On June 10, 1997 Michael Jordan, suffering from the flu, scored 38 points had seven rebounds, five assists, three steals and one block to win game five against the Utah Jazz in the NBA finals.
It is always a bummer when you get sick, and Julie knows what a baby I am when I am not feeling well. Despite putting in a ton of base mileage and preparation for Saturday’s road race, I woke up the Monday before feeling like I got hit with a MACK truck. Sore throat, fever, and typical stupidness. It was all I could do to weather the week with tons of rest, green tea, and water. Athletes typically bounce back pretty quickly, but a cold is a cold, and it is a challenge to go anaerobic for 2 hours when you are sneezing out green gook.
My preparation for the week leading up to Boulevard included 6 days of rest, 45 minutes of light spinning on a trainer, and regular doses of Nyquil. The course is notoriously difficult even for the Cat4’s with over 4,000 feet of climbing in 42 miles. I pretty much knew how the day would go, but I was hoping that I could rally myself to be a Michael Jordan and overcome the odds.
We left the house at 5AM so Julie would be there in time for the ladies race which went off at 7AM. It was a beautiful day which was a nice change from last year’s 40-degree rainstorm at the same race. I saw the ladies off and headed up to hang out for a little bit and get warmed up for my race at 9:30.
I spent about 25 minutes or so on the trainer and I noticed right away that my body was not responding the way I wanted it to. I could barely get any oxygen, my heart rate was through the roof, and I was hacking up nasty stuff. Determined to beat the odds, I pushed on through.
I got off the trainer, and said a quick prayer for safety and strength before heading to the start line. There were 100 other riders in my race, so getting an OK starting position was important. The start was already pretty full but I managed to squeeze in about 1/3 of the way back and on the right. A few teammates were close by and I chatted it up with a couple of other guys I knew in the group.
The first part of the race was uneventful. A 10 mile decent into the valley full of brake-happy cat 4s got a little sketchy at times, but we all made it to the first turn without incident. We took a hard right-hand turn onto the climbing rollers of La Posta Road where I knew the pack would separate out a little bit.
Sure enough, more and more people fell off the group. I weaved my way around folks to stay on with the lead pack and was right there in the mix. My head was aching, and I vomited a little, but I was there. A small hill that would typically just be a moment in the red, was more like doing a treadmill stress test at max speed for me. My heart rate was up to 196 and I was feeling miserable.
I made the second right and turn onto the four mile climb still in with the lead group. I had slowed down my breathing as much as possible but it didn’t help much. The pack began to pull away. I looked at my computer and I was moving up the 5%-6% grade at 12.5-13MPH which on a good day is super fast. The group must have been redlining at 15-16mph which was just crazy.
I almost just quit after lap one, but looking over my shoulder I saw a small pack of riders approaching. I figured if I could just catch on to them I could try and recover on the decent before doing the climb again. The group passed and I sprinted on to them.
Two of my teammates were in the group so I was happy to have a little relief as far as my legs were concerned. I still took a couple of pulls, but all in all my team mate Brian did the majority of the work. Making the turn onto La Posta once again, I worked in the group until it broke apart and there were only a few of us left. My head felt like I was on a different planet altogether, and I literally pictured spinning on my trainer to make sure I was using full pedal strokes. Gradually I stayed with it, but all my energy started to fade. My legs felt OK, but my body was too fatigued to work anymore. I gave it all I had to muster and sprinted hard for the finish to take 59th. It was the absolute worst performance of my life knowing what I am capable of on a good day, but I was just happy that I somehow found the energy to finish. I was no Michael Jordan.
On February 5th, 2011, Tim Barr, suffering from a head cold, got dropped like a bad habit at the Boulevard Bike Race.
--------------------------------
It is amazing how the human body recovers in adversity. I woke up a little tired on Sunday, but feeling quite a bit better than Saturday. After the hell I felt at Boulevard, I was on the fence about racing Red Trolley, but I figured that I may as well give it a go. The 0.5 mile course with a little kicker hill thrown in can be a beast if you are not feeling strong, but if worse came to worse, I could always just drop out early.
