riding obstacles

Remember when I was entertaining the idea of actually trying to race my San Jose? In a cyclocross race when I can barely run?
Yeah, that was funny. Especially because at this point, how heavy I can make my bike has become a personal challenge for me. I am piling on the pounds, yo. In fact, I’m tempted to lose 5 pounds so I can just put that back onto my bike.
But back to cyclocross, which I seem to still be chasing, despite the fact that the season ended sometime in December. I’m not careening down trails or going off-road and jumping over logs, but I climbed over enough obstacles both on and off my bike this weekend that it felt like cyclocross was right around the corner. I almost felt like I could be good at it too [except for that whole “learning how to run” thing].

Because when you’re riding in NYC, it involves a little more than rolling out of your apartment and heading southwest for however long you feel like. So, a quick recap:
9.20 - Wake up. Gauge how much I want coffee.
9.40 - Watch Mike make an Americano. Debate what I want for breakfast [this ended up being 2 slices of Ezekiel bread with almond butter and an apple].
9.45 - “You want to go on a ride, right? Where do you want to go? Wait, you want to go, right?”
10.05 - Slather on the [Chomper Body] Ballocks because why would Mike have any of their awesome women’s specific Booty Balm?
10.15 - Check the weather. Stare at my Underarmour leggings. Ask about 4 times if I should wear them “just in case.”

10.40 - Think I’m ready. Forgot to pack any food. Cut up a Larabar.
11.00 - Finally ready to leave. My bike is not. My pedals get changed.

11.15 - Headed out. Bikes are wheeled out into the hallway; we’re both in socks, holding our shoes Sidis.
11.20 - With a bike over my shoulder, awkwardly bang my way down the narrow stairwell. Put on shoes at the bottom and finally leave the building

11.40 - On our way to Central Park. Nearly get killed by two taxis and almost run over a few pedestrians. Still getting used to clipping in and out after a whole winter in toe clips.
12.00 - Laps in the park. That one hill that is not a huge deal feels like a mountain when shifting gears isn’t an option. It sort of sucks but I somehow manage to climb that motherfucker without dying. I’m notified that I make weird grunting noises.
2.14 - Headed out of the park. Decide to take the West Side Highway back.

2.30 - Ahhhh. What a view.
2.35 - Get stuck behind some hippies on bikes. The sweaty Lycra smell that I associate with cyclists is replaced by the distinctive scent of patchouli. Yum?
3.05 - Home. Done. Reconfirm that the Dover ride is way easier to actually get to.
3.10 - Climb six flights of stairs with shoes on this time, plus the bike on my shoulder. Push away thoughts of luxuries like elevators.

4.00 - Devour that Moroccan Chicken Salad that I’ve been thinking about for the past month from Atlas Cafe. YUM.
Riding a bike in NYC: not for the faint of heart or those who just sort of like it. If you want to do more than 10 miles, get ready to dodge stuff and climb stairs. Kinda like cyclocross...but without the dirt.

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.

velo bento -- march 18, 2010

Disclaimer: I don't just eat salads.
That said, I inhaled lettuce, chicken, mushrooms, and grape tomatoes covered in nooch and raspberry vinaigrette the other day. Surprisingly, it traveled well; the dressing didn't get everywhere and there was no leakage. Yay for giant tupperware containers!

While not incredibly interesting, this fueled me through a meeting, the commute home, and the first leg of my ride. Protein is amazing.

Carbs are, too. I'm off to do a quick two hours in the saddle with that [chopped up] Larabar before getting back to work. Is it weird that two hours is starting to feel sort of...short?

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...?

training for one...gear

[Thanks for the snot rocket tips, guys! I'm going to fully make use of them later this week.]
One reason why I rode nearly every day last week was the weather forecast for the weekend: it was going to rain from Saturday to Monday.
Awesome.
All for the best, probably, as my left calf is still stiff and generally refusing to cooperate. But three days of sitting around? Even the internet can’t keep me entertained for that long...!

I dutifully worked my arms and abs and then hopped on the track bike for some intervals on Saturday. Taken from last month’s Bicycling magazine, it looked something like this [and yes, I did it in those beat down shoes]:
Go all out - 5 seconds Rest - 30 seconds Go all out again - 30 seconds Rest - 30 seconds Go all out and try not to die - 60 seconds Rest - 3 minutes
I did that three times and by the last minute-long interval, I pretty much wanted to fall over. We should all get S.H.I.I.T done once in a while, but the thing is, I know I’m not doing them right. The warm up, cool down, and rest periods between those intervals are supposed to be done at a high cadence of around 90rpm. Even though I’m spinning on my lower gearing of 46/17, anything above 80rpm has the back of my rollers bouncing around and my rear wheel swinging from side to side. If I was doing this on flat ground outside, I’d spin out before I reached 90rpm.

Obviously, that plan wasn’t written with the single-speed in mind.
But with rain outside and a weekend’s worth of time in front of my computer, I did a little research. I scoured all the [women’s] fitness blogs I’m currently obsessed with, googled, and came up with...very little. Most of the blogs out there are maintained by runners or triathletes; cyclists with blogs are predominately male and/or pros. And while it’s helpful to know that so-and-so can crank out 4000 watts in one hour, or that someone climbed 392,033,919,365 feet yesterday, it’s just not that relevant to me, my lack of gears, or my pillowy legs. To complicate things further, the training programs that I could find usually require at least 12 hours of riding a week; no bueno when I can probably realistically manage, at most, 10.
Okay, yeah, I could probably cut 2 hours out of somewhere and figure out a way to ride. But at the risk of this sounding like another poor excuse, I’m actually sort of afraid that a 12 hr/week program complete with 2hr rides followed by sprints are going to make my knees melt. That might be an irrational fear, but I know how my knees feel after anything over 3 hours. To throw down 4, rest a day, then get back on to do a 2 hour ride, week after week, might actually make my knees pop.
But never one to give up - I admit, the single-speed thing is totally my fault - I have a bit of a plan. It’s not fully formed yet, but things seem to be coming together. Slowly but surely, on one little gear.

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.