Unlike Friday, Saturday we were starting both early and driving to a different location to start. There was rain in the forecast for the afternoon, so we opted to get an early start in attempt to get the ride in before the rain. It was about a 40 minute drive to the state park where we were starting, and at 9am the 37 degree temps were cold, but like yesterday, it wasn’t that big a deal, at least not for me.
Pete promised some pretty serious climbing. To get to the park, we had driven down one of the roads we would be riding down, and it was one that made you gulp for sure. We did a nice gentle 20 minute warm-up where one of the guys who had been to the camp before pointed out a wall on the top of the mountain and informed all of us newbies that the wall was our first destination.
As we started climbing, that wall always seemed to be pretty far to my right and way way higher than me. I had heard people say just to get in a rhythm for this 3 mile (really 4 mile) climb. When we started, everyone was completely overdressed for the weather, but then to be climbing for the next 30 minutes, people were really overdressed. I went from pretty chilled to dripping with sweat in about 15 minutes, and I was probably wearing less than most. The guy ahead of me was wearing a full head Balaklava and was nearly suffocating as he tried to take it off without taking off his helmet….he eventually stopped to take it off. But, this climb called Hyner View just seemed to get harder and harder. As I got about half way up, I “was not a hero” again and dropped it into granny. It didn’t seem that hard, so I started freaking out that if I felt this bad on the first climb of the day, that it was going to be a REALLY LONG or a REALLY SHORT day on the bike. When I got to the top of this hill, I had 50 minutes in the saddle and was only 8 miles into the ride. At the top, we took some photos, and I heard some kid say, “man, I can’t believe those people rode their bikes up here.” I couldn’t help myself so I responded, “Me neither!”
I feel like there is a general divide between people who love descents and people who are scared to death of them. I am quite the latter. Riding down this hill had the supreme advantage of letting me know that the climb really was that steep, that I wasn’t that pathetic, but I was clutching my brake levers as though they were my only chance of survival. I fought off the hand cramps that came with clutching the brakes for 4 miles to make it down safely. There was one moment when I saw my life flash before my eyes, when a truck rounded a hairpin turn and had I been two feet to my left, it would have been lights out Marie! I did hear that the one guy who was pedaling?!?! the downhill did slide out, but he is good enough to right the ship.
Once at the bottom, we were going to do the significantly longer more difficult Hyner Mountain. Pete was quickly outvoted as we made our way to a route Pete hadn’t taken people on before. It was a quick 5 or 6 miles down the road and then to a 4 mile false flat and then to a 30 mile loop to close out the day with that Hyner Mountain (which was later nixed by all but 1 person). It was about here that I started getting schooled in my strengths and my weaknesses as a cyclist.
As we made our way to the false flat, I got dropped from the group. I mean, I was suffering for maybe 2 miles, but I just couldn’t hang so I dropped off. But, as usual, I quickly regrouped and once we started to approach the false flat, I caught back with the rest of the group that had had gotten dropped by the main group. While most of the others in my group turned around, I decided to finish up the false flat climb and make my way down. On the descent, I worked on trying to catch people’s wheels as they flew by, but it’s obviously a weakness I have – suffering. I just don’t do it well.
Once we got down to the bottom, we found that van with our supplies of food. I ate a PB&J sandwich, bought a Diet Pepsi and a twix at the local store, and hung out with the group as some of the people made their way up an optional 20% grade 2 mile climb. Now, there was a bit of a miscommunication as Pete’s girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Pete went from annoyed to starting to panic when word returned that she had parked and opted to hike up the 2 mile climb.
For the first time, I Johnny Clayed it. People were still hanging, and I just knew that the 30 mile loop was going to be long, with a headwind, and a struggle. Pete gave me the directions for the loop so I put them in my phone and took off. That took off should sound more like a car puttering down a dirt road, but there I was, going down the road. I made my way to the loop we were about to do and realized that I would be climbing for a long time. Since Pete had promised there would be no climbs as long as the 10 miler, I just got in a rhythm and just road. About 8 minutes into the climb, the strong group caught me. I said hi and let them go without a thought. I knew there were others behind me so I kind of had them as motivation to keep me moving up the hill. Then it kind of happened, I felt this sensation at being at one with this climb and my bike. It was this wonderful moment of kind of saying goodbye to a good friend like a college roommate. Truth be told, I have a new road bike, and this camp would be the last kind of ride my old Specialized and I are likely to do together. It was a great moment, even if it was with my inanimate bike. After this 8 mile climb, I got to the top and cruised down. People were waiting at the bottom, and I found myself having just profoundly having enjoyed the last hour on the bike.
The group pushed off for the last 25 miles together, and I was prohibited from Johnny Claying it. Pete said he would ride with me, but I was doing a fairly good job of staying with the group. Then, it was like I magically hit this 4 mile mark and fall of the line. It’s not even like I am getting dropped so much as I am falling off the line. But, per usual, I regrouped and started riding stronger than I had been riding all day. After about 20 minutes, Pete came back for me to make sure I was okay only to be shocked by how strong I was riding, pushing along going 20-22 mph on my own. The other woman in the group had fallen off the group, but when I passed her, she was still suffering from the line and couldn’t catch my wheel. As I kept riding, I felt strong and stronger. When we made the final turn for the last 10 miles, we had an awesome tailwind, and I pulled Pete, the other woman and her husband for 5 miles straight, often riding 25-26 mph. Pete pulled up to me and just said, “Wow!” He told me he was going to go back and pick up the other two who I had dropped but that I obviously didn’t need him to pull me as I was plenty strong to finish the ride.
