Another in-your-face, season-ending race result (!!)

OK, I realize that a DNS isn’t a very hard-hitting result for the last effort of 2012 (and for the record, I did actually “start,” twice).  It was literally quite soft-hitting.  I pulled a typical Wander at Ernie Simpson Time Trial, but I still managed to wake up the next morning like, “Booyah, I showed up to my last race of 2012!  In your face, losers!”  Here’s how this gloriously soft-hitting season-ender happened:

 

While warming up I broke a cleat and couldn't clip in.  I continued to warm up barefoot while a friend jury-rigged it, cautioning that I could only clip in one time before it would fail again.  Uh oh, I don't know how to unclip with the other foot, so this resulted in a low-speed crash at the starting line, right in front of some of the same officials who have seen such awesome performances as Parkesburg.  Whatever, the soft landing didn't hurt, and I lost my sensitivity to embarrassment at some point last year.  So I took off, and my perfectly executed rest week definitely helped my leg flail extra violently when it came unclipped from the broken cleat.  I didn't crash this time, but tried once more before calling it on Racing Season 2012.  Ho hum.  I went back to the car and ceremonially absconded another toy unicorn in the possession of a new owner, while she was busy winning.  Closure on 2012?  You betcha.  Time to recover and get ready for off-season training.

 

Ok I think I’m ready.

 

2012 Racing facts and outrageous claims:

Stupid Mishaps: 7

Concussions: 0

Money spent on fancy cycling goods and services: Less than last year.

Mental blowouts: Greater than 0 but fewer than last year.

Good individual results: A few.

Good team results: Many.

Did bike racing save the world this year? Again, nope.

Did training help to manage my insulin this year? Probably.

 

Despite the mishap, the beautiful course was worth the trip

 

Regulating in Millersburg

So my most recent mental training objective has been "emotional regulation."  I'm supposed to leave my fears aside and just race with my legs and brain.  This is hard when you have the emotional capacity of a 2-year-old, but I came to Tour de Millersburg feeling thinking that I was pretty well regulated.  The problem turned out to be that my sprint could use a little less Gramm-Leach-Bliley and a little more Warren G.

The time trial was a 10-mile flat course.  I passed 5 people and took 2nd place, with teammate Jenny taking 5th.  Although the GC was based on points rather than time, the leader's 34-second cushion suggested that it would take some serious teamwork to race with the strong riders of ABRT.  The team rolled back to the hotel to discuss the plan.

With our GC standings to protect, Kace Dogg and Jenny I. had to regulate on the technical crit course.  Jenny attacked with me on her wheel, while Jenn and Emily worked to control the pace in the pack.  We got away with two other riders, including the GC leader.  The leader attacked on the final lap, taking the win, and Jenny and I took 2nd and 3rd. 

The 54-mile road race was mostly flat with a few tight corners.  The slow first lap kept the pack messy, and I was on a mission trying to find Ms. Jenny I.  I fought my way to her wheel just in time for us to get away in a break of 6.  As we rolled into town for the last time, the GC leader attacked, with 2 of us along with her.  After the finish I was relegated to 2nd place for irregular sprinting.  Luckily, our team has some talented riders to help me work on this, including Emily, who arrived with the main field and took the sprint!

In spite of my screw-up, the race was great for the team.  I was 2nd in the GC and Jenny 4th, and the team taught me a lot about working together and racing aggressively.

Catskills: Satisfying, Embarrassing, Wet

Satisfying:
Tour of the Catskills was the best racing experience I've ever had, and it's not like I exactly won or anything.  I did, however, help with some successful teamwork and learn a lot.  The first stage was my kind of course: a 12-mile time trial that was mostly flat with a little kicker hill at the end.  Kristen had the best result for the team, taking 3rd, with me coming in 2 seconds behind in 4th.  I was pleased with our team's standing, and Kristen and I went into stage 2 being protected by our teammes.

