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. This 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.''

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.

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.

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/

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.

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 scene, 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?

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.