Pete basically pulled them up so that when we made the turn back into the state park, we were all together, but I had a sense of accomplishment and a sense of understanding that I hadn’t realized before. If I want to be a roadie, I need to learn how to suffer. If I want to stay with ultracycling, I need to keep doing what I am doing: go off before you blow off, regroup, and ride strong.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Cycling Camp - Day 1
So, this post is about a week overdue so let's see what I can do.
Last weekend (the 12th through the 15th), I went to cycling camp in the Black Forest, Pennsylvania. This camp is run by my former coach Pete Gladden. While Pete is not my coach this year, it has nothing to do with his coaching, just my lack of a tangible goal for which I need a coach. I think he is awesome, and he proved that over and over again during camp.
Anyway, this camp promised to provide challenging climbing with a lot of time on the bike with tired legs. As he said, if we wanted to ride flat, we would go to Nebraska. I was intimidated when I saw the other people who were there, and I was more intimidated when I saw the mountains that surrounded our lodge.
We stayed at a very nice little lodge called Hotel Manor in Slate Run, Pennsylvania. Hotel Manor makes the bulk of its money from trout fishermen, but was a great base for camp. While the rooms were much nicer than I expected, they weren't exactly what I would call "private." Trout fishermen must have no secrets as I had an adjoining room with the only married couple in our group and while the door always stayed closed and locked, I could hear every word they said. Fearing that I would possibly hear more than I wanted and not wanting to violate their privacy, I spent nearly every waking minute and most of my sleeping ones with headphones in my ears. Just as an FYI, I would not book this place for a romantic getaway if you know what I mean...
But, Friday's morning we started the ride at 10AM. While others complained it was still cold, it was sunny and over 40 degrees so I just rolled my eyes and appreciated being able to ride my bike all day rather than be in an office building staring at an excel spreadsheet.
The ride started off well with just a beautiful gently rolling road for about 50 minutes or so. We all stopped and stripped clothing then started back going again. Right away, a couple of people had fallen off the back (OTB) from the main group. Seeing the pace of the main group, I decided to drop back and save myself for the rest of the weekend. Someone else noticed my pace and opted to join me rather than kill himself in the first "flat" 40 miles of the day's ride. He and I were riding well together and were then joined by Pete who helped pull us for about an hour. This second road wasn't flat, but it was considered the easy part of the ride as it had some nice short power climbs to keep us honest. Pete would occasionally yell at me for mashing my pedals and really pushed me to use the appropriate gear. (For non-cyclists, mashing usually involves climbing in a big gear with a low cadence, muscling your way up a hill). Once we made the next turn, I kind of wanted to pull a Johnny Clay. Now, Johnny Clay is just an awesome member of the Long Distance riding group that I ride with from Berea. Typically, he is OTB, but he is proactive about it. He almost always leaves ahead of everyone so he can get a headstart on the group then doesn't stop at the stops but rides by to let us know it's time to chase him down again. All weekend, I wanted to be like Johnny Clay. From this second stop, things stopped being flat.
The first climb was up to a town called Lock Haven, and while it wasn't steep, it was an annoyingly long false flat. I wouldn't have known I was climbing except that I was going pretty slowly, but was still within eyeshot of the main group for quite a while. Once we got to Lock Haven, I decided that a couple of hours was long enough to go without really eating, so I mauled down a PB&J sandwich. While standing there, this local said, "oh, you are going to climb that mountain, huh? Good luck." Those words had a sense of foreboding as I made my turn down the road by myself. I started the climb and started to think it wasn't so bad yet, which made me nervous because people don't wish you luck while riding up a baby hill...and then I saw it: my first switchback. Now, I started going and just kept riding. I was riding in some pretty easy gears and yes, even my granny gear! I don't know what it is, but everytime I drop into granny, I have to tell myself, "don't be a hero, it's okay." Well, granny and I were "not heros" often during the weekend...I just wanted to make it up the hill without falling over. As I got up what I thought was about two-thirds of the way up this climb, an old lady came out to get her mail and said to me, "this is a pretty big hill, isn't it?" To which I responded, "Yes, yes it is." After about 5 miles, I saw Pete video taping in the middle of the road and said to him some rather infamous words from the weekend, "F*** this Pete, this hill is b***s***!" Little did I know that Pete was not standing on the top of the hill, but no, basically the middle of a road that would proceed to ride the ridge of this particular mountain for another 5 miles. WTF, 10 miles of climbing! While I know that I was climbing better than some of the people to whom I caught up, I had granny to thank and a bad attitude starting to form. When we finally got to the top, I didn't want to wait for others and started my way down the 5 mile descent. Sounds awesome, yes, but Miss Attitude was approaching a state of bonking "Get me off the bike now!" that is usually only reserved for much more extreme circumstances. After the descent, it was another 15 miles of rollers back to the hotel and rollers with a nice 10-15mph headwind! While with Miss Attitude it tow, I finally made it back to the hotel and finished the ride nowing that Day 2 promised to be even tougher.
