Goals are funny. We want to achieve them but we like our routines. We like our habits, even the bad ones.
I set a goal of 3000 miles. I’ve wanted to do this kind of mileage before but never (I don’t think) put it in writing. 60 miles a week doesn’t seem insurmountable. But I’ve never been able to pull that kind of mileage off. Here are my most recent stats:
Distance 2,114 miles
Elevation Gain 92,450ft
Distance 2,345 miles
Elevation Gain 89,850ft
Distance 2,710 mi
Elevation Gain 118,000+++ft (should have written this one down!)
Elevation Gain 81,385ft
2013 was my best year for miles and climbing, and there is a great reason: I was laid off from my job for the first time in my entire life. Being out of work and being COMPLETELY stressed about it is a perfect recipe for high miles: high stress to pedal off and lots of free time to do it. Honestly I can thank cycling for getting me through that dark time. But things are on the upswing these days, so it would be great to log even higher miles and have them just be for fun, not exclusively for mental health.
Mid summer in 2015, I was feeling a loss of wind in my sails around training, about the approaching cyclocross season and how invested I could be or wanted to be in the race season. I got it together, mostly. But my miles dropped off hard as soon as daylight saving time came around, and with that, so did my overall fitness.
So why 3000 miles? It feels like a magic number to me. In 2013 when I was riding a ton, things started to shift for me in terms of my cycling performance. I got faster, I climbed better, I became a more capable cyclist. It felt so great. I moved off the plateau and onto higher ground, and it was nice, and surprising, to learn that was still possible in my forties.
So-3000 miles for 2016. Hopefully the mild winter will continue, my personal schedules fall into place, and I can get the saddle time I need to get there…..and hopefully I’ll move off that plateau and onto that higher ground I’m looking for.
Right! That never happens. I’ll spend this winter obsessing about what I should have done differently and not forgiving myself for not training harder, despite the reality of a highly demanding schedule.
What’s on my list this winter?
- Mountain biking
- Trail running
So far this winter has been record setting mild. No snow, a few cold days but nothing serious. I need to get back into running; I have some serious muscle imbalance going on, and I need to challenge some different muscle groups. Yoga would help. Now I need someone to make me do some yoga.
In 2016 I am signed up for a few obstacle course races starting in the spring and concluding in September. I’m hoping to squeeze a couple of mountain bike races in this summer too. Mountain biking is something I really love and during the summers I find myself not spending as much time as I would like in the woods.
Goals for 2016 will be forthcoming, but right now, no agendas, just fun. Happy holidays everyone!
At last, I’ve experienced the infamous Ice Weasels. Considered the end of the season party for the New England Cyclocross community, I have regrettably missed this party for the last 3 years. Now I see what all the fuss is about. This was a blast. A completely rad course, beer handups, White Russian handups, candy cane handups, silly costumes, a Star Wars theme, and a bike jump! What more could a girl ask for? Oh, the amazing #NECX community. So great. With ironically warm temperatures in the low 60’s, the Ice Weasels did not disappoint. Here are the highlights:
- the above photos collected from links from the crossresults.com site Thank you to the awesome #necx for sharing!
The race had some serious gnar. Crazy chutes and granite ladders, dual pump tracks through the woods, a deep sand section that hells yeah, I rode through nearly every time, and lots of on and off the bike action. I really loved this course–it was sick and twisted in all the best ways and the cheering from spectators was a frenzy of fun. I haven’t raced since Northampton last month and have had almost zero time on the bike. My fitness was marginal but none of this mattered: this race was all about the fun. But, you still are racing, you are still moving along at a good clip. So when I felt a pop in my left calf on my very first dismount, followed by searing pain, I knew things were not good.
At first I tested what I could do….riding the crazy downhills was so much fun, I loved it. I heard a couple loud crashes behind me as women lost it on the loose sand descent of some of the downhills. I played tug of war with a Cannondale rider. It was hard to assess what shape my calf was in while I was on the bike. I was in the moment.
