripped away, leaving me red with embarrassment.
I heard "on your left'' so many times I thought I was picking up MSNBC on my heart-rate monitor. It was one of those races where you know very early you don't have the legs. I was constantly trying to find the right gear to get into rhythm. By the middle of the first lap, my legs felt like glass. My lap times point out someone who's not in race shape: 31:73, 33:67, 37:00, 37:17--139.57. Nearly 2 1/2 hours to ride 27.2 miles? Let's see, in 2 1/2 hours you could've ...
At least I'm finished. I mean, I finished.
There was a time in 2006 when I did compete in this class and never embarrassed myself. Then, because of training mistakes and lack of focus, I went from racer to recreation cyclist. I put in too many junk road miles at the expense of intensity needed to compete. And before I knew it, I went from shark to bait fish.
I think my training plan for this year is solid. I am getting in more intensity. I am allowing for more recovery. I'm less of a slave to mileage and hours. But, if this latest race proved anything, besides the fact I'm in way over my head right now, it's that I'm starting over. And unless the subject is history, nobody wants to go back to the beginning.
I'm hoping with much-needed race time in the next month, I can regain what's been lost. If not, maybe I'll take some time to try a new recipe.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
The key to success
Joe Friel's latest blog post How to Recover reveals the key to training -- and getting faster -- and should not be ignored:
http://www.joefrielsblog.com/
http://www.joefrielsblog.com/
Friday, August 27, 2010
Striking a balance
There's yin and yang, black and white, cats and dogs and on and off.
The world is about balance. So should your life as a cyclist.
Competitive cycling can turn into an obsession. Quickly. I'm not sure what feeds it more: success or failure. When things are rolling, many get too excited and start riding and training more. When things aren't, many get too worried and start riding and training more.
The key is moderation. It really is. What helps are hobbies. If you don't have many other interests, developing one can help your cycling in the long run.
Playing guitar is the perfect yang to my cycling yin. Maybe it's the rhythm thing. When you're out on your bike, either in training or racing, having a good day, you're definitely in a rhythm. Things are flowing, just like when you're hitting the note playing guitar. It's zen-like.
But if your hobby is rock collecting, it's all good. Because you're thinking about rock collecting at those times and not cycling or your fitness or your numbers.
Time away makes the heart grow fonder. Sometimes, a little physical or mental diversion from the bike can make your fitness grow stronger and your cycling more fulfilling.
The world is about balance. So should your life as a cyclist.
Competitive cycling can turn into an obsession. Quickly. I'm not sure what feeds it more: success or failure. When things are rolling, many get too excited and start riding and training more. When things aren't, many get too worried and start riding and training more.
The key is moderation. It really is. What helps are hobbies. If you don't have many other interests, developing one can help your cycling in the long run.
Playing guitar is the perfect yang to my cycling yin. Maybe it's the rhythm thing. When you're out on your bike, either in training or racing, having a good day, you're definitely in a rhythm. Things are flowing, just like when you're hitting the note playing guitar. It's zen-like.But if your hobby is rock collecting, it's all good. Because you're thinking about rock collecting at those times and not cycling or your fitness or your numbers.
Time away makes the heart grow fonder. Sometimes, a little physical or mental diversion from the bike can make your fitness grow stronger and your cycling more fulfilling.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Why do you ride?
For the competition? The exercise? To escape? To commute?
All of the above?
For me, it's always been a moving target. When I began cycling as a teenager in the '70s, it was all about BMX racing, hanging out at the local bike shop and trying to win Florida Bicycle Motocross Association medals.
I didn't win many. But after watching On Any Sunday and being mesmerized by the opening bicycle sce
ne, BMX was the thing. At least until I could talk my parents into a dirt bike.
Then I began "jumping,'' which my buddies and I called it then, now called "freestyle'' or "vert'' among the X Games generation; my crew was way ahead of the curve. That's when I found something I was really good at on two wheels. It was all about showing off. I generally soared the highest, furthest and with more style than most, all from dirt jumps we meticulously built with Army shovels and a little mud. And we never wore helmets or had second thoughts about trying just about anything while in the air.
Jimi put it best. "Freedom, that's what I want now. Freedom, that's what I need now.''
But after tweaking one too many goose necks, forks and wheels -- but never my body -- and discovering girls, alcohol and Van Halen, I retired, never to give a serious thought to owning or riding another bicycle until my early 20s.
Along with a good friend and fellow BMXer, we decided to buy beach cruisers in the early '80s to turn cycling into a more grounded, leisurely activity, complete with pub stops. That is, on the few occasions we weren't drinking while pedaling.
From Tampa, where we lived, we'd dress in our swim trunks and ride our cruisers, equipped with mini-coolers fitted to our handlebars, over the Gandy Bridge to the pink Don Cesar beach resort on St. Petersburg Beach. Round trip: a little more than 50 miles. Beers consumed: at least 12 apiece. Even then, I knew the importance of proper hydration.
How we made it back alive from more than 20 trips I'll never know.
It's now 1999. Christmas Day, to be exact. My cruiser is rusting in the garage and Charmain and I have been living in South Florida for six months. I step on the bathroom scale and receive a yuletide wake-up call.
One-hundred and sixty-six pounds.
166?
75.5 kilos?
Hanging on my 5-foot-4 frame?
In January, I began a lifestyle change. I watched what I ate and started jogging and lifting weights again. By mid year, I had dropped about 20 pounds. Jogging was getting boring and I felt myself slipping from my new healthy state of mind.
Fortunately, I saw an ad in Sports Illustrated about a giveaway for a Specialized Enduro mountain bike, sort of a grown-up BMX bike, I thought.