Last weekend (the 12th through the 15th), I went to cycling camp in the Black Forest, Pennsylvania. This camp is run by my former coach Pete Gladden. While Pete is not my coach this year, it has nothing to do with his coaching, just my lack of a tangible goal for which I need a coach. I think he is awesome, and he proved that over and over again during camp.
Anyway, this camp promised to provide challenging climbing with a lot of time on the bike with tired legs. As he said, if we wanted to ride flat, we would go to Nebraska. I was intimidated when I saw the other people who were there, and I was more intimidated when I saw the mountains that surrounded our lodge.
We stayed at a very nice little lodge called Hotel Manor in Slate Run, Pennsylvania. Hotel Manor makes the bulk of its money from trout fishermen, but was a great base for camp. While the rooms were much nicer than I expected, they weren't exactly what I would call "private." Trout fishermen must have no secrets as I had an adjoining room with the only married couple in our group and while the door always stayed closed and locked, I could hear every word they said. Fearing that I would possibly hear more than I wanted and not wanting to violate their privacy, I spent nearly every waking minute and most of my sleeping ones with headphones in my ears. Just as an FYI, I would not book this place for a romantic getaway if you know what I mean...
But, Friday's morning we started the ride at 10AM. While others complained it was still cold, it was sunny and over 40 degrees so I just rolled my eyes and appreciated being able to ride my bike all day rather than be in an office building staring at an excel spreadsheet.
The ride started off well with just a beautiful gently rolling road for about 50 minutes or so. We all stopped and stripped clothing then started back going again. Right away, a couple of people had fallen off the back (OTB) from the main group. Seeing the pace of the main group, I decided to drop back and save myself for the rest of the weekend. Someone else noticed my pace and opted to join me rather than kill himself in the first "flat" 40 miles of the day's ride. He and I were riding well together and were then joined by Pete who helped pull us for about an hour. This second road wasn't flat, but it was considered the easy part of the ride as it had some nice short power climbs to keep us honest. Pete would occasionally yell at me for mashing my pedals and really pushed me to use the appropriate gear. (For non-cyclists, mashing usually involves climbing in a big gear with a low cadence, muscling your way up a hill). Once we made the next turn, I kind of wanted to pull a Johnny Clay. Now, Johnny Clay is just an awesome member of the Long Distance riding group that I ride with from Berea. Typically, he is OTB, but he is proactive about it. He almost always leaves ahead of everyone so he can get a headstart on the group then doesn't stop at the stops but rides by to let us know it's time to chase him down again. All weekend, I wanted to be like Johnny Clay. From this second stop, things stopped being flat.
The first climb was up to a town called Lock Haven, and while it wasn't steep, it was an annoyingly long false flat. I wouldn't have known I was climbing except that I was going pretty slowly, but was still within eyeshot of the main group for quite a while. Once we got to Lock Haven, I decided that a couple of hours was long enough to go without really eating, so I mauled down a PB&J sandwich. While standing there, this local said, "oh, you are going to climb that mountain, huh? Good luck." Those words had a sense of foreboding as I made my turn down the road by myself. I started the climb and started to think it wasn't so bad yet, which made me nervous because people don't wish you luck while riding up a baby hill...and then I saw it: my first switchback. Now, I started going and just kept riding. I was riding in some pretty easy gears and yes, even my granny gear! I don't know what it is, but everytime I drop into granny, I have to tell myself, "don't be a hero, it's okay." Well, granny and I were "not heros" often during the weekend...I just wanted to make it up the hill without falling over. As I got up what I thought was about two-thirds of the way up this climb, an old lady came out to get her mail and said to me, "this is a pretty big hill, isn't it?" To which I responded, "Yes, yes it is." After about 5 miles, I saw Pete video taping in the middle of the road and said to him some rather infamous words from the weekend, "F*** this Pete, this hill is b***s***!" Little did I know that Pete was not standing on the top of the hill, but no, basically the middle of a road that would proceed to ride the ridge of this particular mountain for another 5 miles. WTF, 10 miles of climbing! While I know that I was climbing better than some of the people to whom I caught up, I had granny to thank and a bad attitude starting to form. When we finally got to the top, I didn't want to wait for others and started my way down the 5 mile descent. Sounds awesome, yes, but Miss Attitude was approaching a state of bonking "Get me off the bike now!" that is usually only reserved for much more extreme circumstances. After the descent, it was another 15 miles of rollers back to the hotel and rollers with a nice 10-15mph headwind! While with Miss Attitude it tow, I finally made it back to the hotel and finished the ride nowing that Day 2 promised to be even tougher.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Massillon Tiger Trot 5K Race Report
Today's race was about 5 months in the making. Sometime in November, I convinced my sister to train to run a 5k. Now, my sister has a long standing philosophy of "running only when chased" so running a 5k was a big goal. We started the day after Thanksgiving with a track workout where we ran the straightaways and walked the turns. I gave my sister a few starter workouts and then a training program and off she went. I think she just needed someone to believe that she could do it. Determination is not in short supply in Rote women, which she proved to me once again today.