Then I dismounted for the granite steps, and I felt more searing pain in the calf. I could pedal fine, but running off the bike, and worse, remounting, was agony. I limped through my runs off the bike. I slowed way down, babied it as much as possible, and at times, walked when I would have been running. I tried to push through it but to what end? This was the fun race, I reminded myself. When someone is sticking a solo cup in your face…..sometimes, sometimes you should just slow down and take it.
Next time, I will!
More photos for your enjoyment (these ones are mine):
Last year I wrote that the Spartan Sprint was no joke. That has never been more true. In fact, this year, it was even harder. And last year was pretty freaking hard.
I didn’t race this event, but experienced it with family. We took our time with each obstacle and I failed at some. I won’t beat myself about that. I was feeling pretty anxious about contaminating my wounds front he crash I had the day before at Forest Park. I knew there would be a ton of mud and being that it took place on a farm, there were bound to be lots of other biological goodies hanging out in said mud. I used the tegaderm on both my leg and elbow, and reinforced it with duct tape to keep out the gross stuff. And there was plenty of gross at Spartan Sprint.
Last year I only failed at 2 obstacles. This year there were many more. The obstacles were hard–more upper body challenges that I didn’t see any women conquering. I was constantly stressing about my leg and elbow, and half way through the 100 yard barbed wire crawl (yeah, 100 freaking yards), the duct tape failed on my elbow and I made the decision to abandon that obstacle. I just couldn’t willingly smash dirt and manure into an open weeping wound. I’m tough. I’m not stupid.
I felt bad about it, a little. I don’t like bagging out on challenges, so it bothered me, and it changed my attitude for most of the race. I wish I had been without these wounds so I could have approached the event with more zeal and less caution. But as I type this 5 days later, my elbow is still weeping and I’ve been fighting an infection for the better part of the week. I’m finally starting to feel like I might have turned a corner and it will start to close up and heal a bit, but it really still just hurts. The leg is healing nicely though–so that’s getting better anyway. I just need the elbow to catch up.
Even without succeeding at all the obstacles, the whole event is still wicked hard. I did my burpees and climbed walls and scaled cargo nets and jumped over fire and all. It’s not cycling, but it was fun, and I definitely used a bunch of muscles I’m not used to using, which isn’t a bad thing at all.
Now….back to cycling!
I’m lying on my couch right now, looking at my road bike which needs a tube change before tomorrow morning’s ride. I cannot summon the energy to do it.
I worked out twice today, once on the bike, again with a 4 mile hike, and I can’t tell if I’m just that out of shape, or if I’m really feeling my age these days.
My rides have felt slow to me in 2015. It’s almost May–I got a late start (we all did here in the Northeast), but I’m still feeling like riding is taking more effort than it should. Was my hibernation that profound? Is the hole I’m crawling out of that deep? I don’t know.
I’ve set some goals for myself and I put some serious thought into them to make them reasonable, yet not too soft. I’m still super pressed for time, sneaking in rides here and there–an hour on the bike when I can grab it. When I do ride, it’s almost always on the cross bike, and I almost always try to add something different: a new path. A piece of dirt road I haven’t explored yet. Even just riding the grass next to the road. If it’s going to be an effort, I need to keep it fun.
Today I stayed local while my son was at baseball practice, and explored the banks of the Connecticut River. I saw a loon and came across these raccoon tracks. These are the perks of exploring with a cross bike.
I finally hired a sitter–who starts tomorrow, The extra time I buy (literally) will allow me to push into rides that are 2, 3 or more hours. I need the base miles, more time in the saddle, to stretch and build my conditioning.
But again, right now I’m barely able to lift my arm to change the channel on the TV with the remote. Hopefully as I slowly re-enter my exercise routine my fitness will return and I won’t feel so shattered every weekend.
Ug! I’m not riding nearly enough for so many reasons. I’d like to being doing 70-80+ miles a week. Instead, I’m sometimes breaking 40. Why? Same old same old.
