Paying Off!

As you all know, I decided to hire a trainer about 3 months ago (Ashley Powell - www.catup.com - he's f-ing awesome). Several factors went into this decision:

1) I wanted to rehab my knee the right way

2) I wanted to keep my cycling future injury free

3) I felt like I had some natural aptitude on the bike, and wanted some guidance to tap into it safely (see one and two).

When I started out, the goal was to just get back on the bike and rebuild up my endurance. The rides were short compared to pre-injury length, and went by time instead of distance, a new concept for me. After a few weeks of nothing but endurance, we went on a ride that established my training zones.

Again, a heartrate monitor was a completely new ball game for me. I felt like a leashed dog, constantly yanked up short right when I wanted to chase, and I saw my average speeds come plummeting down from where I was used to seeing them.

Next step were tempo rides, first with 20 minute, then with 30 minute intervals that put my HR into Zone 3. These were hard, finally, or at least harder than usual. I could stretch out and go. The longest was 3x30 (number of intervals x time of interval) with 10 minutes of rest between intervals. I called Ashley after that week and told him how well it had gone. I felt pleased with myself.

His response? "Ok, now we can really get going."

Cue AT interval initiation.

He explained that these intervals were meant to condition my body to get used to being just slightly anaerobic for longer periods of time. Not hard enough to go "full gas," but almost that hard. Hard enough that my muscles burned juuuust slightly, but not enough to completely wipe them out. For an analogy, I was to imagine a sink with the water running fast enough to pool a little at the bottom before going down the drain, but not fast enough to overflow entirely and spill over the edges. I was also to down a can of soda immediately following the final interval. "Carry it with you in your jersey and crack it open right after you're done. Literally."

The zone? 167-173.

"In two months," Ashley said, "you're going to be a completely different cyclist."

I started the intervals with 4x10s, with 10 minutes of rest in between. And it was tough. I remember going home after the first workout completely wiped out. But AT intervals I did, twice that week.

I did two weeks of 4X10. Then it went up to 5x10. Then 5X12. Then 6x10.

Each week I became a bit more apprehensive of the intervals. Why? Because each week they became slightly harder to do. One time I couldn't get my HR up to the required zone, no matter how hard I tried, and I returned to the car put down, drained, and pissed.

At the same time, though, my average speed for the endurance rides slowly started to creep up. 16.5, 16.8, and then I was regularly getting into the low 17s. The low 17s and never leaving the endurance HR zone.

When it came to the 6x10s, it was raining out, and I was required to borrow a friend's trainer to get the job done. Each time I had to ramp up the intensity, I had a small doubt that this time I wouldn't be able to do it. I was too worn out, too tired. Then once it was up, it was nothing but concentration to keep it there. I still wasn't going "full gas," but if my mind slipped for a second or my cadence went down, that was it. HR went below the 167 line.

Then I got sick. My body said, "ENOUGH!" and caught a cold in a crowded movie theater.

Fortunately, this happened during a scheduled rest week.

In any training, the rest week is the magical week during which you actually get stronger. The training weeks? That's designed to wear you down, not build you up. When you rest, your body springs back from the brink you placed it upon, remaking your muscles and revamping your cardio system to handle the craziness you obviously insist on placing upon it.

Or at least that's the theory.

Last week, I came back for more intervals. Harder intervals. 2x20 intervals with 15 rest between.

I started out in dread, remembering the constant effort of a few weeks ago, and imagining trying to stretch that effort into 20 minute efforts.

Then I started.

And I thought my HR monitor on the new Garmin was busted. Why? Because it was so much easier to establish, and then maintain, my HR. Easy enough that I could actually think about other things for seconds at a time, easy enough that I didn't have to look down every two seconds just to make sure it wasn't slipping.

I rode with two Garmins (new and old) the next day, and sure enough, both were reading the exact same numbers.

This week, I was presented with two challenges. The first, a 2x25 AT interval workout, the second, a new HR zone: 170-175.

Yesterday, I climbed aboard the trainer and started pedaling, with the intention of giving the new HR zone a shot, but not being disappointed if I couldn't do it.

But I could. And without any extra effort. 173/174, no problem. 25 minutes? I honestly felt like I could have done 30.

Which is good, because next week, I may have to do 30.

So what does all of this mean?

It means that, Hallelujah! Training works! It's actually paying off! I am, as promised, a new cyclist! It means that the HR monitor no longer a leash, but a friend to help me along the way. It means that on group rides, I can watch the main group pull away with no blow to my ego, since I trust my training schedule and know that saving energy one day means I have that much more energy to go where I need it.

That being said, I shall close with a small anecdote:

Tuesday, I headed out for the Farmer's Market social ride at 11am. It's a ride that's supposed to average 16/17, but usually, there's a guy (you know..."that" guy) who insists on pushing the pace slightly. So this time, it was more like 18-ish. At times during the ride, I saw him get down in the drops, head to the front, and up the pace for no real reason. I didn't join in. I saw him hammer up hills and take much of the group with him. I didn't join in.

On the way home, I found myself directly behind him. About a mile from home, he decided to turn on the afterburners and sprint, hoping to drop us all and ride in triumphant.

Not a chance.

I jumped up out of the saddle, shifted into high gear, and chased.

I sprinted at 31.6 miles an hour, according to the Garmin. A solo sprint speed that, three months ago, would have been impossible.

Sure, my HR spiked up to 168.

But it was totally worth it.

A Very Strange Paintbrush Indeed

Before you read this post, there is a bit of homework involved.

Cut and paste the link below. Watch the whole thing. If you're pressed for time, at least watch the first three minutes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj6ho1-G6tw

Finished? Good.