I picked up my sister and my mom (going along as a spectator) and then headed down to Massillon for the race. My sister had lots of little questions like "what's in a race packet?" "How do I attach a race number?" "Will there be bathrooms?" Sometimes, I think I forget how common going to a race is for me.
We got there around an hour early for the race, picked up our race numbers and shirts. We got ready for the race, and then I had my mom take a pre-race photo. I then went for about a ten minute warmup.
As I got back, I went to the bathroom, then found my sister and listened to the pre-race talk, where it was confirmed that the run was an out and back. As quickly as that, the race started. I wished my sister luck and went to run at my own pace. Truth be told, I had thoughts of PRing at this race, but no such luck. I had a heavy workout week so I was pretty sure my legs weren't prepared for a fast race, despite all of the interval workouts I have been doing.
I created a playlist for this race and even put the songs in a particular order so I would know how the race was going without having to look at my watch. If I heard a song repeat, I would know I was having a bad race.
Well, a quarter mile into the race, the road turned, and there was a little hill that turned into another hill and then another. The first mile of this race was all uphill! What the $%$#? Seriously, I got to the first mile at about 9 minutes. Now, I know I am slow, but that was one tough mile. I made a turn and down a little hill we went, then ran a little ways and down another. The mental, are you f'ing kidding me, I didn't want to run back up them. The first mile killed me. As I started seeing people running towards me from the turn around, I started to notice that, despite my slow pace, there weren't that many people and definitely not many women ahead of me. The thought popped in my head, "Could I actually place at a running race?"
I hit the turn around at the bottom of a little hill by Tiger Stadium and worked my way through the second half of the course. As I made my way up the smaller hills, I scanned the oncoming runners to find my sister. I saw my sister about 5 or 6 minutes behind me. I gave her a little cheer and continued to focus on getting to the finish line. As I made it to the down hill, I started to realize that I was hurting. A couple of times, I thought about stopping, trying to slow down a bit, but I kept pushing through convincing myself that I could keep a faster pace.
I crossed the line with a watch time of 26:39, but a chip time of 26:42, not all that fast, but this was a tough course. I saw my mom, stood with her for a few minutes to recover then went out and jogged to find my sister. I jogged down the road and caught up with her with about a quarter mile left. She was definitely ready to be done, but she kept moving. I ran with her to the turn to the finish then yelled for her to "sprint it in!" and she did. She did her first 5k in 39:01, about a minute faster pace than any of her training runs. My mom was proud of her, and that was a great thing to see, not that my mom is rarely proud of her, but just seeing it on her face was a precious moment.
Out of 243 people, I was 73rd, my sister 189. I was the 20th overall female and.... 2nd in my age group!!!!
Some thoughts about this race:
1. I have a PR of a 5k of 24:48. Will I ever beat it?
2. I was definitely hurting during this race, but I think I could have gone faster. I don't know if it's mental focus or willingness to hurt that intensely for that long that prevents me from going faster.
3. It took me years to convince myself that I could run further than 2 miles, and my sister did it 5 months. She's a badass!
4. This race had 179 feet of elevation gain in 3.1 miles. That's a ton considering half of this race was down hill.
Now, I had some thoughts of PRing at this 5k today. I mean, I have been doing tons of speedwork over the last month, and I am getting faster, but after a long run Friday morning, I knew that my legs just didn't have it.
I picked up my sister and my mom (going along as a spectator) and then headed down to Massillon for the race. My sister had lots of little questions like "what's in a race packet?" "How do I attach a race number?" "Will there be bathrooms?" Sometimes, I think I forget how common going to a race is for me.
We got there around an hour early for the race, picked up our race numbers and shirts. We got ready for the race, and then I had my mom take a pre-race photo. I then went for about a ten minute warmup.
As I got back, I went to the bathroom, then found my sister and listened to the pre-race talk, where it was confirmed that the run was an out and back. As quickly as that, the race started. I wished my sister luck and went to run at my own pace. Truth be told, I had thoughts of PRing at this race, but no such luck. I had a heavy workout week so I was pretty sure my legs weren't prepared for a fast race, despite all of the interval workouts I have been doing.
I created a playlist for this race and even put the songs in a particular order so I would know how the race was going without having to look at my watch. If I heard a song repeat, I would know I was having a bad race.
Well, a quarter mile into the race, the road turned, and there was a little hill that turned into another hill and then another. The first mile of this race was all uphill! What the $%$#? Seriously, I got to the first mile at about 9 minutes. Now, I know I am slow, but that was one tough mile. I made a turn and down a little hill we went, then ran a little ways and down another. The mental, are you f'ing kidding me, I didn't want to run back up them. The first mile killed me. As I started seeing people running towards me from the turn around, I started to notice that, despite my slow pace, there weren't that many people and definitely not many women ahead of me. The thought popped in my head, "Could I actually place at a running race?"
I hit the turn around at the bottom of a little hill by Tiger Stadium and worked my way through the second half of the course. As I made my way up the smaller hills, I scanned the oncoming runners to find my sister. I saw my sister about 5 or 6 minutes behind me. I gave her a little cheer and continued to focus on getting to the finish line. As I made it to the down hill, I started to realize that I was hurting. A couple of times, I thought about stopping, trying to slow down a bit, but I kept pushing through convincing myself that I could keep a faster pace.
