This past year was not a great one, mostly just treading water. Weight loss was nil. Speed, power, blah, blah, blah...all flat. Then in September I had a cold, developed pneumonia, got well for about two days and caught the flu. Six weeks later and I'm ready to train like it's 11/20/08.
In April I bought a Computrainer replacing the piece of crap trainer I had previously. It's a whole new world. Even though my first video game was an Atari 2600 at age 12, I am a video game junkie. I know it's silly, but I love being able to control my digital cycling self. And I'm able to work harder. I've got half-a-dozen "fat burning" workouts this fall. As I start to understand watts and training with power (and provided I don't fall off the wagon and into a Dunkin Donuts).
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
K.I.S.S.
Setting long term goals is usually the beginning of the end for me. I don't know about you, but once I reach the end of the season I start thinking about what I might be able to achieve next year.
At the end of last year I was feeling pretty good. My interval training had resulted in big gains, and it seemed like the sky was the limit. I was also aware of how I had failed to stick to a training plan in past years. That gave me hope that I could avoid the pitfalls of previous years. Reasons were varied and included; setting goals that were unrealistic, lack of motivation, burnout, or equipment failure resulting in inexplicable frustration.
In spite of all this, the racing season has been a disaster. My placings include field and lack of interest. I still have a few more races, but the majority of the races are in the past and I was a nonfactor.
I have a simpler goal this time around. Next year's goal is to ride tomorrow. It sounds kinda dumb, but I get lost on the road to the big goal even if I set up smaller goals along the way. Once I have the big goal in mind I can't see anything else. On top of that I'm horrible at managing failure. An expectation not realized is a doorway to every failure I can remember, and inevitably spirals downward. And the diet and any motivation are flushed away as well.
One of the big problems last year was my trainer. I decided to spring for a Computrainer in April since they were offering 0% financing for a year; big improvement over the old trainer. Something amazing happens to my motivation when I can make the little cyclist in the computer go faster or slower (usually faster) and there's another little cyclist for me to race against. There's nothing more fun than burying the other cyclist; one foot becomes two becomes three miles. I work harder than I ever did when training solo.
At the end of last year I was feeling pretty good. My interval training had resulted in big gains, and it seemed like the sky was the limit. I was also aware of how I had failed to stick to a training plan in past years. That gave me hope that I could avoid the pitfalls of previous years. Reasons were varied and included; setting goals that were unrealistic, lack of motivation, burnout, or equipment failure resulting in inexplicable frustration.
In spite of all this, the racing season has been a disaster. My placings include field and lack of interest. I still have a few more races, but the majority of the races are in the past and I was a nonfactor.
I have a simpler goal this time around. Next year's goal is to ride tomorrow. It sounds kinda dumb, but I get lost on the road to the big goal even if I set up smaller goals along the way. Once I have the big goal in mind I can't see anything else. On top of that I'm horrible at managing failure. An expectation not realized is a doorway to every failure I can remember, and inevitably spirals downward. And the diet and any motivation are flushed away as well.
One of the big problems last year was my trainer. I decided to spring for a Computrainer in April since they were offering 0% financing for a year; big improvement over the old trainer. Something amazing happens to my motivation when I can make the little cyclist in the computer go faster or slower (usually faster) and there's another little cyclist for me to race against. There's nothing more fun than burying the other cyclist; one foot becomes two becomes three miles. I work harder than I ever did when training solo.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Dealing with disappointment
If you were to look at the dates of this post and the previous post, you’ll notice a large gap immediately preceding this post. To me, it’s more than just a bunch of days when I didn’t want to write. I think it can teach me something important about myself. After reflecting on this subject, I think things immediately took a turn for the worse after my last race. I had raced the week before, and performed better than expected. I briefly discussed that race in my last post. The following week I was expecting big things.
So I took my lofty goals and went racing. Six miles into the race I was dropped. I chased for seven miles, the remainder of the first lap, before I quit. Yes, I quit. I can barely tolerate myself. Somewhere deep down in the wrinkles of my gray matter I learned that quitting is something you just don’t do.
Then I stewed on my performance, the fact that I quit, my weight, etc. If it was negative and I was aware of it, then I thought about it. I started finding excuses not to make it to team rides, not to stick to a diet, not to give a shit, basically. I was aware that I still owned a bike, but I had convinced myself that I needed to start back at square one because I was just…that…bad. And I didn’t want to start back at square one. It was a convenient little catch-22 I had put myself in.
My saving grace was and is a very good friend in the cycling club I belong to. And by “very good” I do not mean close necessarily. I mean that this friend knows how to tell others what they need to hear without sounding like a Nike commercial. He talked me out of the box that I had put myself in, and got me going to team rides again. Most people reading this will know that this is exactly what I needed. I needed to know I wasn’t as bad as I had convinced myself I was.
