On Sunday, for reasons I still don't completely comprehend, I chose to begin my non-cycling exercise by running a short distance. In my worn out shoes. Even though I hate running. One of my "friends" had convinced me that running was the best way to get ready for the upcoming cross country ski season, since, like cross country, it is weight bearing exercise.
I figured I would run slowly and for a short time. How bad could it be? So I strapped on my heart rate monitor, just to see where I got to, and off I went. I started out with the kids in tow, Aaron and Hannah on their scooters. Then Aaron couldn't keep up on the scooter, so we went home and he got his bike. We went around about 2 blocks and it became obvious that he just wasn't up for this. So I ran maybe a total of 5 blocks between both outings, probably no faster than I could have walked. My heart rate never got over 100 bpm.
I dropped off both kids at home, with 15 minutes under my belt and headed out to get a little more speed on. Except that I was still "taking it easy" and I was still running in my broken down shoes. And when I say broken down, I'm not kidding. The outside edge of one or both shoes is actually coming unstitched from the sole and my sock pokes out periodically. Yes, I know I'm too cheap to buy new shoes. It's hard to get motivated to buy equipment to do something you hate. I ran for maybe 5 minutes. My heart rate was still in the 120's, but my quads hurt so bad that I realized I'd better stop and walk. And so, alternating between walking one minute and running 2 - 3, I completed another 20 minutes or so of exercise, for a grand total of under 40 minutes. Maximum heart rate - 134. Average heart rate - 113. Leg pain, excruciating.
I mean, really bad. My feet hurt, my ankles hurt, my quads hurt, my knees hurt. I couldn't walk down stairs without wincing. This clearly was not going to work. And so plan B came into effect.
The whole point of running was to cross train for cycling (my love) and get ready for cross country skiing (which is also awesome). Enter Craigslist. It occurred to me that people were always getting rid of Nordic Trac machines. I had been thinking about looking for one for about a month or so, but it wasn't pressing as I was still racing. Now it seemed a little more important. Wah-lah! Monday about noon I discovered a classic Nordic Trac Pro on sale in Eagan for $25.00. Great condition. The deal was done and I picked it up Monday night.
For whatever reason, I can't get motivated to ride outside in my cool weather gear. It's cold! I don't like it! I know it's in the 50's an in March I'll be loving it, but right now I'm pouting about not being able to wear shorts. So on Tuesday when I was going to ride, but I was stuffy and didn't want to go out in the cold, my new toy beckoned. Forty-five minutes later, I had averaged 142 bpm, done a solid set of 5 minutes plus at just below threshold, and had hit 161 bpm. Much better! And yes, my legs were sore, but it was the good sore. I have found my transition to skiing and some variety from the bike. I'm even looking forward to getting out on the snow. And dare I say it? I might actually RACE on skis this year for the first time ever.
No more HRM until after Thanksgiving. Maybe some Madison training at the track and some "dry land" ski training at Hyland Hills for variety. Wow. That actually sounds like fun....
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Sophomore Slump
I wrapped up year two of my belated cycling career on Thursday night. The first, and only, race of the night was a Bavarian, a "backwards" win-and-out, where the first sprint is for 5th place, two laps later you race for 4th place, and so on until the first place sprint. If you wait to race for 1st and don't win the sprint, you get "no place". Which is what I did, but it was fun. Adam Bergman, former pro roadie, was back for the last night of the season, still racing as a 3 at the velodrome. No idea why I thought I'd duke it out for 1st with him, but I stayed in. It's the event that I won my first track race in last year, so I felt like I should go for it. Then I couldn't get around a rider that Adam and Chris Smith had just overtaken (and who almost rode Chris onto the apron) during the last lap, so I ended up 15 meters back with less than 100 meters to go. So I didn't end up with a maximum effort, which I sort of wanted to for the final night of the year, but what do you do.
I almost didn't race, and I ended up leaving after the Bavarian anyway. I am bushed. Fatigued. Tired. Dare I say, not interested in racing. It's been an interesting Sophomore year. I actually accomplished many of my goals, in spite of the fact I only raced 3 races on the road (not counting 2 weeks at Opus) and under 10 nights at the track. I won Ken Woods. I was very well positioned for Pearl Lake prior to my off-road excursion. I got my Cat. 3 upgrade at the track. And overall, I was faster, stronger, smarter (usually) and had noticeably more endurance than 2005. So why did it feel like such a bummer of a season?
