carbing it up

I did 40 miles the other day. At 15mph. Huzzah!
SLOW, I know. But for a couch desk potato-dough ball on a single-speed, I’m fairly proud of myself. The hills around Dover can be a little discouraging [although the descents are incredibly fun], and at one point, about 10 feet from the top of a nasty hill, I was honestly about to tip over. I considered [gasp!] getting off for a split second before crushing the thought and putting my [entire] back into it. My glutes are still feeling it.

I’ve mentioned this before but this past week, I definitely felt stronger on my rides. The afternoon timing might have helped [embarrassing disclosure: that early morning ride I did last week? 12mph. LOL.], but I think it might be something even more basic:
Food.
I remember when I first started to talk to competitive cyclists about my desire to ride longer, harder, and faster; one consistent piece of advice was to eat. Eat before you’re hungry; once your hunger kicks in, you’re done. I believed it, but only thought that that was relevant to those in serious training. I was a newbie on a cheapie bike. That kind of advice just seemed cut out for those who rode 200+ miles a week.
So I exercised caution; bringing food on my rides but not touching it unless I was really hungry. The inability to ride comfortably with only one hand [or none] on the bars meant that eating = stopping. And, come on, who wants to stop when they’re in the middle of a scenic ride? I rode slowly and did super short rides at first [we all start somewhere, right?], but those rides really kicked my ass.

These past few days, though, I’ve been eating. Before, during, and after getting out of the saddle. Throwing out the old fear of carbs, I’ve made sure I’m eating something easily digestible before jumping on the bike. An hour into the ride, I’ll pop a piece of a Clif Bar or a quarter of a Larabar into my mouth and make sure I’m chewing something every 20-30 minutes thereafter. Afterwards, I’m sating my hunger with yogurt, some Kashi Go Lean, and a giant orange. I even had some animal crackers the other day. Oh yes, I love me my carbs.
But my adoration of sugar aside, I’ve seen results from my inaccurate, subjective study. My legs feel better and I’m not puttering out of steam on the way home. On Wednesday, I started chomping on my [favorite apple pie] Larabar 40 minutes into the ride, even though I was still somewhat full from lunch and not hungry in the least. Not only did I complete that 40 mile loop faster than I ever have, I didn’t realize that I had easily careened past that one stretch of road that sometimes makes me want to cry until I was nearly home.

That’s not to say I’m fast, but I’m faster. And if that 40 miler is any proof, my legs are somehow capable of pedaling faster for longer. This obviously doesn’t give me license to hit up Dunks on the way home and then swing by Party Favors for some cupcakes, but I’m not going to sabotage my rides by going hungry.
Because honestly, there’s nothing worse than realizing that you’re starving, you have no food, and you’re about 20 miles from home. Especially when you’re only running one gear.

fighting cars and hamstrings

Andddd it’s back to being gorgeous out, which means it’s back to riding to Dover every chance I get, even with my gimp leg.
I even I got up at 5.30am to ride before class yesterday, checked the temperature, decided it was too cold, and promptly went back to sleep. I stretched between class and meetings, then hustled home as fast as I could to get my ride on.
I chopped up a Clif bar into bite size pieces, threw them in a plastic bag, packed an emergency Larabar, and was out the door with a solid ride planned. With three days off the bike, I was sorely tempted to do a good 3 hours. But the rational side of me kicking in for once, I compromised on doing at least 2.5 hours in the saddle.

Once I got going, I predictably didn’t want to stop. I felt like I was flying. Even with stronger winds and that leg, I barely got out of my saddle on the climbs and rocketed down the flat stretches. There’s no way I’ve gotten stronger in the past week alone, but it felt like it. Smoothly dodging the by-now familiar potholes and stretches of sand on the shoulder, I took the lane at one point to avoid a giant puddle. I glanced back before I did and assumed that the car behind me would slow down.
It didn’t. I felt the metal of the side door nick my elbow as it sped past, way faster that it should have and way too close for comfort. I yelled, tried to get a plate number, wished I had my U-lock so I could throw it at the driver, and slowed down a little bit. I thanked my rollers for beating into me the ability to hold a steady line, then proceeded to forget all about my little auto encounter because, hell, I had hills to climb.
I resumed my trajectory to Dover; whipping through now-familiar streets and scenery; with the bright sun on my back, I forgot all about taking pictures. But when snot started to flood my nose, I did remember everyone’s advice: I held down one nostril and snorted shamelessly. Success! I did that two more times and only once did a small splatter of nose goo get on my thigh.