The 45 minute race was set to go at 1:15PM, and I had completed a good 40 minute warm up. The legs felt surprisingly good, it was still just a little congestion I was dealing with, but it was not too bad. I lined up towards the back and on the outside right so I could pass people on the outside.
The pack rolled out, and I was able to move up quickly. Wheels were squirrely everywhere so staying on the outside I was able to pedal smooth and stay in the mix. It was all I could do to stay in the mix. I rode with my teammates as much as I could, but the one time I went to the front to take a pull I realized my body was not quite there. It was OK though. Serious comeback since the previous day at Boulevard.
The Cat 4’s at this race were some of the worst to race with. Serious inconsistencies in speed and never strung out enough to make it safe. I spent as much time staying out of trouble as I spent trying to move up. It was just never smooth. Although I didn’t contribute as much as I would have liked, I did feel good that my legs were back and that I stayed in the mix the entire time. It’s too bad that my head cold hadn’t hit two days earlier than it did! Things may have been different…..
Next up…Imperial Classic…
Monday, February 7, 2011
Monday, December 13, 2010
December in Compton
I forgot how much fun bike racing is. I also forgot how much I hate waking up at 4:30 in the morning. The alarm rang in the silence, and I slowly got out of bed and managed to open my eyes sometime after I had already made it across the room to the bathroom. Fortunately I had thrown all my stuff together the night before, so all I had left to do is get dressed, get some coffee, and drive to meet my carpool.
Exactly one year ago I raced my first official crit. I am amazed at how fast time has gone by. Driving up the 405 to the same course in Compton was déjà vu. The good thing about morning races in Compton is that all the gang members are still sleeping. A bunch of white boys from SD made it in alive.
It had been so long since I had raced that my nerves were really pumping as I warmed up on the trainer. I wanted to race hard for my teammates so they could grab some points, but it had also been a long time since I had ridden in a pack with 100 other guys at 30 MPH. I knew that my confidence was much higher than last year though.
I warmed up for about 20 minutes on the trainer then headed over to the race start to give the porta-jon a little morning present. I’m sure ‘jon’ was stoked with my little gift.
The start was uneventful as always and the pace picked up quickly. Our team of 5 was at the front almost immediately. We all know that while it takes a little more work up there, it is much safer and easier to control the race. We were all pretty well positioned and about 4-5 laps in I felt my back tire go flat.
Crap.
I raised my hand so the field could go around me and just rode carefully behind the pack to the pit hoping some nice guy would have a wheel for me. No luck. My race was over.
Giving up hope, I rolled over to the side of the road and told my story to the spectators there. This guy was like “bummer man. Do you want my wheel?” “Seriously!?” I replied, “Let’s do this!”
I waved the USAC official over and we changed the wheel just as the pack came back around. I got a good push back into the group and laid down the hammer in order to get back up front. The cassette on the new wheel must have been geared differently because I was having a difficult time turning the pedals. Perhaps my legs were just spent trying to hammer back up front.
About one more lap in a huge crash happened right next to me and the rider to my right fell into me. I was able to ride through it though and I just heard carnage behind me as the crash piled up. I kept pushing on.
My legs were spent, but I managed to stay in the mix to the end. Didn’t really get to help out as much as I would have liked just due to circumstance, but my other teammates managed to do alright snagging 6th and 10th.
After the race I found out that the loaner wheel was out of true and rubbing my back break the whole time. No wonder I had a hard time pedaling! My breaks were on!
The crash next to me was the result of someone riding right into my teammate’s front wheel. He stayed upright, but his wheel was toast. The other guy was not as lucky, but the moron should have watched his line.
The second race of the day went a little better, but my starting position boxed me in for a lot of the race. I was never able to get where I needed to be and I don’t have the balls to just start blasting through people yet. My teammates were literally one rider to the left and no one was letting me in to join the train. In the end it was OK as my teammate took 4th and snagged a few more points on the day. No crashes or drama.