Embarrassing:
Stage 2 was a 65-mile road race with the famous "devil's kitchen" climb.  I had heard stories about this climb making Appalachian Gap look like a cakewalk by comparison.  We pre-drove it the night before, and I thought if my car could make it up the mountain, I certainly could on a bike (anyone who has seen my car knows this is a reasonable statement).  I spent the majority of the stage at the back, while Kerrin and Kate brought back attacks at the front.  It was cool to have that kind of support, so I hoped to do well on the climb and uphold my part of the deal.  I started up the climb at the front, until I heard that familiar heavy-breathing-zombie-chase noise when the pack creeps up on you in slow motion.  It was so steep that my front wheel kept coming up off the ground.  Every man woman and child on that mountain was suffering.  And for the record, I know that there are plenty of people in the world who encounter gut-wrenching suffering without traveling to a resort town to suffer in a semi-controlled context while being followed by support vehicles.  That makes me feel both privileged and embarrassed.  Additionally embarrassing was the realization that I was getting dropped.  If I had known this would happen, I would have worked to protect my teammates instead of vice-versa.  Kristen took an awesome second place, moving up to second in the GC, and I...um...completed the stage without dying. 

Wet:
Stage 3 was a 60-mile race with 2 major climbs.  After blowing my load on Devil's Kitchen the day before, I was now working for the team at the front.  That's a scary place for me, and it was good to force myself to be there.  I brought back attacks and learned a lot.  When the first QOM was close, Kate went off the front alone.  It was now our job to keep the pack as slow as possible and not catch Kate. She got the first QOM, and as long as she was out of sight, the team kept things slow.  It started to pour while we slowly climbed Airport Road.  Several miles of descending followed, and there was a crash in the slippery conditions.  Luckily everyone was ok, and we rolled in to find out that Kate had won the stage, snagging the polka dot jersey along the way.  When I asked her what was going through her head for the 40 solo miles, she said that she was confident knowing that she had teammates in the pack who were controlling the pace.  Wow.  That may have been my greatest contribution of the race, but I don't know if I really did that much.  Final GC: Kristen 3, Kate 5, Kerrin 8, Me 9. 


Kristen at the stage 2 podium

This win brought to you by Vaseline and denial

There's a fine line between satisfaction and complacency, optimism and denial, and when you're dealing with an ongoing deficiency of -reasons to be pissed off- you might not be able to distinguish one from the other. Case in point: I "won" the Nockamixon women’s 1/2 time trial. A more critical person might point out that there were only 3 people in my category, and that I was only the second fastest woman of the day, but at least the following goals were accomplished:

1. Beat my previous time

2. Practice TTing for upcoming stage races, and identify areas in need of work

3. Swim in Lake Nockamixon without getting caught by a park ranger

I pretty much smoked that list, beating the previous attempt on this course by 42 seconds.  It was great practice, and I now have plenty of things to work on, such as remembering to turn around at the cone instead of spacing out until the race marshals yell at me, and preemptively shoving an entire tube of Vaseline up my nose for the inevitable nosebleed when I get down in the aerobars (luckily no photos of this were taken).  So I’m in denial looking on the bright side and calling the day a success.  Now to do some left turn repeats for the next out-and-back time trial.

It turns out that skinsuits make very fast swimsuits

This podium brought to you by self-talk and my 28-cog

We recently established that I might be in need of a mental intervention, whether it be positive thinking techniques or just getting really pissed off.  And although many friends have generously stepped up to the plate and offered to fight me, I still arrived at Lost River Classic feeling frustratingly happy.

The big descent was wet and sketchy, so the group took it carefully.  It seemed dangerous and/or unethical to attack there, so I waited til we got to the bottom and took off on the flat with 4 women in tow.  The pace on the next climb was painful, and I told myself I would get dropped from the break.  Oh wait Wander, Murray said you can't think that way anymore.   I shifted into my 28 and thought about how much I love climbing. 

On the last lap, the moto told us we had 2 minutes on the field, but this seemingly great news put an end to our breakaway's camaraderie.  Responding to a minute-long attack reminded me of how scared I am of anaerobic intervals.  Stop it Wander.  I thought about a recent workout and tried to recall how it felt: Morning coffee. Ipod. The top of "Mount" Presidential coming into view (yes I do intervals on that little jawn).  Having attained enlightenment with about 1k to go, it then just came down to my legs.  Ainhoa destroyed the final kicker hill, winning by at least a bike length.  I've got a lot more work to do on the mental stuff (not to mention those anaerobic intervals), but second place and the first podium of the year is a step in the right direction.  Now if you'll excuse me I have to go light some scented candles and meditate...