I forced myself to turn back after 1 hour 15minutes, just in case it got dark too quickly. Back home, though completely immersed in that priceless feeling of utter exhaustion, I forced myself to take a quick walk to Trader Joe’s to stretch my hamstrings. With running shoes on my feet, but still in cycling mode, I completed the otherwise boring outfit with my new vintage cap, courtesy of Mike.
I may not be able to fight quite like the Badger [yet!], or demolish everything in my path a la Merckx, but hey, a girl can pretend! Next step: getting a power meter heart rate monitor like Team La Vie Claire in the 80s...?

snotty but laid back

A friend commented the other day that he thought I was from the Pacific Northwest.
“You’re so laid back,” he said.
I burst out laughing. Me? Laid back? Yeah, laid back like bat shit crazy’s laid back. Still, oddly flattered, I brandished my compliment du jour later that night to Mike. His response:
“.....WHAT???? Does this kid even know you? Hahahahahahhaa! You, ‘laid back.’ Hahahahahaha...”
I told him to shut his face.

True, that compliment isn’t accurate, and was the farthest thing from the truth a few weeks ago. I had given up on the rollers; even Dragonforce couldn’t coax me on my track bike. Bored and frustrated, I was pretty much going stir crazy. The weather outside looked bleak and miserable. Riding bikes had ceased to be fun about two months ago. Spring didn’t look like it was going to make an appearance anytime soon. My middle name was “Doom and Gloom.”
But the weather turned on Saturday and for the first time in my [fairly short cycling] life, I did solid 2 hour rides on 5 out of the past 6 days. Fully aware of my finicky muscles, I rolled out my IT bands every few hours after riding, did some awesome yoga stretches, and even tried stretching in class. Miraculously, my IT bands didn’t break in half, my calves are still functioning, and my tendons haven’t been torn into itty bitty pieces. An ever-so-slightly lowered saddle fixed the aching hamstrings after the second day. Considering how out of shape I am - remember, two weeks off those rollers? - the fact that I’m capable of standing right now is pretty impressive.

The almost daily rides also meant that I’ve had that buzzy feeling of euphoric exhaustion all week [and a ravenous appetite]. Too tired post-ride to do much else than hold a highlighter, my frantic mood swings were unusually subdued. I was almost laid back. Mellow, even.
My rides were the same way, too, which is something you might expect, as they were far from long or fast. Sure, they were challenging enough to make my doughy legs work for it, but there was a lot of no-handed riding in there, too. And all week, I got to pat myself on the back for simply riding. Yay!
Everything on my rides was awesome...or is awesome, until the whole snot thing starts. For 80% of my ride, I’m sniffling or smearing snot around my face with my sleeve. I’m totally okay with being gross by myself, but my faucet-like nostrils are distracting, to say the least. Finally fed up with it yesterday, I looked up and down the street, made sure no cyclists were in sight, and tried my first snot rocket.
It splattered all over my right thigh. I’m not even going to tell you how obscene it looked.
If any of you have tips on how to master that elusive nostril-clearing technique, please let me know. I can really use help on this one.

early bird

So I did the absurd yesterday. Somehow, I decided it would be an awesome idea to get up at 5.30am and be out the door, on my bike, by 6.30am. Do an easy, breezy 2 hours, shower, pack my bag and head to school for a 10am class.
Um...what?

I almost didn’t. Seriously. I slept in until 5.45am, then had to choke down breakfast [I mean it was delicious - see yesterday’s post - but eating anything before the sun is fully up is kind of hard]. I ended up leaving around 6.45am, still groggy and crusty-eyed.
You know how they say that the first 5 minutes of anything is the hardest part? But like once you get into it, it’s okay? Apparently, as applied to yours truly, “first 5 minutes” means “first 30 minutes.” I was completely hating myself, my ideas, decisions, and legs. The voice in my head was all “but it’s not even 7am yet...! What are you doing? Wahhh wahhhhhhh wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh--“ And then I hit a hill and I didn’t have the energy to complain and kick myself while trying to climb on my one gear. Because keeping your bike upright at 4mph is actually harder than you’d think.

