I rode...
Made a new friend [an 11 month old Great Dane named Juno]...
And showered [very Terry Richardson/American Apparel photo, no?] at NYC Velo...
Hopefully more of the same in a few days...
of chocolate, [new] bikes, and not being lazy
Okay, I admit, with the cold, the cough, and the cost of buying even more layers to layer over the layers I already wear when I ride in the winter, I haven't been riding much at all lately. I felt guilty enough about it a few weeks ago to haul all of my winter bike gear to NYC, in hopes of getting in a few rides over the weekend, but I ended up at the doctor’s instead. And while I think lethargy suits me more than I’d be comfortable admitting, it’s also fueled some scary mental scenarios.
Because with a pretty IF on the way, and legs turning into mush with lack of exercise, my panic has me visualizing scenarios where I get to the base of the GW bridge on my new bike's maiden voyage, only to turn around in humiliation as my legs shake from the exertion. In other imagined scenarios, friends drop me within seconds and fail to notice and I'm left to either fight the wind and cold myself or limp back home. Worst of all, there's the one where I fall over halfway up River Road because I'm too weak to climb the rest of the way, scratching the entire length of my new IF frame [except for the part where my legs might be] as I tumble down the hill, still half clipped in, destroying derailleurs and denting my frame on the way.
That's right. They don't call me a drama queen for nothing.
Which is why I figured a ride was in order yesterday. It wasn’t planned or expected, but the rain was supposed to hold off until 1pm. And it wasn’t freezing cold. Perfect. I cut short my gchat convo with Rich Bravo [that’s right ladies, I have Rich Bravo’s gmail address], got dressed and headed out.
Can I say something? 20 days off the bike + head wind + pms + almost no carbs since yesterday afternoon = the most pathetically sad ride, ever.
It was great for like the ten minutes after my thighs stopped screaming and I warmed up, i.e., I stopped feeling like I was going to have a heart attack. I kept up this mental chatter like, “this is totally fun! You’re outside and riding! Yay!” as my legs went on autopilot and stayed that way for the remaining two plus hours. There was some bad pop pounding into one ear but try as I might, I couldn’t accelerate. Climbing hills that usually only required a little pushing near the top turned into the kind of slow agony that’s somewhat like the feeling you might get when you end up trying to teach your clueless parents how to use the Internet. Worse, my attempted snot rocket turned into a gross snail trail all over my right thigh and leg [sorry Rapha bib shorts].
This was all exacerbated by the fact that I’ve been PMS-ing hardcore. Like “all cookies within a 5 miles radius need to watch out,” hardcore. In desperation, to keep myself from eating the entire bakery a block away, I self-medicated last night with protein instead of carbs and sugar...who knew that would make me feel like a washed up jellyfish as I attempted a simple 30-miler? Probably everyone. But in my defense, I don’t really think my rides are very hard or challenging. They’re usually quick sub two-hour rides that don’t even necessitate on-bike eating. Except this time I was kicking myself for neglecting to bring anything edible on my ride other than a bottle of water. Not even a cough drop. I was hurting. I almost tumbled down a few small hills a la my feared scenarios.
At times crawling at probably 5mph [no joke], I limped back home with a loose right cleat, a busted IT band, and shattered ego. Sure, the extreme front yard Christmas decorations I saw made for both an excuse to stop and snap pictures and ensured that my [possibly] last [for the year, at least] outdoor ride on a single speed was pretty memorable. But I couldn’t help feeling bloated, useless, and unworthy of that IF that’s on the way.
And then Clint tweeted a picture of it. And I had some chocolate.
And you know what? Weak legs aside, I’m feeling good about this coming weekend. Like really good.
last push
I'll be done with exams in a few days...and with my study buddy getting me sick [thanks for licking my cup whenever I wasn't looking, Matt], I have't been on the bike in what feels like forev.
It's the last push. I'll be done...DONE!!!...before the week is out. Meanwhile, get out there and ride lots for me!
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...?
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...
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?!]