The third race was sold out so I was not able to compete. 2 of our riders got out there though and just rode a great race. Matt once again sprinted it out Cavendish style to win the sprint and get his Cat 3 Points!
I am getting excited for next season. My climbing is better than ever, and my bike handling continues to improve. It’s great to get a little December taste of February! Our team is going to do some amazing things out there.
Exactly one year ago I raced my first official crit. I am amazed at how fast time has gone by. Driving up the 405 to the same course in Compton was déjà vu. The good thing about morning races in Compton is that all the gang members are still sleeping. A bunch of white boys from SD made it in alive.
It had been so long since I had raced that my nerves were really pumping as I warmed up on the trainer. I wanted to race hard for my teammates so they could grab some points, but it had also been a long time since I had ridden in a pack with 100 other guys at 30 MPH. I knew that my confidence was much higher than last year though.
I warmed up for about 20 minutes on the trainer then headed over to the race start to give the porta-jon a little morning present. I’m sure ‘jon’ was stoked with my little gift.
The start was uneventful as always and the pace picked up quickly. Our team of 5 was at the front almost immediately. We all know that while it takes a little more work up there, it is much safer and easier to control the race. We were all pretty well positioned and about 4-5 laps in I felt my back tire go flat.
Crap.
I raised my hand so the field could go around me and just rode carefully behind the pack to the pit hoping some nice guy would have a wheel for me. No luck. My race was over.
Giving up hope, I rolled over to the side of the road and told my story to the spectators there. This guy was like “bummer man. Do you want my wheel?” “Seriously!?” I replied, “Let’s do this!”
I waved the USAC official over and we changed the wheel just as the pack came back around. I got a good push back into the group and laid down the hammer in order to get back up front. The cassette on the new wheel must have been geared differently because I was having a difficult time turning the pedals. Perhaps my legs were just spent trying to hammer back up front.
About one more lap in a huge crash happened right next to me and the rider to my right fell into me. I was able to ride through it though and I just heard carnage behind me as the crash piled up. I kept pushing on.
My legs were spent, but I managed to stay in the mix to the end. Didn’t really get to help out as much as I would have liked just due to circumstance, but my other teammates managed to do alright snagging 6th and 10th.
After the race I found out that the loaner wheel was out of true and rubbing my back break the whole time. No wonder I had a hard time pedaling! My breaks were on!
The crash next to me was the result of someone riding right into my teammate’s front wheel. He stayed upright, but his wheel was toast. The other guy was not as lucky, but the moron should have watched his line.
The second race of the day went a little better, but my starting position boxed me in for a lot of the race. I was never able to get where I needed to be and I don’t have the balls to just start blasting through people yet. My teammates were literally one rider to the left and no one was letting me in to join the train. In the end it was OK as my teammate took 4th and snagged a few more points on the day. No crashes or drama.
The third race was sold out so I was not able to compete. 2 of our riders got out there though and just rode a great race. Matt once again sprinted it out Cavendish style to win the sprint and get his Cat 3 Points!
I am getting excited for next season. My climbing is better than ever, and my bike handling continues to improve. It’s great to get a little December taste of February! Our team is going to do some amazing things out there.
Monday, August 30, 2010
The cold water, dog attacks, and hilly runs of Santa Barbara
The chaos of what has been my 2010 triathlon season finally drew to a close this past Saturday up in Santa Barbara. It is exactly one year ago that I finished Ironman Canada, and I still can’t believe that I ever competed at that distance. This year has been a year marked with chaos, injury, inconsistent training, and an overloaded work schedule. I guess that’s life sometimes.
Santa Barbara is a special place for me. It is the home of college spring break vacations and one of the first places I ever visited in California. I proposed to my wife there on a starry night in 1999 overlooking the city from the pier. The beauty in the city is unmatched as the mountains nestle up to the ocean in a postcard panoramic shot. I love it there.