I saw this link via a friend's facebook page this morning. I watched it in awe, of course. I ogled at the tricks, the control, the precision. Obviously, this Danny MacAskill character has some skills.

Later today at work, I brought it up on the big screen out front so some mountain bike customers could watch it. Usually when you are at a bike store and you play a video on youtube, the response is lukewarm. But this time, everyone was silent. Riveted. The only sound was an occasional "wow." The handling of the bike was nothing less than masterful.

Again tonight at home, I pulled it up and went through it. And this time, finally, I saw it for what it was:

Art.

Here is a person who is using the bicycle as his medium and his surroundings as the canvas. Each sequence of movements is a paint stroke, or a sentence; a conversation with the bench, or the monument, or the fence, or whatever else he happens to be in the space. There is a constant interaction. He isn't limited by what surrounds him in any way, quite the opposite: he's inspired by it.

Show me an artist who doesn't have the same types of interactions, conversations, or inspirations when crafting their work. What artist doesn't invoke an image or a thought, what author doesn't pull from life, what musician doesn't try to capture the feeling of an object?

Which is yet another reason why I love this damn sport.

Of course, a bicycle is an odd type of paintbrush. And of course, not everyone who rides a bike is an artist, just like not everyone who draws a picture is an artist. But trials riding isn't done for the purpose of physical exertion. You aren't going to be racing, or doing intervals. And while you may compete, the competition is to see who can create the most exciting composition, not to see who is mightier. It's to see who can become the most cohesive part of the bicycle, who can internalize it the most seamlessly. What other sport, honestly, can have the same niche that trials fills? The same improvisational, skillful, and yes, beautiful relationship between person and equipment and place?

Exactly.

And let's face it. Who wouldn't want to be able to do that, have that sort of complete and automatic internalized skill, that it happens seemingly without thought; an instinctual comfort with the bike?

The good thing about bikes, though, is that if you ride them enough, if you practice enough, you can be functionally comfortable and natural on them. Not an artist, but at least an amateur, able to glide around a trail or remove your arm warmers in the middle of the hammerfest or track stand at the stoplight. Everyone can get on and spin in circles and move from point A to point B. I am living proof of that. Not everyone can sit on their top tube and touch the ground while cruising down the road at 17 mph. It is this distinction that separates someone who bike rides and someone who rides with their bikes.

It is the "with" that is special, that can elevate sport to art.

Think I'm full of it?

Go watch the clip again.

Now try to say the same thing.

Rules

This week is the first "optional" week in my training. Easy way to sum it up: everything is optional. To a point. My rides are kept in order through the following rules:

1) You are only allowed to ride for fun. If you don't feel like riding, don't ride.

2) You are only allowed to not ride for 3 days. Then you have to ride.

3) You are not allowed to do anything that is "training." No efforts, no times intervals, nada.

4) You should ride for one less day than you normally ride.

Being a rule follower extraordinaire, this week has been the most confusing for me. One of the best things about having a coach is that I don't HAVE to think about where I will ride, for how long I will ride, and what I will be doing on my rides. The only real rule is"follow the program." That I can do.

But when the rule is to "have fun"? That's a little too grey for my black/white self.

As difficult as these rules are to follow, though, they are perhaps the most important ones to think about.

First off, I'm sick, which complicates things because there really isn't ANYTHING that's fun to do when you're sick except lay on the couch watching Hulu and reading books whilst sipping tea.

Second off, I've had to think about what IS fun when I ride. What makes cycling fun? For me?

Third off, there is no third off, but lists sound better in trios than pairs.

Riding with friends would definitely be the top on the list. Not so much a large groups ride, but a small group of people that you would also invite out to a movie. There is something about riding with people you know and trust, people with whom you can cruise down a flat road one minute, and then chit chat about life the next. A group who will not see a hill and automatically also see an invitation to hammer. A wheel you feel confident sucking onto.

The next fun thing on the bike is being epic. This encompasses many different types of rides, for sure, but a good example would be a large organized ride with sag stations, in which the ride's purpose centers around epic-ness. At the end of this ride, you have energy to do nothing else but stagger from your bike and start eating whatever is in site and is edible. Following this, you get a massage. You talk to your fellow riders about average speeds and what beasts you all are, and then you go home and fall onto the couch in a coma.

The next fun thing on the bike is exploring new roads, especially when it's as gorgeous out as it is now. The best time for road exploration is mid-day, when traffic is low and the sun is high. Bring lots of water, and be prepared to get lost. (Note: also bring your cell phone).

The next fun thing on the bike, for me, and this sounds lame but please remember I am somewhat of a Hermione type (yes, that's a harry potter reference), but the next fun thing on the bike is training. I like to train. I like to follow the plan, do the intervals, accomplish the checklist, because I know it all goes towards the larger goal of becoming a better rider. To that end, the endurance rides, the ones where I slog along the same route in the morning before work, those are actually at least a little joyous. I go home, I plug in my Garmin and dump it, and voila! Evidence of dedication to my training plan. That is fun.

Fun is different for everyone, of course. A lot of the things that other people would jump at the chance to do, like mountain biking, I steer away from due to the anxiety it currently produces. Some people find the idea of training an antithesis to cycling enjoyment. Some people crave hills and climbs. Some people are loners, and love the solitude of the open road.

So while this week has been minimal in terms of physical stress, it has given my mental aptitude a run for my money. I think being sick has messed up my overall impression of what the week can really be like, since my nose feels like raw meat and my legs are clearly not getting all of the rebuilding attention they deserve from my rebuilding resources. In the weeks ahead, though, as I am back to "training," I'm going to do some serious thinking/prep work for my next option week.

Because I am going to have fun, damnit. I am going to play by the rules.