- No sitter. Freaking babysitters, I cannot find a reliable one to save my life. I really need to fix this because I’m not riding my bike after work.
- Work. I was riding to and from work every once and a while. That’s pretty much stopped now. There’s several reasons for this I won’t get into, but mostly it’s extremely difficult to squeeze 20 mins of riding before and after work, put a full day in, and still make it back in time to pick up my son from day camp. I just don’t have to time without something giving.
- Needing rides to be more for fun. I’ve been super stressed lately and I use riding to work out tension, fill my brain with endorphins, and clear my head of the bullshit of life.
My life feels wobbly right now, and one of the most grounding elements for me in the last 10 years has been cycling. Friday evening I picked the hardest place I know to mountain bike. I needed to mash pedals, to hurt, to jar myself free of my stress. I fell off a bridge into the muddy edge of a pond. Win. Then, last Saturday I had the whole day to ride, and I thought about doing a 50 miler. Then I thought, well, maybe 40. Then I thought, no. Imposing a goal was just adding to my stress, and not taking it away. I needed to just go ride my bike and let the rest work itself out. It worked. 26 miles and I found a strong steady rhythm. I pedaled until I felt resolved, if only for a little while. Then I went home and got shit done (which also helps my stress). Sunday, rain was forecast so I tried to beat it. I didn’t. That wasn’t a bad thing. Mountain biking in the warm rain washed my week clean. Mountain biking always means a 1/3 of the miles I’d be doing on a road bike, but the visceral action of mountain biking is like deep tissue massage for my soul.
That leaves me here: not really ready for cyclocross. OK I’ve been riding some, but not training. Major Jake is still hanging in my basement, untuned, unlubed and needing new bar tape. I’m not doing intervals. I’m not practicing dismounts. I’m not practicing remounts. I’m not trying to cure my stutter step. I’m not practicing carries, suit-casing, or shouldering while sprinting up a muddy hill. And I haven’t built that single speed cx bike yet either.
And I have to be honest, I’m not sure I should be putting my energies here, since life is needing my time and energy and some work that doesn’t involve a bicycle.
I have a vacation coming up and will be riding my bike at the largest mountain bike park in the world. While it’s unwise to have expectations, mine are high. I won’t by riding the whole time but I will be immersed in one of the most active mountain biking cultures on the earth: Whistler, BC. Maybe after I return, I can refocus on cyclocross, and some of the non bicycle parts of my life. Because all of it can be better.
Last year, I did a Warrior Dash, and it was fun. A 5K with a few fun and dirty obstacles. It was over pretty quickly, enough time to hang out with some friends from High School and have a few beers, and I was happily sore afterwards.
So it didn’t seem like a big deal to sign up for a Spartan Sprint. I signed up last February, and promptly forgot about the whole thing.
My girlfriend mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago; she had started running to prep for it. I wasn’t particularly concerned. I ride my bike all the time and I’m in great shape–really, this is NBD, right?
So, so, wrong.
We left early and arrived at Mohegan Sun about 2 hours before out start time. PLENTY of time to register, pin numbers, check our bag. And better–a clutch parking spot in the garage, attached to the casino–which means access to REAL bathrooms (no port-o-pottie!). We ventured into the casino in search of sunscreen, and benefited from the shade of a dark, air conditioned, oxygen rich environment. Outside the sun was bright and shining hot–temps quickly ramping into the upper 80’s and lower 90’s. We prepped to start, staying cool as long as possible.
The start should have been the first clue. To simply load into the starting area, you had to get over a 4 foot wall. 250 people in our heat hopping over a 4 foot wall in a 10 minute period.
What’s a Burpee?
