In May I ended up licking my wounds and taking some down time. I ate a lot of food, ate a lot of bad food, drank some beer, drank some great beer. I worked out when I felt like it, but only did what I felt like doing, when I felt like doing it. I watched some bike racing and did a lot of planning for races in the winter and fall.
I needed to recharge my batteries.
My charged batteries look ... pudgey. :D
Now it's time to ease back into things. I'll try to share my ideas without getting overly excited and biting off more than I can chew.
I'll be teaching summer school this year, 22 total days of instruction. Classes start at 8 am and finish at 3 pm. Last summer I commuted one full week. It went well. This summer, I'm thinking I'll do the first week and see how it goes from there. Maybe I'll end up doing the whole thing.
In addition to commuting, I'll be doing a morning jog and my body workout routine. My current training plan really calls for racking up some consistent running right now, just piling up some miles. So if I have to chose between the commute and a run, the run stays.
Today was day 1. I was a bit sore and disappointed from yesterday's run (I was sore and ran out of gas), and I was a bit dehydrated from yesterday afternoon's 100 degree, windy ride. But I did a four mile progressive run. I love doing those as they tend to fit naturally with how I run when alone anyway. That is, start slow, and speed up.
Mile one: 9:51
Mile two: 9:03
Mile three: 8:06
Mile four: 7:37
Along with the run came with three sets of 25 pushups (I usually do 5 sets of 50) and three sets of 5 pullups (usually do 5 sets of 10). Then some jump rope, one legged squats, lunges, then some planks. It's a good routine. Over the next week or two I'll ease my numbers back to where they usually are.
For this morning's commute ... it didn't go without a hitch.
Last night I packed my clothes, three day's worth, to take to work. After showering and eating breakfast I go to hop on the bike only to find a flat tire. Ugh. I swap the tube, punctured the replacement with the paddle, and started over again. Running a little late when driving isn't a big deal. Running late while riding, well, is. Not only do I have to ride harder, making a stink of myself, I require more time to clean up and change for work!
But all went well. It's just a 6 mile, downhill ride, which I completed in just over 15 minutes.
On the way home it was 100 degrees, again (going to be 105 Friday), so I took my time arriving home 22 minutes later. Home is definitely uphill, though without any major climbs.
That's all there is to report for now. But I'm back at it again and will be updating more frequently once more.
Showing posts with label bicycle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycle. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Nogales Bicycle Classic RR
The atmosphere in the peloton was friendly, warm, familiar. Everybody, save me, knew one another. Old friends would put their hands on another's shoulder and talk with an intimacy born through knowing and accepting another over decades.
And like conversations between old compadres, the race intensity ebbed. Sometimes people would surge, stretching the pack thin, then it would slow and grow wide and comfortable.
This is how the race went for 40 miles. Sometimes we'd fly along at 35, sometimes at 22 mph.
Then, for reasons I didn't understand, it got quiet, dark. The group tightened. It was as if something ominous was about to transpire.
A battle was taking place with strategies I failed to comprehend and techniques I failed to recognize. Mistakenly, I thought the 1200 feet of climbing in final 5 miles would do me in. I wanted to hang on until then, and then see who was best prepared.
The race was the Inaugural Nogales Bicycle Classic. This is the town's second attempt at hosting a cycling event. The first date was postponed due to low participation.
I was hesitant to sign up as it came on the heels of a big race and during a very busy time of the year. Beyond that, to put it delicately, I had an stomach bug for 10 of the previous 14 days. I hadn't ridden my bike in two weeks, and the few runs I had were amazingly slow and difficult, leaving me inexplicably sore for days. But I want this event to be successful, so I joined.
Being a small race, I could easily place or come in last. I had hopes of placing, but my real goal was just to finish in less than 3 hours, even if I couldn't keep with the fast group. As I mentally prepared, I visualized falling in with the fastest group and trying to conserve energy where I could. Fifty-five of the route's sixty miles cover my routine rides. I imagined where I could catch my breath and where I would have to push hard. But, also recognizing my lack of preparation, I told myself that if I was dropped, I'd just enjoy the rest of the ride and have a good time.
Like the last race, the day before race day this time was anything but ideal. I never sat down at home, save breakfast. I worked, had an emotionally taxing day, ran errands in the afternoon, and then attended my oldest daughter's final high school band performance. When that was finished, I got home, prepared my bike and clothes, took a shower and hit the sack for a fitful night of sleep.
In the morning I woke up tired and achey. The quick 15 minute drive to the race was a real treat. I usually have to drive 60-plus miles. Once there, I soon discovered my jacket wasn't needed for a warm up ride, it wasn't at all cold, even at 6:30 am. That concerned me.
As I sat in the chute watching the clock count down, I glanced at my heart rate on the Garmin. It read, 96, 97, 98 ... excitement!
Count down ... race.
As you can see, there's a pretty nice climb to start the race, then it's a nearly uninterrupted shot downhill for 25 miles! How sweet is that?
Down the first hill my Garmin recorded an average moving speed just over 40 mph on the first mile, and just over 38 on the second. The top speed was 58 mph! I'm not sure if that's accurate, seems incredible to me. But, it was definitely too fast to look at the clock!
At mile 14 it was my turn to pull. I had my good luck socks on! As you can see, the mood is relaxed and friendly. I was excited to see my family (oldest daughter took the pictures) on the side of the road cheering! They'd let the group pass, then drive ahead and find another place to cheer and photograph. In fact, the public support and aid stations were superb! A lot of people came to watch.
Around mile 35 it grew warm. There was a headwind as we started to climb back up to Nogales. I made sure to slip to the middle or back of the pack, conserving my energy.
Then the eventual winners started doing something I'd not experienced. They would sprint ahead, spreading the pack. Some people couldn't match the pace would fall behind. After creating an insurmountable gap for those dropped, the lead group would slow down. The conversations died, the group tightened and dwindled from about 30 down to 15 or so. It was all fun for the first 40 miles, but the next 20 would be racing, no doubt about it!
Had I known what was happening sooner I could've been smarter and kept up without full out sprints. But I never tried to hang with fast guys before. I was ignorant of such tricks. I thought it was just foolish riders that would burn themselves out. I didn't realize they were trying to burn me. Falling into the trap, I'd ease in the back of the group hiding from the wind, then have to sprint forward, slipping between slower riders as the sprints continued. I should've stayed near the front and just tailed them when they left, instead of having to sprint alone.
Eventually there was a huge sprint and I got stuck behind some riders that were getting dropped. I crossed into the far lane and just slammed it, breaking 35 miles an hour on flat ground to catch up! That pretty much sealed my fate.
In the picture to the right you can see the first three placing riders employing this strategy. I'm stuck in the pack behind these guys about to make my sprint.
As we turned and went within a mile of my house I hit the wall. I was cooked earlier but didn't realize it. I slowed to form group of slower riders, but only three came. I fell in with them and we worked together, riding in single file, taking short turns at the front. We actually started closing the gap. But I knew what lay ahead. And the rolling hills ushered in some wonderful cramps.
Now knowing my chances of placing were now truly gone, I did as I practiced (mentally) and slowed down, trying to rest a bit for the big hills at the end.
I finished the last 6 miles alone. I worked through the rolling hills and then began the real climbs. I was very concerned on three occasions that I lacked the strength to climb the hills. I worried I was going to have to walk! Steady and slow I went, only standing and pulling hard when it was required by gravity. At one point I pushed so hard, at such a slow speed, I almost pulled a wheelie. My average pace through those hills was about 10 mph, sometimes dipping as low as 5 mph.
I came in at 2:57:57, in 11th place, just over 9 minutes behind the winners. My name was called out and people cheered as I crossed the finish line. A volunteer walked over with a cup of gatorade and ice for me and another came with a banana. I stretched, shook hands with the three people I rode with for a while and cooled down.