Iron Hill: The Race of Truth

Most people describe time trialing as the "race of truth," since it's just you vs. the clock.  But this year it hasn't really come down to me vs. any clocks, but rather me vs. dropped chains, me vs. dislocated ribs, and after Parkesburg's lap counter blooper, apparently me vs. regularly descending integers. 

There were no excuses at Iron Hill.  The team had great race support, I didn't make any "stupid mistakes," and yet somehow everything I managed to do was stupid.  I got scared before the race even started; every time we'd move closer to the starting line I'd give up a wheel or two in fear of crashing at the whopping um...3 miles an hour we were doing.  Jenny kept her cool at the front.

A crash at the beginning scared me and I thought about quitting.  Apparently even the people involved were less scared, since they all got back in on the free lap.  I slowly slipped to the back (even though that's not necessarily safer) and hoped to compensate for it later.  This is a technique that used to work for me, but when it was time to move up I just yelled at the rider in front of me to hold her line (she was not actually in the way at all, but when you're that scared, everyone seems to be in the way), then threw up in my mouth and sat up.  Jenny sprinted for an awesome 11th place, and I yo-yoed at the back for 26th. 

Obviously training can improve some physiological issues, but the mental ones might be tricky.  I've been given instructions for meditation and self-talk.  A less conventional suggestion came from my friend Rick, who suggested I'm just not angry enough this year.  He used to yell "Hey Wander, unicorns aren't real," at the start of races, just to piss me off.  I usually did well.  Just to cover all bases, I'll take both approaches here: let the meditation begin, and BTW, if anyone would like to stage a fight in the parking lot before a race, I'm in.

Chesco Road Race

Yeah, OK this didn't go as planned...

This 4th of July we saluted the land of the free at the PA state road race.  The new course had a little climb coming into the finish but wasn't as selective as the old one.  I still managed to burn all my matches though...

Here's where match number 1 went: I attacked on one of the little kicker hills, got a small gap, and another rider caught on.  It looked promising, and we were about to bolt up another hill when I pulled a typical Wander and dropped my chain.  This is what happens when you try to do your own mechanical work, but hey, this is Amurica, and we're self-sufficient!  Speaking of self-sufficiency, a very eager moto driver came to help and kept getting in the way.  So I'm over here screaming at duder to let me fix it, and meanwhile he's trying to give me a push before I'm even on the bike.  I flailed around like an octopus while the pack slowly disappeared.  I thanked him for his very thorough servicing, then had to seriously put the hurt on to catch the group.  Goodbye match number 2. 

I caught on and recovered before we rolled into the feed zone at the start of the last lap.  Even though the race was short (the women's 123 seems to get shorter every year), it was hot.  Utterly terrified of feed zones, I slowed down to almost a stop and daintily took the bottle from soigneur Colby.  Unfortunately the deciding attack was made in the feed zone.  It was painful to catch the front group.  Match number 3. 

Four strong riders got a gap on the climb into the finish, and I rolled over the line like a slug, taking 5th place.  Not exactly mission accomplished, but hey, I did well, and all this bike racing is definitely helping me win the War on Insulin. 

Parkesburg Crit: Free Ponies to a Good Home

A quick preride got me very excited about the course's climbing.  After yesterday's frustrating race, I was ready to put the hurt on myself and/or other people, whichever came first.  The hurt came on quickly, as Team Pure Energy attacked from the gun.  The pace started to slow on the second lap so I attacked on the climb to keep the hurt coming.  This seemed like a great plan until Pure Energy's next rider attacked right when I was recovering.  Oh.  We never caught her, and we settled in to battle it out for second.  I felt good after recovering for a few laps.  Then with one to go, I did that thing that everyone does once: I thought it was the last lap and I had won the field sprint. Some riders came by a few seconds later, and I chuckled at how hard they were going on their recovery lap.  I rolled triumphantly all the way around the course before realizing I had screwed up.  Oh.  

So here's the thing: I'm really pissed at myself.  The kind of pissed that might be justifiable for mistakes that really matter, like health safety and welfare stuff.  And here I am pissed over a bike race.  There are people who don't have bikes to race, let alone cars to get to the race.  I fumed about it all the way home in my fancy car (fancy as in, it exists) and then threw all my ponies in the trash.  I will probably take them out in the morning when I realize there are people who don't have ponies to throw in the trash, but they're spending the night there dammit!  Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go pout like a big baby.