This is the second time I have raced the Santa Barbara Long Course Tri. The 1 mile swim, 34 mile bike, 10 mile run course tests your top end limits through numerous hills, sweeping bends and coastal bliss. I didn’t really have major expectations of performance, but for the first time this year, I actually felt prepared to race.
Standing at the start line, I felt my heart pound as I counted down the seconds. The ocean temperature was unseasonably cold at 58 degrees, and the ocean was a bit choppy and blown out. Not ideal for swimming, but it was what it was. The horn sounded and I ran towards the water with 150 other athletes to take the plunge. I knew the water would be cold, but this was a shock to the body that I was not prepared for. I instantly froze up and started hyperventilating. I started to swing my arms forward in an attempt to swim, but it was so cold I actually got scared for a second that I would not be able to make it.
Hitting the first buoy, I got up the nerve to put my face in the water and start slowing my breath down. Everything had gone numb and my swim started to come into form. I started to feel pretty good, and was in a great rhythm and still with the main pack. I was feeling great until we hit the turn around and started to head back directly into the choppy current. I still maintained my rhythm, but sighting was a chore, and it seemed that the finish banner never got any closer. Regardless, I still felt great and I never let up. Exiting the water and hitting the timing mat I was shocked that the swim had taken me almost 39 minutes. It felt like I had swam much better than that. [Looking at the pro finish times this weekend, I am pretty sure the swim was long. Top pros were doing it in 25 minutes where typical swim times for the pros should have been 18-20.]
My transition went well, and I was happy to be on my bike. My legs felt pretty good, and I was off in a great rhythm powering down the first straight. The bike course is a hilly 34 miles with some good climbs and technical descents. You are never bored, and you always have to be on your game. There was a lot of bike traffic to weave through at the start of my ride which slowed me down quite a bit. I summited the first big climb and was descending at 35 mph when a rider about 400 feet in front of me lost it on a turn and crashed face first into the pavement. He slid into a dirt embankment totally limp and came to a rest face down in the sand with blood everywhere. Several of us slowed and yelled at the medics that were at the top of the hill to assist. One rider turned around and told us to keep going as he would get help. Seeing stuff like this always makes you realize how important it is to maintain focus and control. I said a prayer for the guy and kept riding.
Not more than 5 minutes after seeing the accident, I felt my back tire start to bounce around. Flat. Dang. It was my first ever flat in a race, but I was thankful I had packed my stuff to change it. My fingers were still practically frozen from the swim, and I had a hard time getting the tire levers into the tire to remove the tube. Finally about 6 minutes later I was back on the road. The change should have taken me less than two minutes, but sometimes that is how it goes.
On the ride back to the finish line, just when I thought the ride couldn’t get any more dramatic, I passed a house that was opening up their private driveway and a large brown dog came charging out at me ready to tear me off my bike. I sprinted as hard as I could as this dog viciously growled and bit at my shoes. I was screaming as loud as I could and sprinting my ass off to get away---up hill. It totally took everything out of me before the toughest climb of the ride. I was really lucky I didn’t actually get mauled, but I was totally spent.
Getting back to transition, I had given up on my goal of 3:30:00 due to the long swim and bizarre bike issues.
I was ready to run. My transition was crazy quick and I felt really good on the first mile or so of the run. I decided not to wear a heart rate monitor and just go on feel. The gamble worked, and I did the hilly run in record time. The training the past couple of weeks really helped me push it at this race. My average mile pace for the 10 miles was 7:39 which was really good for me. I met a few new friends along the route, and was so stoked the run went great. It felt good to finish on a high note.
When I add up my tri season if I take legs from each race, it would add up to one good tri! SD International: great swim, Boulder 70.3: decent bike, Santa Barbara: great run. I guess that I’ll take all of the experiences of 2010, and put them together. That’s the beauty of racing.
Until next time….