Well, I didn't win the Enduro, but Charmain gave me a Specialized Hard Rock mountain bike that Christmas. I was a mountain biker, soon to buy a helmet, clipless pedals and Ned Overend's book Mountain Bike Like a Champion. Most importantly, never to become fat again.
Talk about lifestyle changes, I even quit drinking.
So why do you ride?
All of the above?
For me, it's always been a moving target. When I began cycling as a teenager in the '70s, it was all about BMX racing, hanging out at the local bike shop and trying to win Florida Bicycle Motocross Association medals.
I didn't win many. But after watching On Any Sunday and being mesmerized by the opening bicycle sce
ne, BMX was the thing. At least until I could talk my parents into a dirt bike.Then I began "jumping,'' which my buddies and I called it then, now called "freestyle'' or "vert'' among the X Games generation; my crew was way ahead of the curve. That's when I found something I was really good at on two wheels. It was all about showing off. I generally soared the highest, furthest and with more style than most, all from dirt jumps we meticulously built with Army shovels and a little mud. And we never wore helmets or had second thoughts about trying just about anything while in the air.
Jimi put it best. "Freedom, that's what I want now. Freedom, that's what I need now.''
But after tweaking one too many goose necks, forks and wheels -- but never my body -- and discovering girls, alcohol and Van Halen, I retired, never to give a serious thought to owning or riding another bicycle until my early 20s.
Along with a good friend and fellow BMXer, we decided to buy beach cruisers in the early '80s to turn cycling into a more grounded, leisurely activity, complete with pub stops. That is, on the few occasions we weren't drinking while pedaling.
From Tampa, where we lived, we'd dress in our swim trunks and ride our cruisers, equipped with mini-coolers fitted to our handlebars, over the Gandy Bridge to the pink Don Cesar beach resort on St. Petersburg Beach. Round trip: a little more than 50 miles. Beers consumed: at least 12 apiece. Even then, I knew the importance of proper hydration.
How we made it back alive from more than 20 trips I'll never know.
It's now 1999. Christmas Day, to be exact. My cruiser is rusting in the garage and Charmain and I have been living in South Florida for six months. I step on the bathroom scale and receive a yuletide wake-up call.
One-hundred and sixty-six pounds.
166?
75.5 kilos?
Hanging on my 5-foot-4 frame?
In January, I began a lifestyle change. I watched what I ate and started jogging and lifting weights again. By mid year, I had dropped about 20 pounds. Jogging was getting boring and I felt myself slipping from my new healthy state of mind.
Fortunately, I saw an ad in Sports Illustrated about a giveaway for a Specialized Enduro mountain bike, sort of a grown-up BMX bike, I thought.
Well, I didn't win the Enduro, but Charmain gave me a Specialized Hard Rock mountain bike that Christmas. I was a mountain biker, soon to buy a helmet, clipless pedals and Ned Overend's book Mountain Bike Like a Champion. Most importantly, never to become fat again.
Talk about lifestyle changes, I even quit drinking.
So why do you ride?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Taking a bite out of the dog days
On Saturday, I completed maybe my single best week of training. The 11 1/12-hour 175-mile microcycle included an hour kundalini yoga workout, the rest cycling.
Following a transition week after ORAMM, I began the Build I mesocycle with two sessions of lactate tolerance intervals (3 sets of 4 30 seconds on -- 350+ watts -- 15 off, separated by five minutes recovery between sets). These really develop race fitness for fast starts, bridging gaps and finding that "extra'' gear.
For the first time in more than a month, I rode at Markham Park (16 miles). That place, sitting on the edge of the Everglades, normally is a graveyard for me during the dog days. On Wednesday afternoon though, I had my strongest August ride out there ever. I felt powerful and had a low RPE. I averaged nearly 11 mph. Normally, I'm at about 10 mph at this time of the year.
And then on Saturday, I did the group ride with the Memorial Hospital gang. It was another ferocious ride, but I managed to hang, get in some good pulls and basically hammer for 2 1/2 hours and 53 miles. I tacked on 24 miles before and 23 after to complete a 5 1/2-hour 100-mile workout and actually had a little left in the tank. Normally, I'm as dead as Dillinger.
Add it up, and I definitely received a fitness boost from completing ORAMM. The trick is building on it so I can raise my game higher in time for the start of the Florida State Championship Series beginning in just about a month in Tallahassee.
Following a transition week after ORAMM, I began the Build I mesocycle with two sessions of lactate tolerance intervals (3 sets of 4 30 seconds on -- 350+ watts -- 15 off, separated by five minutes recovery between sets). These really develop race fitness for fast starts, bridging gaps and finding that "extra'' gear.
For the first time in more than a month, I rode at Markham Park (16 miles). That place, sitting on the edge of the Everglades, normally is a graveyard for me during the dog days. On Wednesday afternoon though, I had my strongest August ride out there ever. I felt powerful and had a low RPE. I averaged nearly 11 mph. Normally, I'm at about 10 mph at this time of the year.And then on Saturday, I did the group ride with the Memorial Hospital gang. It was another ferocious ride, but I managed to hang, get in some good pulls and basically hammer for 2 1/2 hours and 53 miles. I tacked on 24 miles before and 23 after to complete a 5 1/2-hour 100-mile workout and actually had a little left in the tank. Normally, I'm as dead as Dillinger.
Add it up, and I definitely received a fitness boost from completing ORAMM. The trick is building on it so I can raise my game higher in time for the start of the Florida State Championship Series beginning in just about a month in Tallahassee.
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