Everybody asked where I lived and then, after realizing I'm a local, commented it was strange not having seen me riding before. The winning rider came over and introduced himself. He complimented me on my form and cadence. He said he had been watching me during the race and liked how smooth and easy I was on the bike. That made me feel good.
It was certainly the best bike race environment I'd been a part of. I'm really hoping that the event is held again next year. All told, there were just over 140 participants for the three distances, 10, 40 and 60 miles. They organizers were very happy with this turnout. I hope that's a good sign!
The Nogales Bicycle Classic far exceeded my expectations. The support, both by sponsors and volunteers, and especially those just cheering, was fantastic. The participants were outgoing and friendly. The route was beautiful, roads in excellent condition, and it was very apparent that the organizers really cared about our experience.
I came away feeling charged and motivated to train harder this coming fall. I found out that I can hang! I will seek out other riders in the area and hopefully train with them. Until then, I am going to take a couple of weeks off to rest and recover.
And like conversations between old compadres, the race intensity ebbed. Sometimes people would surge, stretching the pack thin, then it would slow and grow wide and comfortable.
This is how the race went for 40 miles. Sometimes we'd fly along at 35, sometimes at 22 mph.
A battle was taking place with strategies I failed to comprehend and techniques I failed to recognize. Mistakenly, I thought the 1200 feet of climbing in final 5 miles would do me in. I wanted to hang on until then, and then see who was best prepared.
The race was the Inaugural Nogales Bicycle Classic. This is the town's second attempt at hosting a cycling event. The first date was postponed due to low participation.
I was hesitant to sign up as it came on the heels of a big race and during a very busy time of the year. Beyond that, to put it delicately, I had an stomach bug for 10 of the previous 14 days. I hadn't ridden my bike in two weeks, and the few runs I had were amazingly slow and difficult, leaving me inexplicably sore for days. But I want this event to be successful, so I joined.
Being a small race, I could easily place or come in last. I had hopes of placing, but my real goal was just to finish in less than 3 hours, even if I couldn't keep with the fast group. As I mentally prepared, I visualized falling in with the fastest group and trying to conserve energy where I could. Fifty-five of the route's sixty miles cover my routine rides. I imagined where I could catch my breath and where I would have to push hard. But, also recognizing my lack of preparation, I told myself that if I was dropped, I'd just enjoy the rest of the ride and have a good time.
Like the last race, the day before race day this time was anything but ideal. I never sat down at home, save breakfast. I worked, had an emotionally taxing day, ran errands in the afternoon, and then attended my oldest daughter's final high school band performance. When that was finished, I got home, prepared my bike and clothes, took a shower and hit the sack for a fitful night of sleep.
In the morning I woke up tired and achey. The quick 15 minute drive to the race was a real treat. I usually have to drive 60-plus miles. Once there, I soon discovered my jacket wasn't needed for a warm up ride, it wasn't at all cold, even at 6:30 am. That concerned me.
As I sat in the chute watching the clock count down, I glanced at my heart rate on the Garmin. It read, 96, 97, 98 ... excitement!
Count down ... race.
As you can see, there's a pretty nice climb to start the race, then it's a nearly uninterrupted shot downhill for 25 miles! How sweet is that?
Down the first hill my Garmin recorded an average moving speed just over 40 mph on the first mile, and just over 38 on the second. The top speed was 58 mph! I'm not sure if that's accurate, seems incredible to me. But, it was definitely too fast to look at the clock!
Around mile 35 it grew warm. There was a headwind as we started to climb back up to Nogales. I made sure to slip to the middle or back of the pack, conserving my energy.
Then the eventual winners started doing something I'd not experienced. They would sprint ahead, spreading the pack. Some people couldn't match the pace would fall behind. After creating an insurmountable gap for those dropped, the lead group would slow down. The conversations died, the group tightened and dwindled from about 30 down to 15 or so. It was all fun for the first 40 miles, but the next 20 would be racing, no doubt about it!
Had I known what was happening sooner I could've been smarter and kept up without full out sprints. But I never tried to hang with fast guys before. I was ignorant of such tricks. I thought it was just foolish riders that would burn themselves out. I didn't realize they were trying to burn me. Falling into the trap, I'd ease in the back of the group hiding from the wind, then have to sprint forward, slipping between slower riders as the sprints continued. I should've stayed near the front and just tailed them when they left, instead of having to sprint alone.Eventually there was a huge sprint and I got stuck behind some riders that were getting dropped. I crossed into the far lane and just slammed it, breaking 35 miles an hour on flat ground to catch up! That pretty much sealed my fate.
In the picture to the right you can see the first three placing riders employing this strategy. I'm stuck in the pack behind these guys about to make my sprint.
In the picture below I am moving to the outside to execute my biggest sprint.
Now knowing my chances of placing were now truly gone, I did as I practiced (mentally) and slowed down, trying to rest a bit for the big hills at the end.
I finished the last 6 miles alone. I worked through the rolling hills and then began the real climbs. I was very concerned on three occasions that I lacked the strength to climb the hills. I worried I was going to have to walk! Steady and slow I went, only standing and pulling hard when it was required by gravity. At one point I pushed so hard, at such a slow speed, I almost pulled a wheelie. My average pace through those hills was about 10 mph, sometimes dipping as low as 5 mph.
I came in at 2:57:57, in 11th place, just over 9 minutes behind the winners. My name was called out and people cheered as I crossed the finish line. A volunteer walked over with a cup of gatorade and ice for me and another came with a banana. I stretched, shook hands with the three people I rode with for a while and cooled down.
Everybody asked where I lived and then, after realizing I'm a local, commented it was strange not having seen me riding before. The winning rider came over and introduced himself. He complimented me on my form and cadence. He said he had been watching me during the race and liked how smooth and easy I was on the bike. That made me feel good.
It was certainly the best bike race environment I'd been a part of. I'm really hoping that the event is held again next year. All told, there were just over 140 participants for the three distances, 10, 40 and 60 miles. They organizers were very happy with this turnout. I hope that's a good sign!
The Nogales Bicycle Classic far exceeded my expectations. The support, both by sponsors and volunteers, and especially those just cheering, was fantastic. The participants were outgoing and friendly. The route was beautiful, roads in excellent condition, and it was very apparent that the organizers really cared about our experience.
I came away feeling charged and motivated to train harder this coming fall. I found out that I can hang! I will seek out other riders in the area and hopefully train with them. Until then, I am going to take a couple of weeks off to rest and recover.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Three Generations 5K Race Report
Somethings start rough but turn out really great, like a child. They complain and gripe, don't eat solid food and crap on themselves regularly. Today was like that.
We loaded in the car for a long day in Tucson, leaving home and our warm, comfy beds at 6:15, IN THE MORNING. My wife, daughters and myself, were all tired and grouchy. I had a sore throat. My wife had a sore throat. My oldest daughter was stressing about her first run. We bickered about the radio, about people talking too quietly, complaining too much, and so on. It's not typical for us, but we've been so incredibly busy the past two months that we've had no down time...we're worn out!
By the time we arrived at my parents' house, an hour later, we'd figured everything out. We dropped off our bicycles, for a ride later in the day, and headed another thirty minutes in the car to the race.
The muscles in my left foot were still sore from last weekend's half marathon and my legs were a little flat feeling from Thursday's bike ride. For the second straight night, I slept poorly (fretting over things at work), managing a solid two hours before waking, and then another three or so later as morning crept around. Not too bad for one day, but two days in a row gets old. Circumstances didn't appear to be there for me to break 20 minutes...and that bugged me. I actually woke in the middle of the night worried about running too hard and getting injured, or finishing in 24 minutes! My first 5K, in October, was 20:58, and I hadn't been running at all then. At least I had to surpass that time.
The drive to Tucson had been very windy, blowing the car all over the road. Weather.com said the winds were 28 miles per hour, gusts up to infinity. Oh well, I thought. I'll give it my best shot and see what happens.