Santa Barbara is a special place for me. It is the home of college spring break vacations and one of the first places I ever visited in California. I proposed to my wife there on a starry night in 1999 overlooking the city from the pier. The beauty in the city is unmatched as the mountains nestle up to the ocean in a postcard panoramic shot. I love it there.
This is the second time I have raced the Santa Barbara Long Course Tri. The 1 mile swim, 34 mile bike, 10 mile run course tests your top end limits through numerous hills, sweeping bends and coastal bliss. I didn’t really have major expectations of performance, but for the first time this year, I actually felt prepared to race.
Standing at the start line, I felt my heart pound as I counted down the seconds. The ocean temperature was unseasonably cold at 58 degrees, and the ocean was a bit choppy and blown out. Not ideal for swimming, but it was what it was. The horn sounded and I ran towards the water with 150 other athletes to take the plunge. I knew the water would be cold, but this was a shock to the body that I was not prepared for. I instantly froze up and started hyperventilating. I started to swing my arms forward in an attempt to swim, but it was so cold I actually got scared for a second that I would not be able to make it.
Hitting the first buoy, I got up the nerve to put my face in the water and start slowing my breath down. Everything had gone numb and my swim started to come into form. I started to feel pretty good, and was in a great rhythm and still with the main pack. I was feeling great until we hit the turn around and started to head back directly into the choppy current. I still maintained my rhythm, but sighting was a chore, and it seemed that the finish banner never got any closer. Regardless, I still felt great and I never let up. Exiting the water and hitting the timing mat I was shocked that the swim had taken me almost 39 minutes. It felt like I had swam much better than that. [Looking at the pro finish times this weekend, I am pretty sure the swim was long. Top pros were doing it in 25 minutes where typical swim times for the pros should have been 18-20.]
My transition went well, and I was happy to be on my bike. My legs felt pretty good, and I was off in a great rhythm powering down the first straight. The bike course is a hilly 34 miles with some good climbs and technical descents. You are never bored, and you always have to be on your game. There was a lot of bike traffic to weave through at the start of my ride which slowed me down quite a bit. I summited the first big climb and was descending at 35 mph when a rider about 400 feet in front of me lost it on a turn and crashed face first into the pavement. He slid into a dirt embankment totally limp and came to a rest face down in the sand with blood everywhere. Several of us slowed and yelled at the medics that were at the top of the hill to assist. One rider turned around and told us to keep going as he would get help. Seeing stuff like this always makes you realize how important it is to maintain focus and control. I said a prayer for the guy and kept riding.
Not more than 5 minutes after seeing the accident, I felt my back tire start to bounce around. Flat. Dang. It was my first ever flat in a race, but I was thankful I had packed my stuff to change it. My fingers were still practically frozen from the swim, and I had a hard time getting the tire levers into the tire to remove the tube. Finally about 6 minutes later I was back on the road. The change should have taken me less than two minutes, but sometimes that is how it goes.
On the ride back to the finish line, just when I thought the ride couldn’t get any more dramatic, I passed a house that was opening up their private driveway and a large brown dog came charging out at me ready to tear me off my bike. I sprinted as hard as I could as this dog viciously growled and bit at my shoes. I was screaming as loud as I could and sprinting my ass off to get away---up hill. It totally took everything out of me before the toughest climb of the ride. I was really lucky I didn’t actually get mauled, but I was totally spent.
Getting back to transition, I had given up on my goal of 3:30:00 due to the long swim and bizarre bike issues.
I was ready to run. My transition was crazy quick and I felt really good on the first mile or so of the run. I decided not to wear a heart rate monitor and just go on feel. The gamble worked, and I did the hilly run in record time. The training the past couple of weeks really helped me push it at this race. My average mile pace for the 10 miles was 7:39 which was really good for me. I met a few new friends along the route, and was so stoked the run went great. It felt good to finish on a high note.
When I add up my tri season if I take legs from each race, it would add up to one good tri! SD International: great swim, Boulder 70.3: decent bike, Santa Barbara: great run. I guess that I’ll take all of the experiences of 2010, and put them together. That’s the beauty of racing.