I truly believe there is something to the Sophomore slump idea. I remember my 2nd years of both High School and College sucking. You're not new anymore, but you really don't have the whole thing down yet. Look at your favorite musicians. Did any of them have 2nd albums that were anywhere near as good as the first, or the 3rd for that matter? You work just as hard, or harder to get better, to do better than you did your first year, but you are smacked between the eyes by a combination of unrealistic expectations created by a successful first year (oh, yeah! Moving the next step on should be just as easy as smacking it the first year!) and the fact that you are in fact stronger, smarter, faster than you were your first year. But all the rules change. The competition changes. It's no longer about competing with everyone else who's out there for their first time. Now you're competing against everyone who ISN'T out there for their first time, which of course is a much larger, tougher, faster, smarter, more experienced group.
More than anything, I think I over trained. Partly I got burnt out from training all the way through winter without a significant break last fall, but also bike racing began to take it's rightful place in my life, properly balanced with other priorities. The first year was so engrossing that it ruled my thoughts and time. Now it's becoming a more normal part of my life. But what's odd about that realization is that as I think about next year's goals, I discover they are higher. As if I'd had a great season and I was building on my success, and in a way I am. My goals are around track, with some focus on road time trials. I'll race the road races with the 35+ crowd, which may mean I'm pack fodder, but I consider them low priority races anyway. And I'm ampped about next year. But for now, every time I think "Gee, I should really do a training ride," I know I shouldn't. And I don't. I haven't ridden with my heart rate monitor for 2 weeks. It's staying off until Thanksgiving, when the madness starts again. I'll ski more. I'll get my century in this fall. I'll do some Madison training and make my legs and lungs scream for mercy a couple more times this fall.
Junior year was WAY better.
I almost didn't race, and I ended up leaving after the Bavarian anyway. I am bushed. Fatigued. Tired. Dare I say, not interested in racing. It's been an interesting Sophomore year. I actually accomplished many of my goals, in spite of the fact I only raced 3 races on the road (not counting 2 weeks at Opus) and under 10 nights at the track. I won Ken Woods. I was very well positioned for Pearl Lake prior to my off-road excursion. I got my Cat. 3 upgrade at the track. And overall, I was faster, stronger, smarter (usually) and had noticeably more endurance than 2005. So why did it feel like such a bummer of a season?
I truly believe there is something to the Sophomore slump idea. I remember my 2nd years of both High School and College sucking. You're not new anymore, but you really don't have the whole thing down yet. Look at your favorite musicians. Did any of them have 2nd albums that were anywhere near as good as the first, or the 3rd for that matter? You work just as hard, or harder to get better, to do better than you did your first year, but you are smacked between the eyes by a combination of unrealistic expectations created by a successful first year (oh, yeah! Moving the next step on should be just as easy as smacking it the first year!) and the fact that you are in fact stronger, smarter, faster than you were your first year. But all the rules change. The competition changes. It's no longer about competing with everyone else who's out there for their first time. Now you're competing against everyone who ISN'T out there for their first time, which of course is a much larger, tougher, faster, smarter, more experienced group.
More than anything, I think I over trained. Partly I got burnt out from training all the way through winter without a significant break last fall, but also bike racing began to take it's rightful place in my life, properly balanced with other priorities. The first year was so engrossing that it ruled my thoughts and time. Now it's becoming a more normal part of my life. But what's odd about that realization is that as I think about next year's goals, I discover they are higher. As if I'd had a great season and I was building on my success, and in a way I am. My goals are around track, with some focus on road time trials. I'll race the road races with the 35+ crowd, which may mean I'm pack fodder, but I consider them low priority races anyway. And I'm ampped about next year. But for now, every time I think "Gee, I should really do a training ride," I know I shouldn't. And I don't. I haven't ridden with my heart rate monitor for 2 weeks. It's staying off until Thanksgiving, when the madness starts again. I'll ski more. I'll get my century in this fall. I'll do some Madison training and make my legs and lungs scream for mercy a couple more times this fall.
Junior year was WAY better.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Wicked Fun at the Track
I love chariot races. Way too much fun. A chariot race is a two lap race from a standing start. You drawn numbers to find your starting spot, the lower the number the closer to the center of the track. Sprint rule apply, so if you're in the sprinter's lane, anyone wanting to pass you has to come around the long way. I was probably riding a ridiculously large gear for this race(52x15, or about 93.5 gear inches), but being able to get that thing going from a standing start is one of my strong points.
I won the first heat and Andy Kruse won his heat. In the final, I drew 2 and Andy drew 4, so he was two up track from me. I figured I was going to just jump as hard as I could and hope he'd jump on. Sure enough, I was quickly a couple of bike lengths up on the person who drew 1 and I was in the lane. Halfway through turn one, I hear Andy yell "Wheel!" and I knew he was on. I just buried it from there. Worked like a charm. Coming into turn 3 on the second lap, out popped Andy and powered his way to the finish.