We started with a chest thumping Arooo! and were off. The first obstacle after the start was a 6 foot wall. Um, yeah. I gave my gf a hoist but then was left alone on the other side without a team member. The penalty for not completing a challenge was 30 burprees, which was the 1st thing I didn’t know about this event. Not to mention, until then I had never DONE a burpee. I asked a impossibly good looking, mostly naked, I just walked off the cover of Men’s Health Magazine dude for a lift over the 6 foot wall. Young man, could you help your mom over this wall? It worked. Half a second later, I was over–no burpees this time.
The next obstacles were pretty easy. Hay bales, over a few 4 foot walls, under some barriers with netting, and through some trenches of muddy water. The heat and sun were worse than the course so far. This was going well. Then we hit the barbed wire. About 50 feet of it. Some of it was electrified. I’ve crawled under barbed wire before but never this low, never this much. The ground was grassy, but that was too gentle, so sharp landscaping stones were sprinkled throughout the course to drag your body across. The sun beat down hard. Sweat poured, grass stuck to our clothes. Pinned numbers were scattered on the ground, ripped off people’s shirts. Now the fun was really beginning.
An elevation change, a woods run, then the sandbag carry. I don’t know how many pounds it was, but we carried it up a steep grade and loose dirt hill, then back down that same hill. Hot, slow, punishing. The climb was slower than you intended your legs to move. Between the weight of the bag and the intense heat, gravity felt twice as heavy. Finally, we dumped the bags at the bottom and pressed on.
More woods, more hiking. We entered the Mohegan Reservation which as a child I would have imagined Native Americans hunting and running through the woods, silent as a deer. Nothing like the slow steady, sometimes clumsy march we were on. Almost everyone was walking now, and eventually we came to the cargo net climb. This was about 12 or 15 feet high, I’m not good with distances. The net was only so big and with so many people on it, it bounced and stretched in every direction, making climbing and coming over the top extra challenging. Several people who had made it over pulled a turn at the bottom, pulling it taut by sitting on the ground, bracing the net with arms and legs to keep the tension on and assist other climbers get over with out getting literally bounced off. When I got over, I took a turn at the bottom, while a guy who weighed in at approximately 240 lbs. nearly came crashing down on me. He didn’t, thankfully. We advanced to the next challenge.
How long is this race?
What was the next challenge? I’m not even sure. There was a spear throw, and inverted wall climb, a rope climb over 4 feet of freezing cold water, more walls, more barriers to scootch under and over and through. I failed the spear throw (had to make it stick in a hay target), which meant 30 burpees, and I failed the rope climb over the cold water, which was another 30 burpees. The heat was insane. I was about 20 burpees in after the rope climb when I felt a shrill pain from the back of both my thighs simultaneously. I froze mid-burpee and crawled into an upright pose. I had really pulled something–two somethings, equally, and I didn’t feel bad about NOT doing the additional 10 burpees. I took a break and strolled to the next obstacle, which was lifting a 60 lb. round cannonball off the ground, carry it across to another station, drop it, do 5 burpees, then pick it up and carry it back. Asinine. There was a real back up at this challenge for the women, because many women struggled lifting the 60 round pounds. We were allowed to help each other on this, it was really the only way to keep things moving. I was happy I was able to left it on my own, but passed the round cement ball to another woman waiting on the other side when I was finishing the challenge.
We were now 4 miles into the race, and I thought it all along it was a 5K. We went back into the woods and up a steep rocky path, a rock garden, more switch backs. 90% of the people were walking. We could see the casino now. We flipped a few humongous tires, then climbed a few stories up a wooden ladder, across a massive platform that bridged a street, and back down. This was the last bunch of challenges and all at the finale. The herculean hoist, the traverse wall, the rope walk up a slanted wall, and finally–the fire jump. We were done! Medals and bananas and a free t-shirt awaited us.
We didn’t stay for the free beer–my coupon was ripped off my bib a left to be found somewhere on the course. We had left the house at 6:45AM and didn’t get home until 5:30PM. I was out cold by 8PM. Two days later and I’m still moving like a geriatric. I won’t underestimate a Spartan Sprint again.