I crossed the line with a watch time of 26:39, but a chip time of 26:42, not all that fast, but this was a tough course. I saw my mom, stood with her for a few minutes to recover then went out and jogged to find my sister. I jogged down the road and caught up with her with about a quarter mile left. She was definitely ready to be done, but she kept moving. I ran with her to the turn to the finish then yelled for her to "sprint it in!" and she did. She did her first 5k in 39:01, about a minute faster pace than any of her training runs. My mom was proud of her, and that was a great thing to see, not that my mom is rarely proud of her, but just seeing it on her face was a precious moment.
Out of 243 people, I was 73rd, my sister 189. I was the 20th overall female and.... 2nd in my age group!!!!
Some thoughts about this race:
1. I have a PR of a 5k of 24:48. Will I ever beat it?
2. I was definitely hurting during this race, but I think I could have gone faster. I don't know if it's mental focus or willingness to hurt that intensely for that long that prevents me from going faster.
3. It took me years to convince myself that I could run further than 2 miles, and my sister did it 5 months. She's a badass!
4. This race had 179 feet of elevation gain in 3.1 miles. That's a ton considering half of this race was down hill.
Now, I had some thoughts of PRing at this 5k today. I mean, I have been doing tons of speedwork over the last month, and I am getting faster, but after a long run Friday morning, I knew that my legs just didn't have it.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Questions from Yesterday's Ride
1. While I am never a fan of white cycling shorts, who decides to wear white cycling shorts when the forecast calls for rain? Wet roads = a really weird looking pattern on your behind.
2. What mountain is Kent, Ohio on that I climbed for 10 miles to get there?
3. Why it is so hard to grab someone's back wheel as they they pull ahead of me? I mean, seriously, why can't I do it?
4. How did we ride over 100 miles yesterday and not get rained on while Mentor rode for 2 hours and got soaked?
5. Why does nothing ever look appealing to eat after a long ride even though I am absolutely starving?
6. Would I be a better cyclist on a carbon road bike? (Say yes as I am really trying to rationalize this one).
7. Why is the pavement heading south on the Valley Parkway so much worse than riding north?
8. Who knew that a grilled cheese sandwich at the Franklin Square Deli would be the best thing I have eaten ever on a bike ride?
9. Did any of the employees at previously mentioned deli notice one of the riders wringing out his sweat rag on their carpeted floor?
10. Will my cycling glasses ever stop fogging?
2. What mountain is Kent, Ohio on that I climbed for 10 miles to get there?
3. Why it is so hard to grab someone's back wheel as they they pull ahead of me? I mean, seriously, why can't I do it?
4. How did we ride over 100 miles yesterday and not get rained on while Mentor rode for 2 hours and got soaked?
5. Why does nothing ever look appealing to eat after a long ride even though I am absolutely starving?
6. Would I be a better cyclist on a carbon road bike? (Say yes as I am really trying to rationalize this one).
7. Why is the pavement heading south on the Valley Parkway so much worse than riding north?
8. Who knew that a grilled cheese sandwich at the Franklin Square Deli would be the best thing I have eaten ever on a bike ride?
9. Did any of the employees at previously mentioned deli notice one of the riders wringing out his sweat rag on their carpeted floor?
10. Will my cycling glasses ever stop fogging?
Monday, March 12, 2012
Sunday's Long Ride
The ride started in pristine fashion with me yelling at Eric to wait up for me because "my bootie's stuck!" The weather on Sunday proved to make dressing appropriately for the ride, well, just impossible. Despite the promise of 60 degree weather in the afternoon, at 9am, it was a chilly 37 degrees, just too cold not to wear booties over my shoes. As the group started the ride, I went to clip into my pedals and couldn't get my right foot to click. I quickly realized something was blocking it, so I pulled over and realized my shoe cover was stuck on part of the cleat (part of the shoe that locks onto the pedal). With the help of a friend, we were able to get the bootie off the cleat, but not before we were left in the dust by the rest of the group.
After a few minutes of harder than desired effort, we got back to the group... and then a minute later, I hit a bump and down my seatpost went. Now, I snapped the bolt connecting me seatpost to my saddle a few weeks ago and was worried about it, but I thought the problem was going to be a bad seat position, not it falling down. Part of me thought about just fixing it and turning around to call it a day, but I was literally 12 minutes into the ride. I didn't drive to Berea for a 24 minute ride. So, I rushed to get the seatpost up, and I actually found the line marking the proper height for my seatpost. The guy who fit me on my bike put a groove into the seatpost so I could fix it if the seatpost was ever moved by a twitchy handed mechanic or something else. I then got out my cue sheet and made a few turns and found Eric who hadn't waited with me, but had soft-pedaled to make sure I didn't get lost. Sometimes, he's okay even if he did keep asking me if I needed a tissue to wipe my tears since SO wasn't there.
I knew there was no way we were going to catch back up to the big group, but I had some solace in knowing we had a stop relatively early on the route. We quickly caught up with a few people, and I assumed that they had waited for Eric so I kept working in vain to try to catch the big group, when I looked back, and they were significantly behind me. That's when I realized that
Eric was staying back with the people who couldn't keep a faster pace, and since I tend to get lost on these rides when I am riding by myself, I decided to try to help pull and stay in a group...not really a choice, I mean, ride harder and get lost or take it easy and stay on course.