My oldest daughter has never run save on a treadmill. She usually runs about two miles. She is stubborn as a goat and a cowgirl. She owns boots and converse, doesn't want running shoes. My dad's got a bum Achilles and walks with a limp. I'm exhausted. It's cold and windy and I'm wondering, what are we doing here? Let's just make sure this is a fun experience and live to fight another day! Words to live by, for a runner.
At the start I wanted to be up front, with some of the fast runners that I'm beginning to recognize, one of whom frequents runnersworld.com, "Run Keith." Keith is a super nice guy and I wanted to say hello today, but there was so much going on I didn't get the chance.
At the start of the race I quickly got boxed in. The fast group pulled ahead as we rounded the first turn (the first portion was a lap on the track). There were two girls running shoulder to shoulder in front of me, and a person on each side of me. The fast group was pulling away. I knew it would be unlikely I could stick with them, but if I had to catch up to them first, I had no shot. Still, I broke through and tried.
I'm not there yet. But I will be. I have a cardio base, but not a running base.
I was running well, not sure of my pace as there were no markers and I have a Timex Ironman, not a Garmin, (come on Santa!). After I'm guessing three-fourths of a mile a group of three men passed me. I decide to tuck in behind them. One of them was wearing the exact shirt I was...and here is the difference between men and women:
Two men wearing the same shirt: Fast Friends
Two women wearing the same shirt: Mortal Enemies
Anyhow, I followed him the entire race, moving to his left or his right depending on the wind. The others in his group would surge ahead, then drop back, but my wind-breaker was pretty steady...but man, he had a LONG stride. Me, I try and keep my strides short and quick, but had a hard time not dropping in his cadence.
Anyhow, with about a half a mile left, I passed him, wondering if it was too soon. I caught up to the next one in front. He heard me, sped up. I was red-lining, but knew that since we were heading straight into the wind that if I could stay there, I had a chance of passing him too. I stayed, but as we turned the corner, he sped up and opened a small gap. I closed the gap towards the finish line but couldn't catch him.
My time was 20:33 on my watch, and I think my overall place was 10th. Either way, I didn't make my goal of breaking 20 minutes. However, I will next time. And no doubt, it was a PR.
It was cool hearing my mom cheer me on at various times in the race, as well as seeing my wife and youngest daughter. I always think of my wife as I'm finishing a race or a hard run. It's doubly cool when she's actually there.
After I finished I recovered quickly and took over camera duties (by request). My dad came around the corner before my daughter...surprising. As he said, he walks with a limp but jogs just fine! He said he felt that 13 minute miles were safe but was pulling down 11:30's. That's slower than he likes to run, but with the injury, he was happy with it.
I was very proud. He's been on a similar weight-loss journey as my own and I was proud to see him working so hard. As far as I know, this was his first ever race that he could run! We both walked one in July as we both had injuries. He ended up with a time of 34:40. Not bad.
My daughter tried to pass some people, went off trail, tripped and fell. She tweaked an ankle, which she twisted again later. By the time she got to where we were taking pictures, she was done. She didn't finish. However, she's going to try again.
After the race we hung around for a bit, but really we weren't enjoying ourselves. It was cold and the wind sucked...or blew. Either way, my parents left and took my daughters with them to breakfast. My wife and I would catch up soon. I hoped to meet some other runners. But as it turned out, I was in a weird mood, and not feeling quite right, so we left. As always, food helped.
After breakfast we went back to my parents' house. I installed a new bike computer on my wife's bike and went headed to Marana, thirty minute drive away, to ride with my wife's dad. We ended up taking a 25 mile ride in. My wife and father-in-law ride a little slower than I do, but still, with fatigue, and giving all I had on the 5k, I was glad we were done.
Back another thirty minutes in the car to my parents' house. We ate dinner, and then drove twenty minutes to a guide dogs for the blind outing. My oldest daughter is truly an incredible person. For the past two years she has been volunteering for the organization Blind Dogs for the Blind, raising puppies. She gets a puppy and keeps it for year, attending weekly meetings where they develop skills and strategies to promote skills with these dogs, so they may become guide dogs. Anyhow, the outing was a walk through a neighborhood in Tucson, Winterhaven, where the houses are decorated incredibly for Christmas.
All told, I spent almost five hours in the car, set a PR in the wind, rode 25 miles on a bike and walked around for an hour or so looking at Christmas lights on 8 hours of sleep in the past two days, all while having lost 10 pounds in the past 21 days. And the best part...while we were all grouchy in the morning in the car, in the evening the car was overflowing with laughter and playful spirit. All told, an awesome day.
Then I get home with a new package in hand. This year my family drew names for Christmas. We would make a present (not buy) for the person we drew. My brother-in-law drew my name.
Funny what he made for me because just today I was thinking, "How am I going to keep these bibs and medals? They're important to me and I'd like a way to have them."
He provided hangers for the bibs to be hung on the "Races" plaque, but wasn't sure of the dimensions and didn't install them himself. What a cool present, huh?
We loaded in the car for a long day in Tucson, leaving home and our warm, comfy beds at 6:15, IN THE MORNING. My wife, daughters and myself, were all tired and grouchy. I had a sore throat. My wife had a sore throat. My oldest daughter was stressing about her first run. We bickered about the radio, about people talking too quietly, complaining too much, and so on. It's not typical for us, but we've been so incredibly busy the past two months that we've had no down time...we're worn out!
By the time we arrived at my parents' house, an hour later, we'd figured everything out. We dropped off our bicycles, for a ride later in the day, and headed another thirty minutes in the car to the race.
The drive to Tucson had been very windy, blowing the car all over the road. Weather.com said the winds were 28 miles per hour, gusts up to infinity. Oh well, I thought. I'll give it my best shot and see what happens.
My oldest daughter has never run save on a treadmill. She usually runs about two miles. She is stubborn as a goat and a cowgirl. She owns boots and converse, doesn't want running shoes. My dad's got a bum Achilles and walks with a limp. I'm exhausted. It's cold and windy and I'm wondering, what are we doing here? Let's just make sure this is a fun experience and live to fight another day! Words to live by, for a runner.
At the start I wanted to be up front, with some of the fast runners that I'm beginning to recognize, one of whom frequents runnersworld.com, "Run Keith." Keith is a super nice guy and I wanted to say hello today, but there was so much going on I didn't get the chance.
At the start of the race I quickly got boxed in. The fast group pulled ahead as we rounded the first turn (the first portion was a lap on the track). There were two girls running shoulder to shoulder in front of me, and a person on each side of me. The fast group was pulling away. I knew it would be unlikely I could stick with them, but if I had to catch up to them first, I had no shot. Still, I broke through and tried.
I'm not there yet. But I will be. I have a cardio base, but not a running base.
I was running well, not sure of my pace as there were no markers and I have a Timex Ironman, not a Garmin, (come on Santa!). After I'm guessing three-fourths of a mile a group of three men passed me. I decide to tuck in behind them. One of them was wearing the exact shirt I was...and here is the difference between men and women:
Two men wearing the same shirt: Fast Friends
Two women wearing the same shirt: Mortal Enemies
Anyhow, I followed him the entire race, moving to his left or his right depending on the wind. The others in his group would surge ahead, then drop back, but my wind-breaker was pretty steady...but man, he had a LONG stride. Me, I try and keep my strides short and quick, but had a hard time not dropping in his cadence.
My time was 20:33 on my watch, and I think my overall place was 10th. Either way, I didn't make my goal of breaking 20 minutes. However, I will next time. And no doubt, it was a PR.
It was cool hearing my mom cheer me on at various times in the race, as well as seeing my wife and youngest daughter. I always think of my wife as I'm finishing a race or a hard run. It's doubly cool when she's actually there.