In related news, if anyone knows of a good home for a whole lot of toy equines including but not limited to ponies, horses, and unicorns, please contact me ASAP. 

Dear Bicycle,

It’s been 21 days, 14 hours, and 17 minutes since I Lorena Bobbitted your top tube on a pothole.  Our time apart has been painful, and I hope you'll forgive me for riding another bike at Philly.  Believe me when I say I didn’t enjoy it; I was so torn up I could barely finish.  The other bike is actually in pieces over the whole thing, so I assure you it’s just you and me now.  Although the past few weeks have been a blur of painkillers, passing out on the couch, and smashing you like Pete Townshend wailing on yet another expendable Gibson, I promise that my wild days are over.  I’m so glad to have you back.

Let’s start over. 

The Green Weenie's top tube looks even better than before!  Thank you Aaron Ritz for saving this relationship...

TD Bank Liberty Classic 2012

The TT-turned-road bike in action.  Thanks Chat

Thursday, crashed.

Precious ride and shitty phone smashed.
Brand new bike too steep to allow.
Sheena is a road bike now.

Ibuprofen today.
How much does this TT rig weigh?
Flimsy bottle lost its grip but nother rider shared a sip.
Farm Team rules.

Sent from my brand new, super fancy smart phone which I got while Breakaway Bikes was doing the fastest and most amazing job ever turning my TT ride into a road bike.  Speaking of smart phones, this video was taken from Mama Wander's fancy device.

Our top finisher Kate Lysakowski in the front group

Rubbing (scabby) elbows with world champ Giorgia Bronzini at the press conference

Grand Prix Cycliste de Gatineau

photos from Ottawa Sun

After Saturday's time trial and a rest day of carb consumption in Ottawa's Little Italy district, we lined up for Monday's 83-mile/13-lap road race.  With the finish being just under 3:30, women's racing is definitely getting faster.  But it's also getting suspiciously cutesy.  Don't be fooled by all the adorable gear though; these riders will rip your legs off. 

Team Specialized-Lululemon set a comfortable pace, which allowed the group to stay really tight.  My teammates Suzie and Laura were moving around the pack like ninjas, but I was terrified as usual.  Sometimes when I get really scared, I try to think about something else, so my mind started to wander: 

When did everyone get these cute sportswear sponsors, and does it make me a lesser athlete if my post-race lounge pants aren't as adorable and butt-flattering as theirs?  (OK, there are more significant factors making me a lesser athlete, but at that point I was terrified and couldn't focus.)  Is the smiling cartoon kitten on that lady's kit supposed to fool me into thinking she won't crush me in a sprint?

The pack was super tight on the flat sections

So there I was getting all distracted, when team director Chris screamed at me to take a bottle.  Oh.  I was running out of drinks but hoping to finish the race without braving the feed zone again.  Suddenly I was freezing cold, even though it was like a zillion degrees Celsius.  Bizarre.  Then my leg locked up all weird for a second.  It went away and I caught back on.  This kept happening and I kept ignoring it til the last lap on a technical descent.  Scared of being paralyzed on a screaming downhill, I let the pack go.  Damn.  I rolled in 3 minutes after Ina Teutenberg's awesome sprint win, bagging 64th place and a bottle of water from Chris.  I chugged it and felt fine again.  Damn.

Lessons Learned:
1. Don't get distracted by Team Precious Moments-Bubble Yum's matching carbon fiber hair scrunchies.  Focus on yourself and how you're feeling.
2. The feed zone may be scary, but the things that happen when you skip it could be even scarier.
3. I do not like poutine.  But I gave it a fair try.  Or two.  Or five.
4. Even though I was scared out of my gourd, racing with world-class athletes was a really cool experience.
5. If anyone would like to ditch the whole cutesy thing and start Team Carhartt-Slim Jim, I'd be your biggest fan.