When we made it to the first stop, I quickly went to the bathroom and then asked TC to help me adjust my saddle position, the height was right, but the angle was wrong. Well, it didn't take us long, but long enough that he and I along with a woman named Kim were kind of left behind. We were about 30 seconds behind the group, but that was enough with the bit of a headwind we had to keep us from re-joining the group. Truth be told, at that point, I hadn't really ridden with the main group at all so it would have been joining the group for me. Oh well, it was only about 10 miles to Medina, so it was just more time to enjoy not hammering on the bike. After a bit, Eric and TC held up and waited for the stragglers at the turns, and I kind of went and played sweeper. There was a bit of a headwind, and so when people fell of the pace line, they fell way behind, kind of noodling in the wind. As I rode, I caught up with about three different guys struggling in the wind. As a result of my playing conductor on the dropped train, one of the guys was so grateful that he bought me a cookie at the Java Bean cafe.
After a few "bonus miles" getting lost in Medina, we headed to Creston, and for once, I actually found myself riding with the group. I don't think anyone was hammering. I think it was a pretty conversational pace, at least for this group, but it was nice to keep up and still feel like I was putting in a solid effort. In Creston, we split into two groups: the century riders and the not feeling like killing myself group. I went with the latter, and while I think I could have handled a century, I was worried about my back and opted to play it safe.
The ride back was just awesome! The one woman who was definitely slower than the rest kind of gave us an excuse to take it easy and just enjoy each other's company and the wonderful weather on the bike. We didn't ride all that slowly, but we would wait for her at the turns,which gave us little pockets of breaks and enabled her to stay relatively close to the group. There was also a woman in this group, Christa, who I look up to as the kind of cyclist I want to be. According to TC, she makes riding strong look effortless, kind of the goal of any athlete to make the difficult look easy.
After crossing a major highway, we stopped on the side of the road to strip out of the layers of clothes we were wearing. We all looked like our own different version of a hunchback with our cycling pockets filled with tights and booties and jackets. Oh, but to feel air on my legs was just amazing!
The ride back was pretty uneventful until the other woman Christa and I both needed to hit a restroom, or at least some trees. We rode off from the guys, but by the time we found somewhere and realized we were digging through thorn bushes, they passed us on their way back. I have a few cuts and scraps from the thorns, but sometimes, a girl has to do what a girl has to do. We got back on the bikes, and we worked together to get back to the group by trading off pulls to catch up with the rest of the group.
We got back to Berea right around 3 pm with 70 miles under our belts. I think we all felt good and were all happy for Kim to have made it through such a long ride. It's days like Sunday that remind me why I love cycling so much.
After a few minutes of harder than desired effort, we got back to the group... and then a minute later, I hit a bump and down my seatpost went. Now, I snapped the bolt connecting me seatpost to my saddle a few weeks ago and was worried about it, but I thought the problem was going to be a bad seat position, not it falling down. Part of me thought about just fixing it and turning around to call it a day, but I was literally 12 minutes into the ride. I didn't drive to Berea for a 24 minute ride. So, I rushed to get the seatpost up, and I actually found the line marking the proper height for my seatpost. The guy who fit me on my bike put a groove into the seatpost so I could fix it if the seatpost was ever moved by a twitchy handed mechanic or something else. I then got out my cue sheet and made a few turns and found Eric who hadn't waited with me, but had soft-pedaled to make sure I didn't get lost. Sometimes, he's okay even if he did keep asking me if I needed a tissue to wipe my tears since SO wasn't there.
I knew there was no way we were going to catch back up to the big group, but I had some solace in knowing we had a stop relatively early on the route. We quickly caught up with a few people, and I assumed that they had waited for Eric so I kept working in vain to try to catch the big group, when I looked back, and they were significantly behind me. That's when I realized that
Eric was staying back with the people who couldn't keep a faster pace, and since I tend to get lost on these rides when I am riding by myself, I decided to try to help pull and stay in a group...not really a choice, I mean, ride harder and get lost or take it easy and stay on course.
When we made it to the first stop, I quickly went to the bathroom and then asked TC to help me adjust my saddle position, the height was right, but the angle was wrong. Well, it didn't take us long, but long enough that he and I along with a woman named Kim were kind of left behind. We were about 30 seconds behind the group, but that was enough with the bit of a headwind we had to keep us from re-joining the group. Truth be told, at that point, I hadn't really ridden with the main group at all so it would have been joining the group for me. Oh well, it was only about 10 miles to Medina, so it was just more time to enjoy not hammering on the bike. After a bit, Eric and TC held up and waited for the stragglers at the turns, and I kind of went and played sweeper. There was a bit of a headwind, and so when people fell of the pace line, they fell way behind, kind of noodling in the wind. As I rode, I caught up with about three different guys struggling in the wind. As a result of my playing conductor on the dropped train, one of the guys was so grateful that he bought me a cookie at the Java Bean cafe.