Oh and you know how I said I’d ride 2 hours? Yeah, it turned out to be closer to 2hr30min. It took a while to stretch my legs [see above], and even though I promised myself I’d take it easy, I felt pretty drained on the way back. My feet went numb from the toe clips and wind, snot was everywhere. But the reward of the post-ride shower kept me pedaling and shooting down the hills.
I got home later than I planned [9.15am! Eeeep!], and just barely squeezed in the shower and eyeliner-ing while packing up a smoothie, my lunch, books, and laptop. I stretched briefly before I hopped right back on the bike.
It took me about 20 minutes to get to school. It’s 3 miles away.
Ahahahaha....um....yeah...

power morning

It's 6.15am. When/how/why did I think it would be a good idea to squeeze in a ride this morning?

I have some oatmeal mixed with oat bran, ground flaxseed, cinnamon, and a drizzle of maple syrup to start my engine. And coffee, of course.
See you on the flip siiiide...

sunny unpreparedness

Sorry for the radio silence, peeps! There just really wasn’t much going on last week; I had planned a [geared] ride while I was down in the city, and then it rained. Which sounds like the lamest excuse on the planet but a) Mike only has one set of fenders and b) I lack the proper gear to ride in wet conditions. I did push-ups and Pilates instead.
And then I came back to Boston, fully prepared to hole up in my apartment until cabin fever had me running around my block, screaming a la Linda on Intervention [a.k.a. that Asian woman that was addicted to those painkiller lollipops and who was absolutely insane...did anyone else see that episode? BECAUSE IT WAS INSANE]. I pretended I wanted to be on the rollers again. I tried really hard to act like a law student and get work done. I sighed a lot.
But then...but then...it got warm...!

Like warm enough that I’ll have to quit trying to even call myself a “cyclist” if I didn’t ride. Even if the whole concept of riding outdoors for more than 30min has, by this point, become completely foreign to me, it seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, there wasn’t going to be much wind. Which meant I could probably survive riding some short distance and then pat myself on the back for not wanting to die afterwards. Perfect!
And then I realized I left my shoes, only light windproof jacket, and only light pair of gloves in NYC. Oops.
But realizing that that is the most ridiculous excuse that I’ve come up with thus far, I made up my mind: I was going to go on that damn ride, regardless of whether I looked like a poor hipster or not. Lack of a proper jersey meant that all my tools went into my Baileyworks bag, which went over a black fleece zip up, layered over my long sleeve Underarmour. Shorts went on under Underarmour leggings, paired with Sidi socks, sneakers [um...yeah...don't hate], and my NYC Velo cap. And I was like damnnn, yo, this is like the most pro thing I’ve ever worn, in my life...!

Pro-ed out, I pointed the front wheel southwest towards Dover and did a super easy 2 hours. I waved at some peeps, got some nods and sunglass-ed smiles from other peeps, and still got my ass handed to me on the easy hills. It was refreshing, though, if only in that it wasn’t freezing out and I was perfectly fine in my completely unprepared state.
Of course, I forgot about bringing food. I was starving by the time I got home but a smoothie craving demanded I run to Trader Joe’s to stock up on yogurt. Actually I was starving 1hr30min into my ride but I just really wanted that smoothie. Yes, I thought about the potential embarrassment of walking into a grocery store in the most revealing outfit I own, but somehow I found the idea of spending most of my morning without underwear on mildly appealing.

So 5 hours after I ate breakfast, I blended the shit out of some nonfat greek yogurt [yeah, I'm not vegan anymore], almond milk, hemp protein powder [the unflavored kind that sort of tastes like ground up rope from Bob’s Red Mill...don’t worry, you can’t really taste it], half a banana, and some frozen peach slices. It was delicious, regardless of how disgusting it looks in that picture. And then I inhaled lunch.
I spent the rest of the day rolling out my IT bands and trying not to fall over from sheer exhaustion. Just so I could do it all over again on Sunday, a little more prepared that time around. But more on that tomorrow...
[Please tell me all you Boston people rode this weekend?!]