Team PK Express-Biemme at the pre-race presentation

Grand Prix Cycliste de Gatineau, Chrono-Gatineau

I missed the group photos while Stefan and Pierre were jimmying the keys out of my car...oops

I don't know what any of that means, but who cares, everything sounds fancy when it's in French.  For example, "vingt-six."  My time trial result may not have been the fastest, but it definitely sounds fancy that way.  So for the 11.4-mile  wait no, 18.4 kilometer (metric is fancier) time trial, we went off in one-minute intervals.  ONE-MINUTE INTERVALS!  I've been in events with 30-second intervals, and I accidentally sent off riders in 10-second intervals at an event once (this is why I should never be a race official), but one-minute intervals is legit, and it's also way harder to pass the rider ahead of you.  But I did.  Because I'm fancy.  Oh and BTW, I scraped a shoe for the first time while overcooking a corner.  Cause I'm a badass and/or a bad cornerer.

Hello road, don't let my shoe hit you in the asphalt...

Further contributing to today's fanciness was the amazing race support.  P-K Express team director Chris got my TT bike all blinged out while I was getting ready.  Then during the race, he followed me in the team car (which is really just his own van, but whatver)!  Friggin fancy.  And I can't think of a more motivating reason to haul ass than being followed by an unmarked white van.  I later got to ride in said van and watch my teammate Suzie crush the hills. 

Anyway, I plan to spend tomorrow's rest day celebrating my birthday with some snails and poutine.  But right now it's time to hit the piscine with some teammates.

Full ITT results here.

Tour of the Dragons 2012

While Battenkill was all about learning new racing vocabulary, Tour of the Dragons was more of a visual experience:

consenting adults I suppose...

1. The Rainbow Coalition

We experimented with how many riders we could fit into a small Vermont motel room.  Representing 3 teams, 3 cities, and 4 religions (and yes, uncomfortable religious discussions were had) we spent most of our recovery time giggling,  tire- and cassette-changing, and trying to combine the acts of napping and eating.  All this experimental-polychromatic-kumbaya was dropped when we were racing though, and we focused on our own team pursuits.

2. The Pink Train Pink Nightmare!
Stage 1/Time Trial: Having finally gotten a bike tune-up and a new chain, I had no excuses but to do my best, landing 9th place.  Our teammate Beth laid down an incredible 28:52, beating last year’s winning time and taking 2nd place.

Stage 2/Crit: I spent the first half of the crit scared out of my gourd and cowering at the back.  Finally something clicked for me, and I moved up to join the "Pink Train" as we were deemed by the announcer.  We worked hard at the front, and Jenny took 3rd in the sprint finish, securing the second Farm Team podium of the weekend. 

Stage 3/Road Race: The first climb split the group up, and the yellow jersey soloed away.  4 QOM climbs later, we settled in for the sprint that would decide second and third place.  I moved to the front to help our GC rider, but my nerves got the best of me and I was squished to the back.  The rest of the Pink Train was unaffected by such squishing, and Beth secured 3rd place in the road race, and 3rd in the final GC. 

Weekend Metrics:

Miles: 94

Feet climbed: 4500
Farm Team podium appearances (Beth and Jenny): 4

Number of times I was mistaken for a junior and told my gearing was illegal: 1

Number of times Ky was fed ice cream by a stranger: 1

Servings of ice cream I fed myself: 7

My own GC place: No idea

Number of times I thought about quitting racing: 0

"Battenkizzle" and other spring classics terminology

Me, Audrey, Beth, and Kate after the race

The women's pro/1/2 race at Tour of the Battenkill was all about new vocabulary.  "Breakaway," and "attrition" are terms that, for better or for worse, don't always come into play in women's races.  "Dirt" is also rare for us roadies, so rare in fact that I started counting down the days til I get a mountain bike...

Anyway, back to the attrition-fest,  I mean race: after Jeff Cup's epic chain-dropping fail, I was careful to adjust my shifting when putting on the race wheels.  The first 10 miles were super-smooth: the pavement, the peloton, even my shifting.  It was pandemonium in my head though; the tightness of the pack and the occasional elbow were enough to keep me cowering at the back.  There was an attack on the first climb, and I panicked and stomped on the pedals while shifting.  Crap.  The chain came all the way off, but this time the race support moto came to help.  They fixed it and gave me a push as I started up the climb alone.  I picked up some dropped riders along the way, and 6 miles later we caught the main pack.  I sat in for a few miles and tried to catch my breath.