In fact I’m better than I could have expected. This morning I trimmed 90 seconds off a personal best on a 17-mile course that I use to test myself. It appears that my major problem is getting too deep into my own head. I drew a few conclusions from my introspection.
1. I need to ride with others as much as possible. Or, stated more generally, I need to stay connected to the friends I have.
2. When I don’t have someone to talk to, I need to be able to stage my own personal intervention. There are several points over the last several weeks when I could have addressed this, and the sooner the better.
3. Expectations can be exceeded or not met, by a little or a lot. Typically, my expectations have no real basis in reality, so judging based on how my results compare is complete foolishness.
So I took my lofty goals and went racing. Six miles into the race I was dropped. I chased for seven miles, the remainder of the first lap, before I quit. Yes, I quit. I can barely tolerate myself. Somewhere deep down in the wrinkles of my gray matter I learned that quitting is something you just don’t do.
Then I stewed on my performance, the fact that I quit, my weight, etc. If it was negative and I was aware of it, then I thought about it. I started finding excuses not to make it to team rides, not to stick to a diet, not to give a shit, basically. I was aware that I still owned a bike, but I had convinced myself that I needed to start back at square one because I was just…that…bad. And I didn’t want to start back at square one. It was a convenient little catch-22 I had put myself in.
My saving grace was and is a very good friend in the cycling club I belong to. And by “very good” I do not mean close necessarily. I mean that this friend knows how to tell others what they need to hear without sounding like a Nike commercial. He talked me out of the box that I had put myself in, and got me going to team rides again. Most people reading this will know that this is exactly what I needed. I needed to know I wasn’t as bad as I had convinced myself I was.
In fact I’m better than I could have expected. This morning I trimmed 90 seconds off a personal best on a 17-mile course that I use to test myself. It appears that my major problem is getting too deep into my own head. I drew a few conclusions from my introspection.
1. I need to ride with others as much as possible. Or, stated more generally, I need to stay connected to the friends I have.
2. When I don’t have someone to talk to, I need to be able to stage my own personal intervention. There are several points over the last several weeks when I could have addressed this, and the sooner the better.
3. Expectations can be exceeded or not met, by a little or a lot. Typically, my expectations have no real basis in reality, so judging based on how my results compare is complete foolishness.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
What on Earth?
I confess I don't really like Earth Day. The sad fact that we have to be reminded to take care of Mother Earth is one reason. Another reason would be that it has become a symbol of the growing divide between two types of people in this country; those that embrace or accept change, and those that desperately cling to a past that never really existed.
Bicycles have been in use for a period that exceeds the life span of anyone currently alive, and yet most people regard me (and my bike) with a sense of bewilderment...before they attempt to run me off the road. (OK, that doesn't really happen, much.)
So imagine my surprise when I had an actual conversation with a driver that wasn't an exchange of expletives at the top of our respective voices. A woman in a newer VW Beetle passed me on a multi-lane street, very much in my lane, and then proceeded to drift over as she completed the pass. This strikes me as dangerous and to be honest, a little disrespectful (cue the disrespected athlete montage). We were coming to a light that had turned red, so I pulled up next to her instead of dropping in behind. I stared in through the window with a look (I presume) a few degrees harder than my "let's have a frank and open exchange of ideas" face. Fortunately, I did not open my mouth. The driver then put down her window, and said "Hi!" Now it was my turn to be bewildered. Did I know her? Did she know me? What would I have said if she had not spoken first (yikes, 8 years in the Army means I know all the good words to use in tense situations)? Once I put my jaw back in its customary position, I said "Hi!" And I think the driver sensed my agitation because she launched into a "baby, I wouldn't hit you" and "don't worry sugar, I saw you" and "no, no, you go first when the light changes." Or maybe she was just a nice person who unknowingly made a mistake, and was doing all she could to make it right.
None of this changes the fact that I still might end up bleeding to death from a hit-and-run (it's happened twice to fellow cyclists on these roads since I've been paying attention) on these roads that I love. What it does change, incrementally, is my belief that most drivers are locked into a routine that prevents them from processing new information.
As a side note, here's a small testament to my love of cycling. Yesterday was a full day with no room for cycling though a recovery ride of 2-3 hours was on the schedule. I arrived home at 9:15 PM, and while my family went to sleep, I rode. Arriving home early the next day some three hours later I was happily weary.
Bicycles have been in use for a period that exceeds the life span of anyone currently alive, and yet most people regard me (and my bike) with a sense of bewilderment...before they attempt to run me off the road. (OK, that doesn't really happen, much.)
