spring fever

Starting Thursday, most of my weekend was spent doing this:

I woke up Thursday night with a fever. The next few days involved raspy coughing, lots of sleep, and some colossally disgusting phlegm. I was popping pills like the pros M&Ms.
Needless to say, there wasn’t much time on the bike [somewhat good because it actually snowed on Friday...FYI, IT IS MARCH, PEOPLE...!]. This meant that by Saturday, I was going slightly stir-crazy, and actually considered riding.
Which was a terrible idea because I could barely go 10 minutes without coughing and/or blowing my nose. I was pretty much a disgusting mess. But, oh, the guilt...!
Apparently, committing to riding some arbitrary number of miles a week is sort of like strapping myself into a guilt rollercoaster. When I’m not hitting those stupid damn numbers, I feel lazy, even if I have a pile of possibly more important things vying for my attention. Of course, when I do hit those magical numbers of miles or hours in the saddle, I feel like I’ve been straddling that thing for a small eternity, and I tell myself I’ll welcome the rest day. I don’t. I spend most of it restlessly reading and forcing myself to walk, not ride, to Cafe Fixe.
Yes, I sound like a budding addict. I might possibly be one at this point. Possibly.

My illness did a pretty good job of confining me to bed rest this weekend, though. While I don’t appreciate the attempt to break my addiction, it did mean that I got dinner cooked for me on Saturday night and some good cycling company [okay, of one] to help keep the cabin fever at bay. It did the trick - by Sunday night I knew I would be able to ride through any residual phlegm.
Too bad the weather decided to give me a big “FUCK YOU” in the form of rain. Until Wednesday. Awesome.
...Yeah, I probably should invest in a rain jacket. I’m going to be one of those annoying optimists and pretend that a high volume of hope will somehow mitigate the misery of the commute this week. So, yeah. Wish me luck.
But then again, Plastic Peloton found me on twitter and said some super nice things about the blog. Maybe this week is looking up...!

geared epiphany

You guys.
I had an amazing epiphany yesterday. I now understand why most bicycles have gears.
Wait, wait. I know you’re rolling your eyes, muttering “she’s realizing this NOW?”, shaking your head, clicking onto the next blog in your reader, or all of the above. But it takes a while for things to sink in, okay?
When everyone told me I “needed” a geared road bike, a part of me agreed because, hey, can you really have too many bikes? But there’s a learning curve with those things...I just didn’t get why there was so much shifting back and forth involved. When I said that I could mash up the hills just fine, people just said something like “well, you want to be able to walk when you’re 40, don’t you?” or “what about your knees?”

Okay, fine. Apparently you can go longer and faster, when you can shift up and down and all around. I understood the concept, but not really how it was going to change my life.
But then, yesterday. Out on the usual 2hr ride, I was hauling ass to get a negative split for the entire ride, not just part of it. When I wasn’t fighting wind, I got a really good pace going; my thighs were aching, but nothing unmanageable. And then, just when the wind died down for a bit, I hit a flat stretch of road. Hunkered down in the drops, neatly clipped in, I was spinning out.
My initial thought was to knock off a tooth in the back...and then I realized that I wouldn’t be able to climb all the hills if I did that. AND THEN BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT AND KNOW NOTHING BUT A SINGLE-SPEED, MY NEXT IDEA INVOLVED GETTING A SMALLER COG, PUTTING IT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY REAR WHEEL, THEN FLIPPING MY WHEEL [TO THE FREEWHEEL SIDE] EVERY TIME I HIT A HILL.
Do you want to know my next thought? It was: ...but that would be such a pain in the ass...I wish there was an easier way to switch between the two---OHHHHHHHHH...!!!!
Cue light bulb turning on [finally] over my head.
Yes, I am a dumbass.