Photo by Barry Koblenz/BaseTwelvePhoto

 I was still recovering when another move was made, and I quickly found myself in the chase group.  With some talented sprinters in the chase, and some of my own teammates up the road, my job was now to keep our chase group from catching the pack.  Some people yelled at me to pull, but I clung to the back like a dingleberry.  In spite of my non-cooperation, we caught the pack around mile 50, this time with a few strong riders out of sight.  We settled in for the field sprint, and I got spooked as usual by the tight pack.  Farm Team took 16, 17, 18, 24, 39, and 47.  The amazing climber Veronique Fortin won in a breakaway of 5 riders.  On the way home, Thea counted down the days til the next dirt-free, sprinterly crit (I better brush up on pack handling ASAP).   

Important Battenkizzle take-away:

• I'm excited to be on this team, and finally excited about racing too.
• I need to get my bike fixed.
• Apparently, I like dirt.  A lot.
• When can we do this again?!

I later washed my face in a gas station bathroom...

Jeff Cup 2012: I'm kind of a big deal.



I don't fix dropped chains with my face, but I always end up looking that way...

There are two ways to finish a race alone: one is glorious, and the other is well...what you make of it.  Speaking of twos, coming into Jefferson Cup, I had identified two acceptable outcomes to keep me on the racing/training bandwagon: 1. to have a good enough finish that I'd be excited to keep racing, or 2. to have a frustrating enough finish that I'd be excited to keep racing.  Let's just say I finished alone, and I achieved one of those acceptable outcomes...

That's right ladies, I took my first DFL, and it was glorious.  I had my own moto, my own pace car (OK it was probably just some random family on their way to return curtains at Pottery Barn, since I was outside of the rolling enclosure), and my own photographers (I think the people snapping up shots thought I was off the front of the next race, but whatever). 

Here's how this monumental finish occurred: we started really slow, and I got all spooked every time the pack would bunch up.  I thought about quitting bike racing, this time even cooking up some specific plans on what I might do for exercise instead.  The pace picked up in the last 20 miles, and I was briefly excited about racing.  Then with 2k to go, without even shifting, I somehow dropped my chain and couldn't pedal it back on.  I hopped off and fixed it, then executed the most glorious solo finish ever, hauling ass as if I might catch the pack.  I briefly considered stopping short of the finish line to avoid the DFL in favor of a DNF, but 2012 is not about vanity.  It's about being the Lanterne Rouge and liking it, so I sprinted through the finish line like the big deal that I am.  Seriously though, the ABRT women ripped everyone's legs off and made it a great race.  Really amazing work.  Now to get this chain grease off my face...

The R Word

Every good housewife knows that months containing the letter R are good for two things: oysters, and long zone 2 rides.  Well, I plan to live it up since we've only got one R month left, and for many of us cyclists, that other R-word has already started.  You know the word I mean, the one that gives you jitters and compels you to spend your whole paycheck on wheels.  

Goodbye delicious bivalves, hello anaerobic efforts...

I can't even say the word, not because it gives me jitters or an upset stomach, or any of that other stuff that means you actually care.  I just hate the R word.  I resent it so much that I want to quit.  Last year I gave it everything: all of my vacation time, resources, relationships, certain uses of my left arm, and a good chunk of my frontal lobe.  In return, the R word gave me a few good results, some badass-looking pictures from moments that I can't even remember, and some fitness that I proceeded to throw down the drain in October.  So the R word can screw off.  The problem is, exercise is important, and instead of quitting this whole cycling thing and switching to another liberal elite endurance sport that I will eventually resent just as much, I might as well continue to flounder along in the one for which I have accumulated all this fancy equipment.

Anyway, I guess I'll figure out what there is about the R word that I can still look forward to, since it's fast-approaching and I can't expect (nor do I want badly enough to try for) the same results as last year.  So here are some side effects of the R word that are undeniably awesome:

• Road trips with friends
• Coffee
• Rocking out to your warmup mixtape
• Chillaxing with your cooldown mixtape
• Recovery shakes 
• Strange tan lines that make you feel special in some misunderstood way
• Philly water ice (trust me there are more justifiable opportunities for consuming sugar if you R than if you don't R)

OK, hopefully those reasons are enough to keep me on the R word wagon, and if all else fails, I think my parents have a pair of my old rollerblades sitting in their basement.  Renewing UCI water ice license in 3, 2, 1...

I've Made It in Life

I named her Sheena, and yes, she is a punk rocker.