So imagine my surprise when I had an actual conversation with a driver that wasn't an exchange of expletives at the top of our respective voices. A woman in a newer VW Beetle passed me on a multi-lane street, very much in my lane, and then proceeded to drift over as she completed the pass. This strikes me as dangerous and to be honest, a little disrespectful (cue the disrespected athlete montage). We were coming to a light that had turned red, so I pulled up next to her instead of dropping in behind. I stared in through the window with a look (I presume) a few degrees harder than my "let's have a frank and open exchange of ideas" face. Fortunately, I did not open my mouth. The driver then put down her window, and said "Hi!" Now it was my turn to be bewildered. Did I know her? Did she know me? What would I have said if she had not spoken first (yikes, 8 years in the Army means I know all the good words to use in tense situations)? Once I put my jaw back in its customary position, I said "Hi!" And I think the driver sensed my agitation because she launched into a "baby, I wouldn't hit you" and "don't worry sugar, I saw you" and "no, no, you go first when the light changes." Or maybe she was just a nice person who unknowingly made a mistake, and was doing all she could to make it right.
None of this changes the fact that I still might end up bleeding to death from a hit-and-run (it's happened twice to fellow cyclists on these roads since I've been paying attention) on these roads that I love. What it does change, incrementally, is my belief that most drivers are locked into a routine that prevents them from processing new information.
As a side note, here's a small testament to my love of cycling. Yesterday was a full day with no room for cycling though a recovery ride of 2-3 hours was on the schedule. I arrived home at 9:15 PM, and while my family went to sleep, I rode. Arriving home early the next day some three hours later I was happily weary.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I am a child
I have jokingly said this many thousands of times since being officially recognized as an adult. The joke is that it is absolutely true. I was planning a ride recently, and I cannot describe the pure joy I felt while contemplating "what will happen during the ride?" On second thought, I can describe it. It's exactly what I felt when, as a child, I thought about Christmas before I knew Santa was a big, fat fake.
I don't know if I've mentioned it before but this racing season the USCF classifies me as a 40-year-old. Almost twenty years ago now, I was a pretty good runner and cyclist, and I occasionally won. I had no notion of training except that I should ride as much as I possibly could. Fast forward to now and I have become more self-aware, more tuned to what my body is telling me. I can follow a training plan. I can hurt myself with intervals knowing with absolute certainty that I will be better for it. That seems a very adult perspective. At least it's a recognition of long-term goals superceding short-term desires. And yet, childlike wonder pervades all of it.
This past Sunday I participated in my 3rd race of the season, and the first after three weeks off. I wasn't sure what to expect as my first two results were less than stellar, my weight is still too high (242), and I've only got three weeks of intervals in my legs. I go into every race with butterflies. It's like I'm wondering if this is the week that everyone figures out what a fraud I am. So my first fear is not to get dropped on the first lap (RR of 6, 8-mile laps). The pace went through the roof and I did not get dropped. Physically, I wasn't capable of laughter at that point, but inside I was laughing; a big, belly laugh that might follow a sentence like "and I thought I'd seen it all..." And it got better...two laps later I attacked and got a gap of 30 seconds or so. Now, that isn't much, but as soon as my wheel was the first wheel I could have exploded from pure, unadulterated delight. Part of me knew I wasn't going to stay away, but the child laughed, and this time it was out loud. Picture PeeWee Hermann in his Big Adventure dreaming about winning the Tour deFrance and you'll have some idea of what was going on in my head.
If I keep at this I'll get better, and I may someday have a chance to win a race or two. Though if it means I have to trade in all of that wide-eyed wonder, well then I'll pass. There is no doubt about it. I am a child.
I don't know if I've mentioned it before but this racing season the USCF classifies me as a 40-year-old. Almost twenty years ago now, I was a pretty good runner and cyclist, and I occasionally won. I had no notion of training except that I should ride as much as I possibly could. Fast forward to now and I have become more self-aware, more tuned to what my body is telling me. I can follow a training plan. I can hurt myself with intervals knowing with absolute certainty that I will be better for it. That seems a very adult perspective. At least it's a recognition of long-term goals superceding short-term desires. And yet, childlike wonder pervades all of it.
This past Sunday I participated in my 3rd race of the season, and the first after three weeks off. I wasn't sure what to expect as my first two results were less than stellar, my weight is still too high (242), and I've only got three weeks of intervals in my legs. I go into every race with butterflies. It's like I'm wondering if this is the week that everyone figures out what a fraud I am. So my first fear is not to get dropped on the first lap (RR of 6, 8-mile laps). The pace went through the roof and I did not get dropped. Physically, I wasn't capable of laughter at that point, but inside I was laughing; a big, belly laugh that might follow a sentence like "and I thought I'd seen it all..." And it got better...two laps later I attacked and got a gap of 30 seconds or so. Now, that isn't much, but as soon as my wheel was the first wheel I could have exploded from pure, unadulterated delight. Part of me knew I wasn't going to stay away, but the child laughed, and this time it was out loud. Picture PeeWee Hermann in his Big Adventure dreaming about winning the Tour deFrance and you'll have some idea of what was going on in my head.