I was very proud. He's been on a similar weight-loss journey as my own and I was proud to see him working so hard. As far as I know, this was his first ever race that he could run! We both walked one in July as we both had injuries. He ended up with a time of 34:40. Not bad.
My daughter tried to pass some people, went off trail, tripped and fell. She tweaked an ankle, which she twisted again later. By the time she got to where we were taking pictures, she was done. She didn't finish. However, she's going to try again.
After the race we hung around for a bit, but really we weren't enjoying ourselves. It was cold and the wind sucked...or blew. Either way, my parents left and took my daughters with them to breakfast. My wife and I would catch up soon. I hoped to meet some other runners. But as it turned out, I was in a weird mood, and not feeling quite right, so we left. As always, food helped.
After breakfast we went back to my parents' house. I installed a new bike computer on my wife's bike and went headed to Marana, thirty minute drive away, to ride with my wife's dad. We ended up taking a 25 mile ride in. My wife and father-in-law ride a little slower than I do, but still, with fatigue, and giving all I had on the 5k, I was glad we were done.
All told, I spent almost five hours in the car, set a PR in the wind, rode 25 miles on a bike and walked around for an hour or so looking at Christmas lights on 8 hours of sleep in the past two days, all while having lost 10 pounds in the past 21 days. And the best part...while we were all grouchy in the morning in the car, in the evening the car was overflowing with laughter and playful spirit. All told, an awesome day.
Funny what he made for me because just today I was thinking, "How am I going to keep these bibs and medals? They're important to me and I'd like a way to have them."
He provided hangers for the bibs to be hung on the "Races" plaque, but wasn't sure of the dimensions and didn't install them himself. What a cool present, huh?
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Finally, a new ride!
I couldn't sleep. I was amped up about the new ride I'd scheduled for this morning. I drank a lot of water, ate a lot of carbs (and junk too), drank more water and finally put a large glass of water by my bed. At nine pm, I went to bed. ... ... ... 9:02: Geez, I can't sleep! I needed a good night's rest. My legs were a bit sore and it was sure to be a tough ride in the morning.
I tried again. I thought of how the ride would go, visualized how it would work out. This sometimes puts me to sleep. No dice. 9:22. I then decided to think about work, maybe that'd send me away. Nope. I tossed and turned and would just dip into sleep when a mouse would sneeze in Chicago and I'd stir. It felt as thought I was flirting with night anxiety, which I get periodically. My heart was beginning to race a bit. I tried the heart-rate monitor to see...it was a whopping 58 bpm! That's a solid 10 to 12 over my normal heart rate though. I couldn't lay in bed or it would legitimately start racing and then I'd never fall asleep. At 11:00 I decided to try a warm bath. I read a Bicycling magazine and then planned how my training schedule might go with work.
At midnight I tried again and fell asleep.
A few things about the ride excited me. First, it was a new destination; the Whipple Observatory Visitor's Center at the base of Mt. Hopkins. Second, I started the right the day before with my wife, but just got a tease of what it would be. She began having some asthma problems and we were running out of time. So, we had to turn around. I did take this picture though.
Sometimes the memory of a view of a road, or trail, haunts me, beckoning my revisit. I was captivated. I wanted to ride that road, see what was over the hill and around the bend. I knew the road on a motorcycle, but things on a bicycle are quite different.
In addition to the scenery were a pair of mating Red Tailed Hawks. They were HUGE. One of them was very annoyed by our presence and would fly overhead screaming. He was close enough that we could see his mouth opening and his chest moving as he belted out his screech. The other, I'm assuming female, sat atop a powerline pole just looking at us.
We also found "fresh" backpacks left by illegals. In fact, I'm sure we just missed seeing them getting picked up. I've seen countless illegals and smugglers and so on, I live right in the region most heavily traveled (supposedly) on the US-Mexican border. Anyhow, I decided to share a picture of the packs as well as a souvenir I picked up while looking through the bags.
At six this morning I felt like I'd over-slept. I remember thinking, Great...it's gonna be hot on the ride now!
I felt relieved when I realized I had plenty of time to make breakfast (peanut butter and jelly) and have some coffee. Like last weekend, I toiled with the decision to take or leave the camelbak. This time the stores were not as ideally located as last weekend and the trip is 25 miles longer. I left the camelbak again. Turns out, I didn't need it.
My goal today was to work on my cadence. I've been finding that my knees and hips get tired if I have the cadence in the 80's or lower, but 95 to 105 and I don't get sore or tired. I wanted to see how much validity was in this observation and today was a good opportunity to do that.
At mile 15 (or so), I was passed by a gentleman in his mid-60's. Not just passed, but blown away! Some people talk about getting chic-ed, I got geriatric-ed. As he rode by he asked if I was riding to Green Valley again and that he'd seen me riding there from time to time. He was just riding around Tubac, probably a 20 mile loop as I've seen him ride out of a housing development there in the past. That realization made me feel slightly better. Still, I had been maintaining an 18.x mph average at that point and got smoked.
I rode the 26 or so miles to Elephant Head Road. The road was uphill and I was tired. My bladder complained to me about riding. I looked around for a secure place to wander into the shrub and answer the call when someone in with a thick Scottish accent said, "Good morning."
Collin, he later introduced himself as, was a stud rider. He had finished in the top 10 for the 80 mile leg of El Tour de Tucson the previous year. He slowed down and I sped up and we rode to the top of the road, at the base of the mountain, together. It was about 8 miles from where we started riding together and I was glad for the company. Not only was he quite interesting, but by riding with someone else, I didn't have to fight myself to keep pushing up the hill.
If you look at the graph of the elevation at the bottom of the picture, you can see, it was quite a hill to climb! Here's the link to the map if you would like to watch the fly over feature (google earth required).
We stopped at the top and refueled. After a short break, we went our separate ways. Collin had an appointment to keep later in the day and blasted ahead down the mountain. I had another 32 miles to go (he has 14) so even if I could've kept up with him, I needed to pace myself.
The ride was what I'd hoped it to be. There are a lot of wild flowers in full bloom right now, the air was still but warm (and humid) and the views were spectacular. I only had one car that didn't give me proper space while passing me, and otherwise, saw very little traffic. I beat the rain home and am sufficiently exhausted, though in high spirits. What more could an athlete ask for? How many other experiences are fulfilling in so many ways? Accomplishment, euphoric ephemeral corporeal experiences, fellowship, and the fact that through it all you've promoted your ability to do more of it next time!
I tried again. I thought of how the ride would go, visualized how it would work out. This sometimes puts me to sleep. No dice. 9:22. I then decided to think about work, maybe that'd send me away. Nope. I tossed and turned and would just dip into sleep when a mouse would sneeze in Chicago and I'd stir. It felt as thought I was flirting with night anxiety, which I get periodically. My heart was beginning to race a bit. I tried the heart-rate monitor to see...it was a whopping 58 bpm! That's a solid 10 to 12 over my normal heart rate though. I couldn't lay in bed or it would legitimately start racing and then I'd never fall asleep. At 11:00 I decided to try a warm bath. I read a Bicycling magazine and then planned how my training schedule might go with work.
At midnight I tried again and fell asleep.
A few things about the ride excited me. First, it was a new destination; the Whipple Observatory Visitor's Center at the base of Mt. Hopkins. Second, I started the right the day before with my wife, but just got a tease of what it would be. She began having some asthma problems and we were running out of time. So, we had to turn around. I did take this picture though.
Sometimes the memory of a view of a road, or trail, haunts me, beckoning my revisit. I was captivated. I wanted to ride that road, see what was over the hill and around the bend. I knew the road on a motorcycle, but things on a bicycle are quite different.
In addition to the scenery were a pair of mating Red Tailed Hawks. They were HUGE. One of them was very annoyed by our presence and would fly overhead screaming. He was close enough that we could see his mouth opening and his chest moving as he belted out his screech. The other, I'm assuming female, sat atop a powerline pole just looking at us.