One of the many lists in my head contains criteria for having "arrived" at some great place in life.  It's full of normal desirable things, like "home ownership," "feel good about myself," "petting zoo," and other stuff, both thing- and relationship-related.  Realistically, I figured the achievement of any one criterion would be good enough to count as "living the dream."  And since 2012 is all about making definitive and unsupported claims, I'll just come out and say it: I've made it. I got a time trial bike. 

I went to Elite yesterday to discuss the distant possibility of getting one.  You know, so we could figure out the ideal dimensions, in abstract preparation for riding off into the sunset on my aero machine, next to my life partner, a pink magenta unicorn.  So when I got to the shop, David and Max had mocked up a bike.  It was sparkly.  I got on it and pedaled, and they intermittently switched things out- saddles, aerobars, spacers, etc.  Since the mockup had no shifters, I was at Max's mercy to put the chain into a reasonable cog...ouch!  The whole time people were coming in and out of the shop...my buddy Alfonso, my dear friend Ashdizzle.  Elite is like Cheers, except instead of being like, "Heyyyyy buddy," you're choking out some meager greeting as Max puts you into a harder gear or David makes you do some difficult therapeutic exercises.  Anyway, I had no expectation of getting a TT bike right away, but the fit was perfect.  But since 2012 is all about doing whatever I want, when I want, I'm not actually sure that the achievement of this "monumental goal" is really that important.  Maybe the more remarkable part is the amazing and knowledgeable friends who helped make this happen.  Or maybe it's just the sparkly paint...

Recovery Eats: Green Eggs & Yam

I recently posted about an ongoing recovery crisis, and how the timing of athletic training could affect muscle repair.  With more careful adherence to the "recovery clock,"...well ok, and adding a week of unplanned recovery to my schedule, things are getting better.  After some improvement from these schedule tweaks, but still unprecedented soreness, yep, and the workouts I'm doing are NOT unprecedented so I still attribute this to getting old, I thought I'd take a more rigorous look at recovery nutrition:

This study showed a decrease in perceived soreness and an increase in power for athletes who took in protein and carbs directly after a workout, and 24 hours later.  So it sounds like the timing of short-term recovery nutrition is similar to the timing of rest that was suggested in the last post.  I also wanted to know if all proteins and carbs are created equal.  And to prevent wasting your time, I'll let you know that I didn't find a definitive study on the single "best" protein and carb for recovery.  So stop reading now.  Anyway, now that no one is reading, note to self, here are the recipes for those yummy but oddly colored treats you recently made:

I would did like them
in a house with a mouse

Green Egg Tacos: 23g protein/240 calories
Mix this up and cook it like scrambled eggs:

• 4 egg whites (high  PDCAAS )
• 1.5 tbsp algae powder, like spirulina or chlorella (these are also "complete proteins" and contain essential fatty acids)
• 2 tbsp water
• Salt & pepper
• Serve with 2 sprouted corn tortillas (sprouting promotes enzymatic activity, makes amino acids more available, and promotes alkalinity)
• Hot sauce (delicious on food, and decent as embrocation on your legs)

Not recommended for
embrocation or topical
application in general...
unless you're John Boehner
and have run out of spray tan

Orange Yamsicle Shake: 20g protein/277 calories
Put this all in a blender:

• 1 scoop plain whey protein (high PDCAAS, and faster amino breakdown than casein, the other protein in milk)
• 1c baked yam, skin removed and saved for a salad or something (yam promotes alkalinity and contains potassium)
• 1/2 tsp ginger paste or 1/4 tsp dried ginger
• 1/4 tsp cinnamon
• Some stevia (or sweetener of choice)
• Some water and ice cubes

Linking to: Food Renegade Fight Back Friday

The Recovery Clock

I just finished up a recovery week, and this was the first one that I actually felt like I needed.  Last year, a recovery week  for me was this thing I had to do because Joe Friel said so, but it mostly consisted of endorphin withdrawal and dealing with those pesky once-a-month hassles, like calling my boyfriend or washing my hair.  I didn’t feel the need for a physical break, in spite of having once referred to a questionable limp after lifting…but considering I had just come from an upper body workout, that was probably just the old Post-Gym Gangster Walk.