Until next time….
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Ahhhh Boulder......
Not that injuries and sickness should be used as an excuse for mediocre race performance, but in this case, it is exactly what prepped me for a mediocre race in Boulder. Missing almost three weeks of key workouts and run volume set me up for a subpar ½ marathon.
The swim started off OK. I was able to find a little room and get into a rhythm that made it OK. The refreshing Colorado reservoir water was a nice 71 degrees. About 200 yards into the swim, my body started to realize that there was a lack of oxygen going in due to the altitude. My every-third-stoke breath turned into an every-stroke routine and killed my momentum despite my best efforts. I started to sight each buoy and just break the swim into smaller sections. If I can just make it to the next buoy…. A painful and tiring 45 minutes later I exited the water. I had expected a 35-40 minute swim, but I was just happy to get out of the water.
The first transition went smooth, and I was out on the bike. I followed my coach’s advice and really dialed back the first ½ of the course. The altitude alone made it hard to generate the watts that I was used to, but the thin air made up for it in terms of speed. The course was really fast with just a few gradual climbs and rollers. I actually took it somewhat easy during the ride and looked around quite a bit at the amazing scenery. Having moved to San Diego from Boulder 10 years ago, I am still amazed at the beauty in Colorado. The scenery made the miles tick on by. I know I had quite a bit more in me when I finished the ride, but I was anticipating the difficult run ahead, and my lack of run base made me hold back (sorry coach). My average speed for the bike leg was 22.6MPH for a time of 2:28 and power output of 200W.
The second transition was a bit slower as I sprayed on some sunscreen and took in some water. Heading out on the unshaded dirt run course, I knew this would make or break the race.
I started out in a decent rhythm, running around an 8:20 pace. It actually felt easy at the time. I held this pace for a couple of miles before having to slow down a little for a big hill and refuel at the aid stations. This is where the routine began. Run 9:15 pace to the next station, walk the station, repeat. About mile 5, I began to get a cramp in my abdominals that would only go away if I walked for a second. I still don’t know if it was a nutrition problem or a pulled muscle, but either way it hurt. My pace between aid stations slowed to a 9:45 pace.
The second loop of the run, I was able to run a few miles with a guy from Colorado Springs that was helping me keep a decent pace. It was nice to pass the time as the temperature soared into the 90’s. The altitude made it really difficult to run as well, but I kept on pushing through to finish my ½ marathon in 2:13. Not at all stoked with the time, but looking back on my training, my run base was not where it needed to be due to my injury a month ago. I was fortunate to be able to run at all!
My total finish time was 5:32:48. Not a PR, but close to what I thought I’d get going in. I expect a lot from myself, but those expectations need to be grounded in training! I have no doubts that if I would not have crashed out of the International, my finish time would have been in the low 5 hour range.
The silver lining in all of this is the $5,000 I raised through this event for my mother’s battle with cancer. I gave her my medal at the finish line and we both wept in joy. It was pretty cool. In the end, it is all about the ability to live out life to the fullest. The clock does not matter.
Next up: Santa Barbara
Monday, June 28, 2010
Kissing Asphalt
It has been 10 months and three days since my last triathlon. You would think that I would have been prepared well in advance of the San Diego International Triathlon this year considering all of the time I had to train. Life seems to have a way of sneaking up on you sometimes, and about two weeks ago I realized that I needed to start swimming again if I expected to survive 1000 meters in San Diego Bay.
14 days, and 5 swim practices. Not really the sort of preparation that it takes to win races, but it would have to do. This race was really just an opportunity to determine where I was at fitness wise anyway. It helps to go in with low expectations to avoid disappointment.
I figured I would be OK on the run, as I have been running somewhat consistently over the past month or so. My pace has been around a 6:15/mile for shorter efforts so I estimated that I could push out 6:45’s for the race if I felt good. Obviously the bike would not be an issue after all the cycling I have been doing in the off-season.