After a few "bonus miles" getting lost in Medina, we headed to Creston, and for once, I actually found myself riding with the group. I don't think anyone was hammering. I think it was a pretty conversational pace, at least for this group, but it was nice to keep up and still feel like I was putting in a solid effort. In Creston, we split into two groups: the century riders and the not feeling like killing myself group. I went with the latter, and while I think I could have handled a century, I was worried about my back and opted to play it safe.
The ride back was just awesome! The one woman who was definitely slower than the rest kind of gave us an excuse to take it easy and just enjoy each other's company and the wonderful weather on the bike. We didn't ride all that slowly, but we would wait for her at the turns,which gave us little pockets of breaks and enabled her to stay relatively close to the group. There was also a woman in this group, Christa, who I look up to as the kind of cyclist I want to be. According to TC, she makes riding strong look effortless, kind of the goal of any athlete to make the difficult look easy.
After crossing a major highway, we stopped on the side of the road to strip out of the layers of clothes we were wearing. We all looked like our own different version of a hunchback with our cycling pockets filled with tights and booties and jackets. Oh, but to feel air on my legs was just amazing!
The ride back was pretty uneventful until the other woman Christa and I both needed to hit a restroom, or at least some trees. We rode off from the guys, but by the time we found somewhere and realized we were digging through thorn bushes, they passed us on their way back. I have a few cuts and scraps from the thorns, but sometimes, a girl has to do what a girl has to do. We got back on the bikes, and we worked together to get back to the group by trading off pulls to catch up with the rest of the group.
We got back to Berea right around 3 pm with 70 miles under our belts. I think we all felt good and were all happy for Kim to have made it through such a long ride. It's days like Sunday that remind me why I love cycling so much.
Friday, March 9, 2012
My Forrest Gump Summer Approaches
Anyone who has ever raced me or seen me race or knows anything about me as a triathlete knows that I am a strong swimmer, a strong cyclist, but a horrible runner. Someone else coined the phrase "control the bleeding" to describe how they try to manage how many slots they drop in the final leg of a triathlon: the run. I don't bleed, I hemorrhage.
My perfect example:
Last year, SO decided he wanted to do the Great Buckeye Challenge as a final tune-up before Wisconsin. Side note: GREAT RACE! I highly recommend it! He wanted to do the half ironman, and I was happy with doing the Olympic or "Mini" triathlon (technically not an Olympic because of a shorter than regulation swim). I had begged my coach to let me do one long ride before IM so I was suppose to do a 100 miler on Saturday than a hour run on Sunday. Well, I did about an 85 mile ride on Saturday and replaced the run with a triathlon. As an aside, he was not upset with the decision, once again proud of my swim and bike, but perplexed by how could I be such a bad runner.
I am not bragging about this race, it's just comical to me:
My swim: fastest female split (not including the one elite)
My bike: fastest female split (not including the one elite)
Note: While I think I had good times on these legs, I think the bulk of the competitive athletes were either in the sprint or the half, it was just a small field of people actually doing this distance.
Despite my garmin not working, my helmet lining coming unbuckled, causing the thing to bounce off my sunglasses the entire time on the bike, and picking a hat that just didn't seem to want to stay on my head, I had an absolute blast! There was little wind (for me on the first loop, SO told me it picked up for his second lap), the course was pretty flat, and I was just sailing, joking around with the guys I was passing and who were passing me... until the run.
I believe I had a 2 to 3 minute lead on the field going into the run, not bad considering the effort I had put on the bike the day before. I held that lead for the first couple of miles of the run and then I started getting passed. I ended up getting 4th overall and losing the race to the overall winner by OVER 6 MINUTES. In nearly 4 miles, she bested me by a minute and a half PER MILE. I had a great experience at this race, understood that some of the horrible run was probably a result to not being fresh, but it was a clear sign that my running was what most people could only describe as awful.
I have been talking a great deal this past off season about working on my run. This year is going to be all about the run, but that was all it seemed to be: talk. I mean, when I started running after my surgery, I was running some pretty not impressive 11 minute miles and only 2 at a time. How am I going to get faster when I just made my pace so much worse? People gave me recommendations, and then I had this epiphany, why not ask my high school track coach? He's the most accomplished runner I know, he took himself from a 3:30 to a 2:35 marathon, he seems to know a thing or two about getting faster, what harm comes from asking?
So, I went to talk to him, and he was excited and eager to help me out. I should say, when I ran my first marathon 5 years ago, I remember talking to him about it, and he was so stoked. I remember him saying, "who would have thought you would run a marathon." I love that comment because it captures a sense of pride along with the acknowledgement of how far I had come. Oh, and if you were wondering, I did track in high school, but the field side of things. I was a pretty good discus thrower and an inconsistent shot-putter. My old throwing coach once told someone I was good because I was big and had the benefit of the power of momentum my weight generated. And sometimes I wonder why I hated high school...
But back to the the point, the season starts with a goal of a sub 54 minute at the 10k for the Cleveland marathon. The real goal is the half marathon at Akron in September, but my performance at Cleveland will determine if that goal will be adjusted, or if he still thinks it's reasonable. So starting this weekend, I will be running 3-5 days a week so watch out Forrest, there will be another running fool in town.