We also found "fresh" backpacks left by illegals. In fact, I'm sure we just missed seeing them getting picked up. I've seen countless illegals and smugglers and so on, I live right in the region most heavily traveled (supposedly) on the US-Mexican border. Anyhow, I decided to share a picture of the packs as well as a souvenir I picked up while looking through the bags. At six this morning I felt like I'd over-slept. I remember thinking, Great...it's gonna be hot on the ride now!
I felt relieved when I realized I had plenty of time to make breakfast (peanut butter and jelly) and have some coffee. Like last weekend, I toiled with the decision to take or leave the camelbak. This time the stores were not as ideally located as last weekend and the trip is 25 miles longer. I left the camelbak again. Turns out, I didn't need it.
My goal today was to work on my cadence. I've been finding that my knees and hips get tired if I have the cadence in the 80's or lower, but 95 to 105 and I don't get sore or tired. I wanted to see how much validity was in this observation and today was a good opportunity to do that.
At mile 15 (or so), I was passed by a gentleman in his mid-60's. Not just passed, but blown away! Some people talk about getting chic-ed, I got geriatric-ed. As he rode by he asked if I was riding to Green Valley again and that he'd seen me riding there from time to time. He was just riding around Tubac, probably a 20 mile loop as I've seen him ride out of a housing development there in the past. That realization made me feel slightly better. Still, I had been maintaining an 18.x mph average at that point and got smoked.
I rode the 26 or so miles to Elephant Head Road. The road was uphill and I was tired. My bladder complained to me about riding. I looked around for a secure place to wander into the shrub and answer the call when someone in with a thick Scottish accent said, "Good morning."
If you look at the graph of the elevation at the bottom of the picture, you can see, it was quite a hill to climb! Here's the link to the map if you would like to watch the fly over feature (google earth required).
We stopped at the top and refueled. After a short break, we went our separate ways. Collin had an appointment to keep later in the day and blasted ahead down the mountain. I had another 32 miles to go (he has 14) so even if I could've kept up with him, I needed to pace myself.
The ride was what I'd hoped it to be. There are a lot of wild flowers in full bloom right now, the air was still but warm (and humid) and the views were spectacular. I only had one car that didn't give me proper space while passing me, and otherwise, saw very little traffic. I beat the rain home and am sufficiently exhausted, though in high spirits. What more could an athlete ask for? How many other experiences are fulfilling in so many ways? Accomplishment, euphoric ephemeral corporeal experiences, fellowship, and the fact that through it all you've promoted your ability to do more of it next time!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Sonoita, Arizona
On Saturday we were going to the home of some friends in Sonoita, Arizona. I was going to show them how to make beer-can chicken. Beer can chicken, by the way, even when done poorly, is awesome. But more on that another time.
The ride would be 40 miles east on two lane state highways and back roads that follow rivers and slip through and around mountains, climb over hills and dive down canyons. My wife would meet me there and we'd enjoy lunch with our friends.
The drive (in a car) is spectacular. I've ridden the route once before on a bicycle and the hills are formidable. In combination with the hills, the heat, and since it's monsoon season, humidity could possibly, I worried, prevent a whole lot of sight seeing on my bicycle.
I wrestled with the decision to bring the camelbak (3 liters of cold delicious water) or leave it because of weight. I decided to take the camelbak. Then I picked it up. The idea of carrying the additional 10 pounds (almost) up those hills seemed to only promise the NEED of the 3 liters of water it would carry. Three water bottles would have to do the trick. I filled two with gatorade, the other with water and grabbed my sport jelly beans and a gel shot. Sunscreen, more sunscreen, double checked the equipment and headed out the door at 8:30 am.
It was already 90 degrees. It was "fog your glasses" humid. Ugh. I was supposed to arrive in Sonoita at 11:00 am. Two and a half hours, forty mile ride and a climb of 2000 feet. I rolled through the neighborhood planning my approach, when to attack hills, when to grind them out, when to coast and rest.
I made it the five miles to South River Road, which winds along the bottom of a small canyon tracing the river's route. It quickly became clear that I didn't have the same amount of "juice" I've had over the past month. Game plan = gone.
River Road has never seemed hilly before and I've ridden countless times. But the rolling hills were frustrating me. I hoped the wind would pick up as it almost always blew from west to east. That would help. I guess the previous day's activities had taken their toll. I ran for 45 minutes in the morning and then rode in the heat for an hour and a half with my wife.
I turned east on Highway 82 and as always at this point was struck by the contradiction I was experiencing. The road definitely appeared to be uphill, and not subtly so. However, I was cruising at 18 mph and barely pedaling. Weird how that happens. It was short-lived though, lasting about a quarter mile.
The first sustained climb staggers its up way for about 4 miles before the road flattens on top of a large plateau featuring the Nogales International "Airport." When I reached the top I was rewarded with quite a view. The high clouds dropped patchwork shadows on the mountains, recently greened by the monsoons. The air smelled of honeysuckle and there were large patches of yellow and orange poppies, wild coneflowers, red and burned orange, and thistles topped with their large white flowers.
Then a bug smacked into my uvula. I swallowed...no luck, still there. I hacked and wretched. No dice. I squeezed a strong stream of water from my water bottle. Still, I could feel that stupid bug moving around. What is this...an insect version of Pinocchio where I'm starring the whale?
Up and down the hills I went before the best riding part, a sustained and steep downhill, about 5 miles long. I screamed down the hill in the lowest gear topping 42 mph. The road leveled a bit, but continued downhill, allowing gravity to shoot me through and around the winding, narrowing canyon.
I arrived in the first of the two towns on the route, Patagonia (means geographic end of the earth). As I pulled into the only convenience store in Patagonia, I noticed the wind was picking up. However, it was the wrong direction blowing in my face. The ride to the point had been tough. Adding to my misery was the realization that even with all of that up and down hill riding, the total elevation gain was just about 250 feet. I still had 1500 feet to climb, with the wind now in my face, which promised a simmering monsoon storm.
I bought a bottle of water, a bottle of Gatorade and my favorite in-ride fuel, a Snickers bar. The joys of riding are plentiful! I refilled, ate and stretched. Pending monsoon or not, I needed a break.
Sonoita is only 12 miles beyond Patagonia. Where the first 28 miles of the trip are steep climbs and fast descents, the last twelve miles are uphill without break. The last few miles are the biggest climbs.
The wind in my face picked up as I rode. My average speed dropped from 15.1 to 14.9 ... 14.8 and so on. I stopped looking at the average speed and focused on cadence. I distracted myself by looking for cool things in the view, but mostly I just suffered through it.
As I rode past a stone farmhouse I've always loved seeing, my wife passed me in the car. My youngest daughter's arm stuck out of the window, hand waving happily. I was still eight miles away, the hardest part remained. I know I would've said "No" if offered a ride, but it would've been nice. The ride proved to be a real grind, the kind that really tests mental toughness as much as physical.
Eventually I crested the last climb and saw that at the crossroad of highways 82 and 83. I felt less than proud of my effort. Then I noticed the flags at the Border Patrol station. They appeared hard-pressed and starched, pointed directly at me! Since it wasn't really gusting, I hadn't noticed how strong it had really become.
At the corner was a farmers market, the same one where two years ago I sold veggies I'd grown as well as salsas I made. My wife and daughter were there visiting people we'd not seen for a while. I stopped and said hello. All were amazed at the new me, but none asked what I'd done to lose weight. I think it was totally obvious at that point!
Upon seeing me, a lady said, despite the fact that this is definitely a family setting, "Holy shit!"
Another said, "I didn't know you had an athlete in you."
I replied, "He was WAAAY deep in there."