So there I was, treading water at 6:45 am waiting for the gun to go off. I was anxious to get going as the water was a bit chilly. “3-2-1-GO!” and the horn went off. I immediately got into a good rhythm. Not too fast, not too slow, but a pace I felt like I could manage for a while. I actually felt pretty good after the first 100 meters or so. I hit the gas on the turn, and kept it steady to the swim exit. 18:00. Better than I had expected!
I had a decent transition, although it was not my fastest. I didn’t really care too much though. I was not looking to break any records. The bike was my strength, and there would be plenty of time to go hard.
I hit the gas. I hit Canon street hill and held 18MPH for the climb. The fastest ascent of the hill I think I have ever held. I felt good though, and I was passing people like they were going backwards. I kept the throttle down and eventually hit the rollers on Cabrillo where my computer showed an average of 23 MPH before I even got to the lighthouse. That means I had to be pushing around 30 for the rollers. Crazy.
I sprinted up the hill at the light house and then feathered my brakes for the sharp 180 degree turn at the bottom of the hill. That’s where disaster struck.
The back wheel of my TT bike just slid out from under me coming out of the turn and I instantly knew that I was in trouble. Skipping once or twice on the asphalt, I eventually slid along the ground for 10-15 feet before coming to a stop. I could feel the asphalt scraping each layer of skin off my body like it was happening in slow motion.
Shit.
A volunteer ran over to me. “Is my bike OK?” is the first thing I said. I guess my priorities are a little out of whack.
Slowly picking my bloody self up, I didn’t think anything was broken except my ego. My rear derailleur was stuck in one gear, and I slowly rode myself off the course and back to transition.
My race was over. DNF.
Sometimes things don’t work out the way we plan. I guess I didn’t really have a plan for this race, but I can tell you that if I did, it didn’t involve crashing. Live and learn.
I fixed the bike yesterday while chasing pain killers down with mimosas. Hoping I can pick the training back up this week.
As for the San Diego International, I’ll see you next year.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Cruise
Triathlon is now getting in the way of my bike training. Yes I know I did a freakin' Ironman last year, but for some reason this year, swimming and running seem like painful disciplines I can live without. What has happened?
Perhaps life is just getting in the way. Scheduled training session--sinus infection. Scheduled century ride--phone call from a friend "Hey Tim, I've got a free ticket to a 3-day cruise this weekend! You want to roll?"
Dang it. Who can turn down a free cruise?
Well, perhaps next year will be more consistent. For now I guess I will board the cruise ship bound for Mexico.
Perhaps life is just getting in the way. Scheduled training session--sinus infection. Scheduled century ride--phone call from a friend "Hey Tim, I've got a free ticket to a 3-day cruise this weekend! You want to roll?"
Dang it. Who can turn down a free cruise?
Well, perhaps next year will be more consistent. For now I guess I will board the cruise ship bound for Mexico.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Hard Knocks
Sometimes bike racing is the most demoralizing sport there is. Just about the time you start feeling confident and good about yourself, the pack pulls away and drops you on the climb. You consistently place in the top ten as a Cat 5, and suddenly you find yourself in the bottom tear of the Cat 4s. I’ve been racing TT’s now for over 5 years, and I am pretty fast when it comes to smoking the other tri geeks. Today I learned that this speed was all an illusion as I put up my personal best lap times at Fiesta Island to take a sad 18th out of 24 people. I got beat by people that had never ridden a TT bike until today. It’s a bittersweet sport, but at least I know what times I need to post the next time around to build my ego to a respectable level.
It’s a school of hard knocks, but for some reason I keep suiting up and getting out there. Just about the time I do well enough in the Cat 4s, I will be set to upgrade and get slapped around a bit in the 3s. I doubt it will ever end. Now on to tomorrow’s road race.
It’s a school of hard knocks, but for some reason I keep suiting up and getting out there. Just about the time I do well enough in the Cat 4s, I will be set to upgrade and get slapped around a bit in the 3s. I doubt it will ever end. Now on to tomorrow’s road race.
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