My perfect example:
Last year, SO decided he wanted to do the Great Buckeye Challenge as a final tune-up before Wisconsin. Side note: GREAT RACE! I highly recommend it! He wanted to do the half ironman, and I was happy with doing the Olympic or "Mini" triathlon (technically not an Olympic because of a shorter than regulation swim). I had begged my coach to let me do one long ride before IM so I was suppose to do a 100 miler on Saturday than a hour run on Sunday. Well, I did about an 85 mile ride on Saturday and replaced the run with a triathlon. As an aside, he was not upset with the decision, once again proud of my swim and bike, but perplexed by how could I be such a bad runner.
I am not bragging about this race, it's just comical to me:
My swim: fastest female split (not including the one elite)
My bike: fastest female split (not including the one elite)
Note: While I think I had good times on these legs, I think the bulk of the competitive athletes were either in the sprint or the half, it was just a small field of people actually doing this distance.
Despite my garmin not working, my helmet lining coming unbuckled, causing the thing to bounce off my sunglasses the entire time on the bike, and picking a hat that just didn't seem to want to stay on my head, I had an absolute blast! There was little wind (for me on the first loop, SO told me it picked up for his second lap), the course was pretty flat, and I was just sailing, joking around with the guys I was passing and who were passing me... until the run.
I believe I had a 2 to 3 minute lead on the field going into the run, not bad considering the effort I had put on the bike the day before. I held that lead for the first couple of miles of the run and then I started getting passed. I ended up getting 4th overall and losing the race to the overall winner by OVER 6 MINUTES. In nearly 4 miles, she bested me by a minute and a half PER MILE. I had a great experience at this race, understood that some of the horrible run was probably a result to not being fresh, but it was a clear sign that my running was what most people could only describe as awful.
I have been talking a great deal this past off season about working on my run. This year is going to be all about the run, but that was all it seemed to be: talk. I mean, when I started running after my surgery, I was running some pretty not impressive 11 minute miles and only 2 at a time. How am I going to get faster when I just made my pace so much worse? People gave me recommendations, and then I had this epiphany, why not ask my high school track coach? He's the most accomplished runner I know, he took himself from a 3:30 to a 2:35 marathon, he seems to know a thing or two about getting faster, what harm comes from asking?
So, I went to talk to him, and he was excited and eager to help me out. I should say, when I ran my first marathon 5 years ago, I remember talking to him about it, and he was so stoked. I remember him saying, "who would have thought you would run a marathon." I love that comment because it captures a sense of pride along with the acknowledgement of how far I had come. Oh, and if you were wondering, I did track in high school, but the field side of things. I was a pretty good discus thrower and an inconsistent shot-putter. My old throwing coach once told someone I was good because I was big and had the benefit of the power of momentum my weight generated. And sometimes I wonder why I hated high school...
But back to the the point, the season starts with a goal of a sub 54 minute at the 10k for the Cleveland marathon. The real goal is the half marathon at Akron in September, but my performance at Cleveland will determine if that goal will be adjusted, or if he still thinks it's reasonable. So starting this weekend, I will be running 3-5 days a week so watch out Forrest, there will be another running fool in town.
Monday, March 5, 2012
State Tournament
It was not our most successful state tournament, which kind of hurt after one of our most successful state tournaments last year. It reminded me of the 2009 State Tournament and the possibilities that never came. However, I am so proud of my students and all they accomplished this year. I think they truly enjoyed spending the weekend together, and I enjoyed spending time with them. In a season tainted by one student's anger, my students moved past it to work on their own goals to regroup and find the joy that they find in speech and debate.
I was quite sad on Saturday evening. I am losing three senior boys whose presence has added some frustrations but more often than not lots of laughter to my life. I felt like I had failed one of these students particularly as he is so talented, and I am just not a good enough coach to help him excel. I think I need to work harder as a coach, and I feel bad that I didn't step up this year.
Aside from my students, I truly enjoyed the company of people in the judges' lounge. From other coaches to parents who I have come to know and consider friends, I had plenty of laughs and good stories to share. I honestly don't have any "debatisms" from the weekend, probably because it was state tournament and the absurdity wasn't quite as prevalent.
There are things about state tournament that I find absolutely ridiculous, and while I am horribly tempted to write about them, I will just say that it is what it is. It is a tournament I still want to have a student win so criticisms out the door, it's still the culmination of the season and unfortunately, it's a culmination that always has tears, at least for me.
I was quite sad on Saturday evening. I am losing three senior boys whose presence has added some frustrations but more often than not lots of laughter to my life. I felt like I had failed one of these students particularly as he is so talented, and I am just not a good enough coach to help him excel. I think I need to work harder as a coach, and I feel bad that I didn't step up this year.
Aside from my students, I truly enjoyed the company of people in the judges' lounge. From other coaches to parents who I have come to know and consider friends, I had plenty of laughs and good stories to share. I honestly don't have any "debatisms" from the weekend, probably because it was state tournament and the absurdity wasn't quite as prevalent.
There are things about state tournament that I find absolutely ridiculous, and while I am horribly tempted to write about them, I will just say that it is what it is. It is a tournament I still want to have a student win so criticisms out the door, it's still the culmination of the season and unfortunately, it's a culmination that always has tears, at least for me.
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