I rode with my wife the final mile to our friend's home. We cooked and ate and enjoyed awesome company. I played with Steve's remote control race truck and his track. Any thoughts of riding back home were long-since dismissed. That 40 miles incredibly more difficult than last weekend's 83 mile ride.
Then, the highlight of the day: An adult tricycle. It's awesome, just look at the picture.
I can't wait to try the ride again. I know I've got better than that to offer, next time...
The drive (in a car) is spectacular. I've ridden the route once before on a bicycle and the hills are formidable. In combination with the hills, the heat, and since it's monsoon season, humidity could possibly, I worried, prevent a whole lot of sight seeing on my bicycle.
I wrestled with the decision to bring the camelbak (3 liters of cold delicious water) or leave it because of weight. I decided to take the camelbak. Then I picked it up. The idea of carrying the additional 10 pounds (almost) up those hills seemed to only promise the NEED of the 3 liters of water it would carry. Three water bottles would have to do the trick. I filled two with gatorade, the other with water and grabbed my sport jelly beans and a gel shot. Sunscreen, more sunscreen, double checked the equipment and headed out the door at 8:30 am.
It was already 90 degrees. It was "fog your glasses" humid. Ugh. I was supposed to arrive in Sonoita at 11:00 am. Two and a half hours, forty mile ride and a climb of 2000 feet. I rolled through the neighborhood planning my approach, when to attack hills, when to grind them out, when to coast and rest.
I made it the five miles to South River Road, which winds along the bottom of a small canyon tracing the river's route. It quickly became clear that I didn't have the same amount of "juice" I've had over the past month. Game plan = gone.
River Road has never seemed hilly before and I've ridden countless times. But the rolling hills were frustrating me. I hoped the wind would pick up as it almost always blew from west to east. That would help. I guess the previous day's activities had taken their toll. I ran for 45 minutes in the morning and then rode in the heat for an hour and a half with my wife.
I turned east on Highway 82 and as always at this point was struck by the contradiction I was experiencing. The road definitely appeared to be uphill, and not subtly so. However, I was cruising at 18 mph and barely pedaling. Weird how that happens. It was short-lived though, lasting about a quarter mile.
The first sustained climb staggers its up way for about 4 miles before the road flattens on top of a large plateau featuring the Nogales International "Airport." When I reached the top I was rewarded with quite a view. The high clouds dropped patchwork shadows on the mountains, recently greened by the monsoons. The air smelled of honeysuckle and there were large patches of yellow and orange poppies, wild coneflowers, red and burned orange, and thistles topped with their large white flowers.
Then a bug smacked into my uvula. I swallowed...no luck, still there. I hacked and wretched. No dice. I squeezed a strong stream of water from my water bottle. Still, I could feel that stupid bug moving around. What is this...an insect version of Pinocchio where I'm starring the whale?
Up and down the hills I went before the best riding part, a sustained and steep downhill, about 5 miles long. I screamed down the hill in the lowest gear topping 42 mph. The road leveled a bit, but continued downhill, allowing gravity to shoot me through and around the winding, narrowing canyon.
I arrived in the first of the two towns on the route, Patagonia (means geographic end of the earth). As I pulled into the only convenience store in Patagonia, I noticed the wind was picking up. However, it was the wrong direction blowing in my face. The ride to the point had been tough. Adding to my misery was the realization that even with all of that up and down hill riding, the total elevation gain was just about 250 feet. I still had 1500 feet to climb, with the wind now in my face, which promised a simmering monsoon storm.
I bought a bottle of water, a bottle of Gatorade and my favorite in-ride fuel, a Snickers bar. The joys of riding are plentiful! I refilled, ate and stretched. Pending monsoon or not, I needed a break.
Sonoita is only 12 miles beyond Patagonia. Where the first 28 miles of the trip are steep climbs and fast descents, the last twelve miles are uphill without break. The last few miles are the biggest climbs.
The wind in my face picked up as I rode. My average speed dropped from 15.1 to 14.9 ... 14.8 and so on. I stopped looking at the average speed and focused on cadence. I distracted myself by looking for cool things in the view, but mostly I just suffered through it.
As I rode past a stone farmhouse I've always loved seeing, my wife passed me in the car. My youngest daughter's arm stuck out of the window, hand waving happily. I was still eight miles away, the hardest part remained. I know I would've said "No" if offered a ride, but it would've been nice. The ride proved to be a real grind, the kind that really tests mental toughness as much as physical.
Eventually I crested the last climb and saw that at the crossroad of highways 82 and 83. I felt less than proud of my effort. Then I noticed the flags at the Border Patrol station. They appeared hard-pressed and starched, pointed directly at me! Since it wasn't really gusting, I hadn't noticed how strong it had really become.
At the corner was a farmers market, the same one where two years ago I sold veggies I'd grown as well as salsas I made. My wife and daughter were there visiting people we'd not seen for a while. I stopped and said hello. All were amazed at the new me, but none asked what I'd done to lose weight. I think it was totally obvious at that point!
Upon seeing me, a lady said, despite the fact that this is definitely a family setting, "Holy shit!"
Another said, "I didn't know you had an athlete in you."
I replied, "He was WAAAY deep in there."
I rode with my wife the final mile to our friend's home. We cooked and ate and enjoyed awesome company. I played with Steve's remote control race truck and his track. Any thoughts of riding back home were long-since dismissed. That 40 miles incredibly more difficult than last weekend's 83 mile ride.
Then, the highlight of the day: An adult tricycle. It's awesome, just look at the picture.
I can't wait to try the ride again. I know I've got better than that to offer, next time...
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Great Day! Mile 70 was better than mile 20.
If it's going to be a long day, it better be good. I got up at a quarter before 5 am for the second straight day. On tap for today was a planned 80+ mile ride to Marana, Arizona, where I'd meet with my wife's family for a group birthday party (lots of July birthdays).
My game plan was to just cruise until I got to Tucson, 60 miles north. I did a great job for the first 20 miles, averaging 17.5 mph, keeping my cadence high and the perceived effort low. I practiced something new, stretching on the bike. I've stretched calves and hamstrings before, but today I unclipped one foot at a time and stretched my quads. It worked great. Amazing how comfortable I've become in the saddle.
I packed four water bottles, two with water, two with gatorade. I also brought a 3 liter camel back, a snack bag of pistachios and a few gel shots. When I hit the road at 5:20, it was under thick dark cloud cover. A papery cloud washed over San Cayetano, the mountain that is the local landmark, giving the appearance of fungus over its peaks.
My game plan was to just cruise until I got to Tucson, 60 miles north. I did a great job for the first 20 miles, averaging 17.5 mph, keeping my cadence high and the perceived effort low. I practiced something new, stretching on the bike. I've stretched calves and hamstrings before, but today I unclipped one foot at a time and stretched my quads. It worked great. Amazing how comfortable I've become in the saddle.
But then, I started to feel really good and opened up a bit breaking 28 mph on a flat straight away. DOH! No biggie though, it was shortly before my first planned stop at about mile 35.
At the break my average speed was up to 18.5 mph, even with the stretching. The gas station where I stopped had water, gatorade and a snickers bar waiting for me. A quick trip to the bathroom, munched the snickers and filled up the drained bottles, then down the road I went.
Over the next 25 miles I flew. There were quite a few other riders, mostly riding in groups. The road is a two lane back road that bisects pecan groves. I was tempted to slip in behind one large group that must've been doing 30 mph. The vacuum they created as they went past me was incredible. Oh well, I was about 40 miles into a projected 84 mile ride. Next time maybe.
My average speed kept creeping up and my thighs began grumbling. I alternated drinking water, NUUN, and gatorades while balancing intake and sweat rate. It took a lot of practice to get it right. But still, I was worried that if I kept that pace I'd suffer cramping problems. I'd see how that panned out. But at mile 45 I was having doubts and not having such a great time anymore. The clouds hadn't made it this far north and the sun was HOT! My butt was getting sore and I began to labor a bit.