Hours later, my face in my third coffee of the day at [my favorite] Cafe Fixe [yes, I can drink my weight in coffee. Don’t judge.], I revealed my life-changing realization to Matt. He snorted, rolled his eyes, and laughed, saying:
“I like how you do everything in reverse.”
As if I would do it any other way.
[But for those of you who want to follow by example, for less than the cost of my saddle, Walmart is now selling a "fixed-speed" bike for $150.]

wind allergies

I admit it, I looked [read?] like a total idiot yesterday when several hours after my dramatic whine-fest, the weather turned out to be pretty frickin’ gorgeous.
Other than that whole giant gusts of wind that made it feel like I was running through water thing.
Yesterday was actually the first time I did that Dover ride in winds that strong. That’s saying a lot, given my wind allergy. But after more than two days off the bike, I was getting impatient, and worse, feeling really lazy and lethargic. Vitamin D was calling my name late yesterday morning, between a 8.30 class, a small pile of art law reading, and a blitzkrieg of cite checking. I also really wanted to start putting the DS plan into action. Never mind that the wind kept trying to tear the bike out from under me on the way to and from school. Headwind ain’t a thanggggg.

Or so I thought. Until my thighs started burning within the first 30 minutes into my ride and it really didn’t seem like I was moving forward. At all.
You know how when you’re riding with other people and you’re fighting a decent headwind and someone says, “well, at least we’ll get a good tailwind on the way back!”? I always want to slap those people. Mostly because that headwind consistently turns into another headwind as soon as I turn around. Wind and I do not have an amicable relationship.
And that’s exactly what happened. I felt like I was cheating a little bit, trying for a negative split on the way back, almost believing that the wind would be on my side. Not true. I mean, I did get a negative split [yay!], but I had to book it; and at a certain point, I’m pretty sure I was going about 8mph. I was trying really hard to maintain that speed, too.
One perk, though: I had nothing on my back this time, proper shoes, gloves, and a slightly windproof jacket. I felt so weightless...until, of course, that wind tried to push my bike over, smother me, make me actually pedal down the hills, and otherwise make me cry my ride slightly miserable.

The short ride done, I rewarded my legs with a new snack combo: Fig Newmans broken up into Fage nonfat greek yogurt. Sounds gross but was actually really delicious. It even kept me conscious through cite checking 214 footnotes later that night [okay, that Americano might have had something to do with it, too]. As usual, I was unjustifiably proud of myself. Happily exhausted, I came home late last night to find an email from the faux-ch with about 10 million links to possibly affordable frame sets [isn’t he nice?]. That made me even happier, even if most wouldn’t really fit.
And it’s made me more motivated, too, in a weird way. So I’m off again to make the faux-ch proud [or try]. Because it’s gorgeous out, again.
Go get you on a bicycle!
[Thanks for the jersey recommendations, guys! Keep them coming!]

rain = vicarious retail therapy

Ughhhhhhhhhhh soooooooooo windy out. UGHHHHHHHHHHH.
Yeah, I am currently a whine-fest, but I really love how the week after I meet with my faux-ch, it rains for most of the week. I mean, nevermind that I’m swamped with work and I couldn’t get out to ride anyway...how am I supposed to hit my 100+ miles/week goal at this rainy rate?
Well, in other news, my leg is starting to feel okay. When I told DS that my hamstring’s been killing me for the past two weeks, he informed me that my body was just adjusting to the bike. As in, HTFU. Hilarious.
With the weather being like it is, I honestly didn’t have much to post about...until, flipping through pictures taken this weekend, I found a picture of these:

Women’s Sidi MTB Dominator 5. Red. Hot. Incredibly hot.
The one on display was my size [I think God’s trying to tell me and/or my credit card something], so I couldn’t resist trying them on. They’re the first MTB shoes I’ve tried and holy shit can you say comfortable?! My toes weren’t pointing up like they do with my road shoes and I could sort of walk normally. PLUS THEY’RE RED. I'm still regretting not spending the money I don't have on these! [FYI, Sidi, I wouldn't mind if you sent me a pair of these, you know, just because.]
With my luck, some luckier girl is going to walk out with that same pair next week. But that’s okay; I’m telling myself that despite how incredibly sexy they are, they won’t match either of my bikes, nor would I be able to do longer rides with SPD pedals, anyway. Still...don’t they look good on me?!
And if shoes don’t excite you on this otherwise dreary day, how’s a sick Geekhouse ‘cross bike for you? This baby is now sitting pretty in NYC Velo; Marty himself even brought it from Boston. Which is a good thing, because it’s something like a 56cm [don’t quote me on that], and Andy actually asked me if I could bring it down with me this past weekend. I’m not sure if he wanted me to strap it to my back or actually try to ride it, but both would have resulted in a destroyed Geekhouse by yours truly.

Granted, it would have been funny to watch, but I’m pretty sure both Marty and Andy would have killed me.
Okay that’s all I got for you on this seriously shitty hump day. Vicarious retail therapy. Speaking of which...anyone have any short-sleeve jersey recommendations?

getting faux-ched

So, it’s getting warmer out. I mean, it’s shitty out now, but weather.com tells me we’re going to have an awesome weekend [starting Thursday, of course]. This also means layering and hiding behind coats is no longer an option. Time for everything to start getting shorter and tighter!
Wait...shorter? Tighter? Um...I am pointing to my still extant muffin top and...hi, wait, what???
A part of me kind of wants to tell spring to fuck off for a little longer. I’m pretty sure I haven’t lost any of that weight I gained the first year of law school which was...oh...like...THREE YEARS AGO. I mean, I can stay in denial for at least another 3 years, but with every women’s magazine on the planet touting ways to get into shape for “bikini season” [cue massive internal groaning], I’m well aware that I’m falling short.

To say that I started cycling to stay become fit would be like saying Tiger Woods is unfaithful. Not entirely inaccurate, but in both cases, we’ve managed to find something else along the way that piques our interests and addiction ensues. Unlike Tiger, I’ve been a willing participant in broadcasting my lack of game cycling skills, but honestly, guys, failure is exhausting.
And when you only have hardcore training plans and/or Chris “Imma make you do intervals until your heart feels like it’ll pop, then you can rest for 3 seconds before we do it all again because you want to be like Lance, don’t you?” Carmichael available to whip me into some semblance of shape, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. And while I’m completely okay being the slowest cyclist on the planet, I still finagled my way into a meeting this past weekend with a coach.

Enter Dave Sommerville. One of the handful of Cat 1s in NY, and one of three [yes, three] Cat 1s that work at NYC Velo. His UCI card has two “1”s and a “2,” which he wants to turn into a “1.” This would make him a triple Cat 1 in road, cyclocross, and track. His training plans are like from another universe of fast and painful.
I know this, and he knows this, which is why he’s not really my coach [more like my faux-ch]. But because DS is an awesome guy, for the price of dinner, I got a good two hours to form some sort of structure to my crazy pedaling. The man’s been racing pretty much as long as longer than I’ve been alive, so a lot of dinner consisted of me shutting my mouth and just listening [and scribbling]. He made most of his suggestions to me sound easy, but I suppose that comes with the territory when doing 1400+ laps around a 50 degree banked velodrome is your definition of fun.

I was sent home with some solid advice on where to start, reasonable goals to strive for [even without a road bike! Yay!], a stack of literature, some goodies [not that jersey though, more on that later], and the assurance that I have yet another pair of eyes looking out for an affordable, geared “hobbit bike.” I spent a good chunk of the rest of the night scouring ebay, though not much is popping up in my size. Of course, a little more digging revealed quite the beaut, but if I had $3k to blow, I’d like to think that I wouldn’t still be pulling at my pudge and pouting [but it’s not about the bike...right, Lance? RIGHT?!].
Okay, it's not about the pudge, either. But if I'm going to show up to my graduation in Lycra, I'd like to at least look fast doing it.
So I got some new goals, some more body fat to lose, and a motherfucking training plan, son! Now let's see what I can do with myself by graduation...

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.