Now, up until this point, I had seriously considered making the 31st my last track day in 2006. I'm starting to get tired of being focused (on everything, food, schedule, recovery) and riding hard. I mean, I LOVE to ride fast, but at some point you start to get a little worn out. But now there's no way I'm going to stop with only 2 weeks of racing left. If I do, I'll regret it all winter. Especially after what happened next.
The last race of the night was a 50 lap scratch race. Some guys don't like scratch races, but I kind of enjoy them. It gives you a chance to try stuff and see what happens without throwing the whole race because you screw up every points sprint. I also like a scratch race because you can hammer down and TT and the field has less incentive to catch you until it's too late.
Andy and I talked before we started. He had won the first and second events of the evening (see above) and only need to keep Chris Smith from winning in order to win the omnium for the night. We figured I could take a flyer with someone and try to lap the field. About 10 laps in, I jumped on Mike Lyner's wheel, and all of a sudden, we were 50 meters out. Then we were 100. Before I knew it, we had half a lap. With some dogged blocking by Andy, we managed to pick up the lap by 27 to go. Now I just had to hang on! This was much easier said than done, as there were a couple of attacks, but I stuck to Chris like glue and held on. With a kilo to go, Skibby was setting the pace in the lane. For some reason I can't fathom, I thought he would pull up with 2 or less to go. Of course, this didn't happen. Mike Lyner is his team mate, and with about 2 to go, Mike came up along side me and I knew I was done. He had me trapped and no way I could get out and around him in time. Oh, well. 2nd place was totally awesome in my 3rd week as a Cat 3. Plus I got $30.00 out of the deal. That covers my last two weeks of racing. Now I have no excuses.
I will say I'm in no big hurry to move up to Cat 2 on the track. I know it's inevitable, as I will be training and riding to win next year, and with a full season of racing, even with 3rd or 4th place omnium finishes, I'll have the points to upgrade. Then I'll be pack fodder. Or I won't. There are so many different types of races that there will be events where I will do alright. Chariots, Handicaps, etc. play to my strong suit. Keirin should be interesting. And I'll have a ton more experience by then. Plus, to paraphrase another 35+ rider, I'll be on the podium if the right people show up.
I won the first heat and Andy Kruse won his heat. In the final, I drew 2 and Andy drew 4, so he was two up track from me. I figured I was going to just jump as hard as I could and hope he'd jump on. Sure enough, I was quickly a couple of bike lengths up on the person who drew 1 and I was in the lane. Halfway through turn one, I hear Andy yell "Wheel!" and I knew he was on. I just buried it from there. Worked like a charm. Coming into turn 3 on the second lap, out popped Andy and powered his way to the finish.
Now, up until this point, I had seriously considered making the 31st my last track day in 2006. I'm starting to get tired of being focused (on everything, food, schedule, recovery) and riding hard. I mean, I LOVE to ride fast, but at some point you start to get a little worn out. But now there's no way I'm going to stop with only 2 weeks of racing left. If I do, I'll regret it all winter. Especially after what happened next.
The last race of the night was a 50 lap scratch race. Some guys don't like scratch races, but I kind of enjoy them. It gives you a chance to try stuff and see what happens without throwing the whole race because you screw up every points sprint. I also like a scratch race because you can hammer down and TT and the field has less incentive to catch you until it's too late.
Andy and I talked before we started. He had won the first and second events of the evening (see above) and only need to keep Chris Smith from winning in order to win the omnium for the night. We figured I could take a flyer with someone and try to lap the field. About 10 laps in, I jumped on Mike Lyner's wheel, and all of a sudden, we were 50 meters out. Then we were 100. Before I knew it, we had half a lap. With some dogged blocking by Andy, we managed to pick up the lap by 27 to go. Now I just had to hang on! This was much easier said than done, as there were a couple of attacks, but I stuck to Chris like glue and held on. With a kilo to go, Skibby was setting the pace in the lane. For some reason I can't fathom, I thought he would pull up with 2 or less to go. Of course, this didn't happen. Mike Lyner is his team mate, and with about 2 to go, Mike came up along side me and I knew I was done. He had me trapped and no way I could get out and around him in time. Oh, well. 2nd place was totally awesome in my 3rd week as a Cat 3. Plus I got $30.00 out of the deal. That covers my last two weeks of racing. Now I have no excuses.
I will say I'm in no big hurry to move up to Cat 2 on the track. I know it's inevitable, as I will be training and riding to win next year, and with a full season of racing, even with 3rd or 4th place omnium finishes, I'll have the points to upgrade. Then I'll be pack fodder. Or I won't. There are so many different types of races that there will be events where I will do alright. Chariots, Handicaps, etc. play to my strong suit. Keirin should be interesting. And I'll have a ton more experience by then. Plus, to paraphrase another 35+ rider, I'll be on the podium if the right people show up.
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