I made it to Tucson in just under 3 hours of riding time. It was just after 8:30 when I was rolling through old down town Tucson. The Mexican restaurants were hopping, selling their Saturday morning specials. The Mexican bakery smelled particularly tempting. I almost went in!
As I learned, you can't fly through town. The roads have a lot of debris and pot holes, stop lights, pedestrians and so on. It's my first experience riding in town. I made the most of it. I pulled over, grabbed my bag of pistachios. I coasted, largely no-hands style, for about an hour munching on pistachios. I went from old down town to new down town, through the "hippie" part of town, through old neighborhoods with lots of neat architecture, past the university and then finally into urban sprawl.
The problem I was going to have was time. I hadn't used enough. My wife was bringing a change of clothes for me but wasn't expected to be at my in-laws' home until 11:30 or so. I decided to buy another gatorade and a protein shake, and use the bathroom before taking a detour to explore some of the bike/hike routes around town. Also, I needed a restroom to dry off a bit. The heat, sweat and time in the seat would work their evil if I wasn't proactive.
I met some riders who were resting and pouring water on their heads. It turned out they were heading past where I could catch a bike route. AWESOME. We chatted for a few miles and went our separate ways.
The bike routes were so unbelievably awesome. Mile 70 was better than mile 20! The bike route trailed along side a river, winding and rolling. Lots of wildlife darting here and there kept me distracted from my chaffing rear. Sadly, after 8 miles, the fun was up. I was deposited on I-10's frontage road without a bike lane. Ugh.
But, I felt so great after cruising around Tucson and taking in some nutrition that I rode to a Starbucks a few miles past my in-laws' home. On the way there, a coyote froze in front of me. He was going to cross the road but stood watching me instead. I slowed and we exchanged greetings, inter-species style.
At Starbucks I ordered an iced Americano. As I did, I suddenly was struck by my incredible INCREDIBLE stench. I operated the debit machine at arm's length out of respect for the baristas.
I made it to my in-laws house, stinky, sweaty and in my bike gear. It would take my wife another 2 hours to show up! In the mean time, the neighbors came over for lunch. I'm never socially awkward, well, never unless I'm wearing tights and stink!
Stats:
Distance: 83 miles
Distance: 83 miles
Time: 5 1/2 hours
Fluids consumed: 3 liters, and 6, 24 ounce bottles
Food: 2 gel shots, a snickers bar, a bunch of pistachios and a protein shake
Monday, June 13, 2011
Week in review
I started the week with a stupid injury and ended it with an overuse injury. So, I've learned that I probably need to increase my mileage at a slower rate.
This week I did the pushup challenge twice, totaling 1220 push ups. (The challenge: Pick an easy number of pushups to do, like 10. Do that number at the top of every minute for an hour.) I worked out my core 4 days this week, and lifted weights twice. I played tennis for a few hours total, swam, did a 20 mile bike ride and ran 19 miles. I normally would've run more, but missed a few days because of a sprained left foot. It's getting better and is okay to run on now.
In the mean time, the 19 miles I did run were very hilly. I injured my big toe on my right foot about a month ago (slammed it into a tree stump on a trail run and took a nice spill). It's definitely effected my running form and I think hastened a soleus injury on the same leg. So, this week, I'm going to do two runs, 3 miles or less and all on flat ground, all easy exertion. That is, until Saturday morning, when I will run a timed 2 miles at the track. I'm excited to see what improvements have been made over the past 3 weeks.
Also, while I would not declare myself as having broken through a lengthy plateau just yet, there are significant signs that I have. I started the week at about 213 and this morning was 211, though I've been down to 208 during the middle of the week.
This coming week I am going to ride 70 to 90 miles on the bike and swim at least one day. Today I went on a 33 mile ride and had a good time. I saw 4 deer and a javelina and a dead hawk and a dead owl! Weird. I averaged 16 mph, but man, I've lost a lot of the juice I had on the bike since April. Still, all is good.
This week I did the pushup challenge twice, totaling 1220 push ups. (The challenge: Pick an easy number of pushups to do, like 10. Do that number at the top of every minute for an hour.) I worked out my core 4 days this week, and lifted weights twice. I played tennis for a few hours total, swam, did a 20 mile bike ride and ran 19 miles. I normally would've run more, but missed a few days because of a sprained left foot. It's getting better and is okay to run on now.
In the mean time, the 19 miles I did run were very hilly. I injured my big toe on my right foot about a month ago (slammed it into a tree stump on a trail run and took a nice spill). It's definitely effected my running form and I think hastened a soleus injury on the same leg. So, this week, I'm going to do two runs, 3 miles or less and all on flat ground, all easy exertion. That is, until Saturday morning, when I will run a timed 2 miles at the track. I'm excited to see what improvements have been made over the past 3 weeks.
Also, while I would not declare myself as having broken through a lengthy plateau just yet, there are significant signs that I have. I started the week at about 213 and this morning was 211, though I've been down to 208 during the middle of the week.
This coming week I am going to ride 70 to 90 miles on the bike and swim at least one day. Today I went on a 33 mile ride and had a good time. I saw 4 deer and a javelina and a dead hawk and a dead owl! Weird. I averaged 16 mph, but man, I've lost a lot of the juice I had on the bike since April. Still, all is good.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Knowledge Versus Belief
You can believe something without knowing it. You can know something without believing it. Further, there are different types of belief.
Example: I believe my wife will want this color.
Example: I know you just said it, but I can't believe it.
I want to share an anecdote that exposes the difference between belief and knowledge on a more personal level. I hope that you can get something out of this story.
I knew I could run two miles in less than 11:54. No doubt in my mind. It wasn't bravado, I didn't brag to my buddies that I could and would do it. It was my goal and I knew I could do it.
How did I know? Because I was faster than people that had done it. I just needed to do it on Physical Fitness test day.
A time of eleven minutes and fifty four seconds on a two mile run earned you 100% of the points on the running section of the PT test if you were male and under 22 years old. After 22 years old, the time increased to 12:35. (Now, for comparison, the 100% time is 13:00.)
My very first 2 mile run was 14:20. I was dying the whole way, walked a lot. Man, I was out of shape. The next was two weeks later and it was 13:10. That beat the time of my drill sergeants (former Rangers in their mid-20's) and I was surprised. The next was 12:30. From then on, I never was slower than 12:30.
During basic training we'd run in ability groups. When I joined the second to fastest group (13:10), I was told I didn't belong there. But I stayed because my time qualified me to be there. I didn't stay long. I soon moved up to the next group. In that group we would run two miles in 12 minutes, and then run two more.
In Germany, my Battery Captain loved to run. He'd organize these cross country course and he and I would race. It wasn't much of a race really as I'd just stay in front of him and speed up when he moved to pass me.
Once, on a regular run, segregated by speed, he let me be the pacer. (By regular run, I mean we ran in formation, which really sucked since it was always slow.) But now, the pacer, I could change that. He warned me to keep it steady and keep us together. Screw that! I wanted to make the lungs of the other runners turn to ash and their hearts to explode.
I ran the first mile at a comfortable pace, around 7:00. I ran the second mile at 6:00. There were some fall outs and a lot of complaining. The Captain though, he was always up for a challenge. So, I ran the third mile as fast as I could, which was in the low 5 minutes. I don't know the exact time because the person with the stop watch was long gone. But he said he timed me and watched me finish the course. I turned the formation of 20 into a formation of one.
They never let me pace again.
But on test day I could never beat the 11:54. I could get 12:10, 12, 12:20...but I'd always start off too fast and bonk.
Then I turned 23. My new time for 100% score was 12:35. No problem. I could do that without issue. I dogged the run, took it easy. At the mile point the time was just over 6 minutes. No problem. I didn't push until the last half mile. I was expecting to hear 12:15 or so as I crossed the finish. But what I heard as I got closer was Sergeant Skipper (really his name) counting eleven 21, 22, 23, ... I put it in high gear and crossed at 11:30.