If I keep at this I'll get better, and I may someday have a chance to win a race or two. Though if it means I have to trade in all of that wide-eyed wonder, well then I'll pass. There is no doubt about it. I am a child.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
I am hungry! Does anyone else have difficulty balancing deprivation against necessity? I have determined over the last few years that I am basically a slave to my desires. My only defense against temptation has been to remove myself from the situation. I am slowly trying to move away from the animal, to the intelluctual. I admire those people who can be confronted with temptation, understand why they are tempted, and deny themselves that which some part of them wants. I understand those that live by primitive urges, but I do not want to be one of them. Maybe there is enlightenment in that. The self-awareness manifests itself in other ways as well. I am more aware of the people around me. For example, I don't shout profanities at drivers who cut me off (although I once did). A thirty-second window into their life certainly does not grant me the right to pass judgement on them. I have no idea what their life is like. As Plato said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
Back to hunger and more generally, desire. I know that hunger is a base urge that does not understand the concept of Fourth Meal, high fructose corn syrup, or the Cheesecake Factory's desire to serve four portions to a single person. And when I'm riding none of this is a problem. I am pure. I cannot be tempted. The world is a much simpler place on a bike. I am the person who laments "things were better in the old days" unable to face the beautiful complexity of everyday life. Except I also know that life is not really lived if it is lived from behind a locked door. Talk about dichotomy! Perhaps that's why I love racing. Every racer fights a battle of patience versus ATTACK. The clash of intellectual versus animal creates an unpredictability that dominates most races, bowing only to the strongest of riders. Ultimately, that is what drives me on. I want to be the one who conquers the course, the riders, the race. It means I can be hungry and avoid the pizza/ice cream/double cheeseburger. It means I can wake up at 4:00 AM and train sore muscles.
As I finish this entry, it occurs to me that I would not have been capable of writing the previous two paragraphs as recently as last Thursday. The wonder of it all...
Back to hunger and more generally, desire. I know that hunger is a base urge that does not understand the concept of Fourth Meal, high fructose corn syrup, or the Cheesecake Factory's desire to serve four portions to a single person. And when I'm riding none of this is a problem. I am pure. I cannot be tempted. The world is a much simpler place on a bike. I am the person who laments "things were better in the old days" unable to face the beautiful complexity of everyday life. Except I also know that life is not really lived if it is lived from behind a locked door. Talk about dichotomy! Perhaps that's why I love racing. Every racer fights a battle of patience versus ATTACK. The clash of intellectual versus animal creates an unpredictability that dominates most races, bowing only to the strongest of riders. Ultimately, that is what drives me on. I want to be the one who conquers the course, the riders, the race. It means I can be hungry and avoid the pizza/ice cream/double cheeseburger. It means I can wake up at 4:00 AM and train sore muscles.
As I finish this entry, it occurs to me that I would not have been capable of writing the previous two paragraphs as recently as last Thursday. The wonder of it all...
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Who put that crab there?
Motivation is a funny thing. It survives all summer on nothing more than a ghost of a chance to place, to win. Then winter rolls around and motivation disappears...poof...gone. I eat. I play Everquest. I forget that I have a bike bolted to a trainer in the basement. And then last Friday happens.
In one instant I went from "I want a cheeseburger" to "I do NOT want a cheeseburger, and can I go ride NOW."
Friday morning I checked the racing calendar. Posted was the USCF Road Race Championships. It just so happens it is on the same course as last year, but it is four months earlier than last year. Last year I got dropped on the hill. And there were three laps, so I got dropped three times (yeah, I caught back on two of the three times). Later that day and the next day/week/month I mulled over my 15th place finish. I vowed to be lighter and more powerful.
I also noticed that the first race of the year was Saturday, the very next day. Good news comes in two's, I guess. You can quibble over a race being good news. It was cold, about 20 degrees with wind chill. It was a race though, and suddenly there it was.
Hello, Mo! Nice to see you again!
In one instant I went from "I want a cheeseburger" to "I do NOT want a cheeseburger, and can I go ride NOW."
Friday morning I checked the racing calendar. Posted was the USCF Road Race Championships. It just so happens it is on the same course as last year, but it is four months earlier than last year. Last year I got dropped on the hill. And there were three laps, so I got dropped three times (yeah, I caught back on two of the three times). Later that day and the next day/week/month I mulled over my 15th place finish. I vowed to be lighter and more powerful.
I also noticed that the first race of the year was Saturday, the very next day. Good news comes in two's, I guess. You can quibble over a race being good news. It was cold, about 20 degrees with wind chill. It was a race though, and suddenly there it was.
Hello, Mo! Nice to see you again!
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