Now things are different: I get really exhausted and sore after workouts, especially lifting.  A few explanations for this come to mind: A. I let myself get too out-of-shape in my extended downtime, B. I just wasn't going hard enough last year, C. I'm getting old and frail, or D. something about my nutrition is different this year.  OK, let's face the truth: It's probably everything but D.  I just compared yesterday's "food diary" entry to the same date a year ago, and the only difference is a new preference for single-celled algae over last year’s multi-cellular favorites (mostly due to a coupon…ooooh…I’m really pushing the limits of risk and change here). 

Whatever the reason for this soreness is,  it’s probably a good time to look at the science of recovery.  To determine how long this frustrating process has to take, I first looked at short-term recovery.  This study looked at muscle repair after heavy resistance workouts, and it concluded that protein synthesis peaks about 24 hours after ripping one’s legs to shreds, and returns to almost normal within 36 hours.  The authors recommend spacing tough workouts at least a day and a half apart to avoid messing with the rebuilding of busted-ass muscles.  This obviously can’t be observed all the time, due to stage race training, or if you’re one of those triathlon folk, but I suppose it’s a good way to get the most bang for your buck in terms of muscle repair.

For the long-term recovery stuff, I looked to my favorite training guru.  Friel recommends monthly recovery intervals of 5-7 days, to account for that annoying inverse relationship between fatigue and form.  Annually, he recommends one or two “transition” periods lasting from a few days to a few weeks, to rejuvenate the body and mind.  Hmmm…my mind apparently needed a lot of rejuvenation over the fall, so I guess I’m good on that for…um…a decade or so.

Keeping the Faith

No, I'm not going to write a whole post about the most awesome De La Soul song ever.  What I mean to discuss is how to stay on a training plan when things get tough (even though this blog is secretly about '90's hip hop and not really about cycling at all). 

Last year I worked with a coach to improve my sprint.  Once my sprint had improved, I was able to coach myself.  I noticed that some people use coaches to "babysit" them and ensure they'll do their workouts.  "Haha," I thought to myself, "I'll never need a babysitter like those clowns." 

One year later: HELP!  I NEED A BABYSITTER!  I know what to do, but this year I'm not motivated enough to stick with it.  A couple options came to mind to make myself accountable to other people:

1. Hire a coach.  Nope, too expensive, and besides, any resources I might have had for a coach have now been diverted to a therapist.  Maybe that will eventually address this motivational deficiency...
2. Make a training plan consisting of group exercise only.  Hmmm...that could be awesome if your goals are to win Philly's World Championships of Vino Velo group ride or become the bendiest person in Power Yoga class. 
3. Do all lifting workouts with a trainer.  OK, it would obviously be helpful to have someone stand there and yell “You suck," or "You’re a f***ing god,” (depending on whether you’re motivated by self-loathing or narcissism).  In the face of limited resources, I’ve found a good compromise to be a few instructional sessions with Lance, then to stay on his gym schedule once I’m doing the prescribed lifting on my own.  Just the threat of being caught slacking is pretty motivating, but I guess that means I'm stalking my trainer...
3. Acknowledge a deity.  Maybe the thought of some omniscient being (Spaghetti Monster, Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy) could be motivating enough to make good choices.  This study found that children were 16% less likely to cheat on tests when told an invisible princess was watching.  OK, this might work assuming you have at least the mental capacity and discipline of a child, and that may not be the case for me...
4. Find some like-minded friends, and be accountable to each other.  OK, I can do that.  Thank you, Google Calendar.


So, to keep our nutrition on track, my friend Ashley and I are sharing a food diary.  And the occasional comment, like "hey man, you're definitely not getting scurvy today," is a motivating reminder that someone actually saw how many servings of grapefruit I ate that day.  It's a lot harder to make bad choices when you know someone's going to make fun of you for it later, although somehow I still manage to make my share of bad choices...

Workouts are being tracked too: several of us have shared training calendars and login info so we can check up on one another.  Is that slightly more work than paying for the "coach" edition and having everyone's workouts show up under one account?  Sure, but it's free, and we get to stick it to the man while monitoring each other's progress. 

So if you need a watchful eye to keep you on track but can't rely on a coach, group rides, or an invisible princess to make you do it, share your goals with your friends.  You're a lot more likely to achieve a goal that you've shared with someone else, and who knows what might happen; His Noodly Appendage often touches those who don't seek it...