It occurred to me later that while I knew I could run that fast, I didn't really believe it. There was always a shadow of doubt. When running with other people, they paced me. I was right by them and had someone pushing me. On these test runs, if you were around people, you were two minutes slower than I was.
Maybe I absorbed the physical impression I made on people. That is that my ideal body was is in the mid 150's, but I was 210, had no neck and had legs like tree stumps. The impressions was, "This guy must really lumber down the track." Maybe it's because I knew I didn't deserve to run that fast. A lot of people I knew, and helped, worked really hard and couldn't get any where close to me.
The real puzzle is, why do we sometimes perform better when our confidence is high? When you know how have done and believe you'll do it again, your chances of success are great.
Now I know that for people that really run, 11:30 isn't much to brag about. But for me, it is and was a big deal. That's my personal best. It's a time I'd sorely love to beat now. But now, I know pain a lot better than I did then. Now, I don't know if I can do it. So the belief is of the sort that's just a guess. Believe this, I'm going to find out.
I used what I learned in this experience to better perform on my first (and to date, only) road bike race. I had a goal pace and I kept that pace on all training rides, always. Only once did I drop below that pace and there were some incredible conditions slowing me down. I knew that nobody would be on their best race in those conditions.
So on race day, I was confident. I knew I could meet my goal and I believed I would. Why did I believe it? Because I'd done it again and again and again. It was never easy, but I never gave in. I knew that to meet my goal when it was official, I had to do it when it wasn't official. It was the training that counted, not the performance! The race makes it official for everybody else. But I knew I would do it because I always had.
When trying to run 11:54, I knew I could do it because I had the potential. I didn't believe it because I had not yet realized that potential. I hadn't done it when it really counted. It counts in training.
Example: I believe my wife will want this color.
Example: I know you just said it, but I can't believe it.
I want to share an anecdote that exposes the difference between belief and knowledge on a more personal level. I hope that you can get something out of this story.
I knew I could run two miles in less than 11:54. No doubt in my mind. It wasn't bravado, I didn't brag to my buddies that I could and would do it. It was my goal and I knew I could do it.
How did I know? Because I was faster than people that had done it. I just needed to do it on Physical Fitness test day.
A time of eleven minutes and fifty four seconds on a two mile run earned you 100% of the points on the running section of the PT test if you were male and under 22 years old. After 22 years old, the time increased to 12:35. (Now, for comparison, the 100% time is 13:00.)
My very first 2 mile run was 14:20. I was dying the whole way, walked a lot. Man, I was out of shape. The next was two weeks later and it was 13:10. That beat the time of my drill sergeants (former Rangers in their mid-20's) and I was surprised. The next was 12:30. From then on, I never was slower than 12:30.
During basic training we'd run in ability groups. When I joined the second to fastest group (13:10), I was told I didn't belong there. But I stayed because my time qualified me to be there. I didn't stay long. I soon moved up to the next group. In that group we would run two miles in 12 minutes, and then run two more.
In Germany, my Battery Captain loved to run. He'd organize these cross country course and he and I would race. It wasn't much of a race really as I'd just stay in front of him and speed up when he moved to pass me.
Once, on a regular run, segregated by speed, he let me be the pacer. (By regular run, I mean we ran in formation, which really sucked since it was always slow.) But now, the pacer, I could change that. He warned me to keep it steady and keep us together. Screw that! I wanted to make the lungs of the other runners turn to ash and their hearts to explode.
I ran the first mile at a comfortable pace, around 7:00. I ran the second mile at 6:00. There were some fall outs and a lot of complaining. The Captain though, he was always up for a challenge. So, I ran the third mile as fast as I could, which was in the low 5 minutes. I don't know the exact time because the person with the stop watch was long gone. But he said he timed me and watched me finish the course. I turned the formation of 20 into a formation of one.
They never let me pace again.
But on test day I could never beat the 11:54. I could get 12:10, 12, 12:20...but I'd always start off too fast and bonk.
Then I turned 23. My new time for 100% score was 12:35. No problem. I could do that without issue. I dogged the run, took it easy. At the mile point the time was just over 6 minutes. No problem. I didn't push until the last half mile. I was expecting to hear 12:15 or so as I crossed the finish. But what I heard as I got closer was Sergeant Skipper (really his name) counting eleven 21, 22, 23, ... I put it in high gear and crossed at 11:30.
It occurred to me later that while I knew I could run that fast, I didn't really believe it. There was always a shadow of doubt. When running with other people, they paced me. I was right by them and had someone pushing me. On these test runs, if you were around people, you were two minutes slower than I was.
Maybe I absorbed the physical impression I made on people. That is that my ideal body was is in the mid 150's, but I was 210, had no neck and had legs like tree stumps. The impressions was, "This guy must really lumber down the track." Maybe it's because I knew I didn't deserve to run that fast. A lot of people I knew, and helped, worked really hard and couldn't get any where close to me.
The real puzzle is, why do we sometimes perform better when our confidence is high? When you know how have done and believe you'll do it again, your chances of success are great.
Now I know that for people that really run, 11:30 isn't much to brag about. But for me, it is and was a big deal. That's my personal best. It's a time I'd sorely love to beat now. But now, I know pain a lot better than I did then. Now, I don't know if I can do it. So the belief is of the sort that's just a guess. Believe this, I'm going to find out.
I used what I learned in this experience to better perform on my first (and to date, only) road bike race. I had a goal pace and I kept that pace on all training rides, always. Only once did I drop below that pace and there were some incredible conditions slowing me down. I knew that nobody would be on their best race in those conditions.
So on race day, I was confident. I knew I could meet my goal and I believed I would. Why did I believe it? Because I'd done it again and again and again. It was never easy, but I never gave in. I knew that to meet my goal when it was official, I had to do it when it wasn't official. It was the training that counted, not the performance! The race makes it official for everybody else. But I knew I would do it because I always had.
When trying to run 11:54, I knew I could do it because I had the potential. I didn't believe it because I had not yet realized that potential. I hadn't done it when it really counted. It counts in training.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Road Bike
I went on a really fun trail run Friday afternoon with my youngest daughter. It was about a half hour run through a narrow canyon. We saw a tarantula, snake and had a stink bug squishing contest as we ran. It was a lot of fun. My knees though, not so happy with the result.
That run motivated me to buy a road bike. So I picked up a Fuji 24 speed bicycle. I've never ridden a bike for exercise before I purchased the bike. But I'm excited about the prospect of being able to do some work with lower incident of injury while I lose weight. I am going to cut the running to a maximum of 2 days a week for now...may not run at all this week. I need to get my knees some time to heal!
I also need to continue to improve my diet. For the past two weeks my lunches have been carefully designed with calories and nutrition in mind. My breakfasts have been done in a similar fashion. It's dinner that gets me in a bit of trouble, but not too bad. The real killer is liquid carbs...AKA beer. I love beer. However, I'm NOT going to have a beer for the rest of this month! I need to drop some pounds and that's the most obvious thing to cut. Wish me luck!
That run motivated me to buy a road bike. So I picked up a Fuji 24 speed bicycle. I've never ridden a bike for exercise before I purchased the bike. But I'm excited about the prospect of being able to do some work with lower incident of injury while I lose weight. I am going to cut the running to a maximum of 2 days a week for now...may not run at all this week. I need to get my knees some time to heal!
I also need to continue to improve my diet. For the past two weeks my lunches have been carefully designed with calories and nutrition in mind. My breakfasts have been done in a similar fashion. It's dinner that gets me in a bit of trouble, but not too bad. The real killer is liquid carbs...AKA beer. I love beer. However, I'm NOT going to have a beer for the rest of this month! I need to drop some pounds and that's the most obvious thing to cut. Wish me luck!
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