Keeping Pace

Keeping Pace

More on Foxy’s

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Doing an organized ride is vastly different from running a race. There are no spectators out cheering you on. There are, however, plenty of cars who will be pissed at you if you block the road. Oh, yeah, the roads aren’t closed. Water and nutrition are available, but don’t expect anyone to stand by the side of the road handing it out. Finishes are not anything “official” meaning, if you don’t report that you’re off the course, nobody will be out looking for you. If you do come in to say you’ve finished, they might smile and say congratulations. They may simply direct you to the food.

They are alike in that the fun-factor and/or challenge level is up to you and how you approach the event. Think it’s going to be impossibly hard, and it will be. Go into it with the mindset that you’re in for a beautiful day, you’ll have a better chance of seeing the beauty all around you.

And when your back is hurting with 40-50 miles of steep climbs ahead, a few works of encouragement, and a laugh when you admit that you’re thinking of going “metric” is all it takes to keep your chin up. This is especially true when the turn off for the metric century is 20+ miles behind you.

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Got skills?

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It’s hard to believe that my efforts to increase my TITS didn’t even begin until June. That’s two solid months of focused cycling… or only two months to learn a hell-of-a-lotta cycling stuff.

No matter how you look at it, I’ve done pretty well for wiggling my way into this new sport. Seriously! My level of comfort on the road has drastically improved. I still have a healthy respect for cars, crotch-rockets, hummers, and giant Winnebago’s with boat trailers in tow. Still, I have a level of confidence that wasn’t there before.

I’ve acquired skills that I *never* thought I’d master. I can quickly (relative term) click into my pedals 90% of the time. Although yesterday’s slip of the foot left me seeing stars and cursing for about 2 full minutes. Also, I have become comfortable enough to suck the back of The Man’s tire to get a little reprieve from the headwinds. I’m not as comfortable doing this with others but I’m working on that. And… This is the BEST! I *can* blow a snot-rocket without soiling myself or my bike!

I got it down. I am so ready.

Well?

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You know how, when you take on a new hobby or sport, you can sometimes get all gun-ho-let’s-go about it? It’s easy to do. Perhaps you stick with it. Perhaps you get burnt out. OR perhaps you take it to the next level, and the next, and the next until…you get injured. There is such thing as too much of a good thing.

Let’s say it’s a sport we are speaking of. Maybe, after you body scolds you for overdoing it, you give up your new-found love. Maybe you make adjustments and return to the sport with a wiser, more balanced, approach. OR maybe you ignore your body’s complaints, tell it to man-up, and continue what you’re doing.

We’ve all done it at one point or another. For me, my plans for the Boston to Big Sur Challenge took priority over the wiser, more balanced approach to running. A careful look at my exercise log reveals many entries where I complained of discomfort and/or pain (although mild) in my right ankle. And although I don’t regret moving forward with my [possibly] once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something truly fabulous, I wonder if a change earlier in my training might have prevented me from having to break from running for so long.

It isn’t always easy to discern impending injury from the little aches and pains of taking on a new sport or, in my case, taking marathon training up to the next level. Things most likely would have been different if these little complaints were more obviously signs of impending doom.

Now, with no reason to push through, I find myself backing off from running with only the mildest of complaint when, on my bike, I clearly feel the sore, fatigued muscular complaint of my low back. I know that my prior injuries to the area — the automobile accident (rear ending) of 2006 and bulged disc injury during my 2nd pregnancy — leave the area more vulnerable to subsequent injuries. Still, I focused on the ankle even though I felt, deep down, that there was nothing wrong at all with my ankle.

And…was it warranted?
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All Caught Up

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On the return leg of a post-work ride, another cyclist rode up beside me at a light. I gave my customary “hey,” thereby acknowledging his existence and fishing for a read on how gun-ho he would be when the light changed to green. Much to my surprise, the response was “Hi Julie.” I immediately recognized his voice to be that of Mark, a dear friend and ex-boss. Mark commutes to work 4 times each week — 30 miles in each direction. As intimidating as that is, I really wanted to get caught up on the goings on in his life.

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When the light shone green, he took off and I, seizing the moment. I kicked it into high gear and peddled madly so as to stay with him. Chatting as we went, we kept the quick pace as light after light signaled us to keep going. The streak of green lights was jaw-dropping long and my legs were starting to feel the confirmatory burn that signals a killer workout. It was awesome.

 

When we were all done catching up on life and business, we snapped the all-important photo, and went our separate ways. Still caught up in the moment, I rode off feeling all-inspired, and purposely passed my turn for a few more miles of steep hills — just because.

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