Ugh

I'll jump right Climb 3, Mid Hammer Loop...Ugh! I had started today's ride with every intention of just doing simple base miles. I am, a long way off from where I'd like to be and even further away than where I should be. I had a couple of good, really good gym sessions, focusing more on legs than upper body, keeping the little demons of 'Bench-more' & 'Lift More' reserved just for my legs, after -all, I am a cyclist. A large upper body or fitness model physique would be counter productive.

My gym time this week made me realize as easy as it is for me to lift and push bigger weights, I'm really not pushing myself as hard as I ought to be. Let me explain. When I first started working out I had tremendous gains in my physique, arms and chest toned, legs were always strong, it was the one area I excelled with ease-pushing large weights with my legs. Although I never quite developed the 6 pack abs that are always desired. No matter how hard I worked at it the best I could develop was a 4 pack. No problem, 4 it is. I remember during that time I always tried to push a little more, lift a little more and before I knew it my arms were toned and firm, larger, meaner, a 'don't fuck with me' definition. Somehow between then and I now, I stopped pushing and my body quite naturally plateaued. My work-out were still hard but they became, routine. And I think that is the key, for me anyway: Breaking the routine.

Unfortunately I am stuck at the YMCA for a gym, it close, its adequate, its cheap. The leg press station at the Y has a 450 lbs limit, meaning the most I could ever load onto the station is 450lbs. When I left Golds Gym 3 years ago I was able to do 900lbs sets, before that my personal best was about 1250lbs. That was awesome. I'm not a body builder by any means but the looks on the BIG muscle guys' faces when tripled their leg press weights right after them was fun, the jaw drops and eye pops were motivating. Of course they could easily out bench me on the barbells but my moment of glory on the Leg Press was equal if not surpassed their normal-take-it-for-granted upper body strength.

I could feel the climbs were easier today. The legs today were talking to me. "Hey. We're OK down here. Keep going. We're good." I like it when my legs talk to me like that. Come to think of it my legs hardly complain. Its usually my lungs that do all the talking, quite expectedly through my mouth, gobbling up big chunks of air, exhaling with enough force to knock over a small child. On occasion, I do feel my legs burn but that usually when the lungs can not ingest enough air and the Captain is calling for warp 10. (Feel free to insert your best Scottish reply).

I didn't start out fast. I didn't want to. This was going to be a steady get re-acquainted with a longer ride type of ride. My team mates are already talking about 80 mile rides for the Mark Nicholson Remembrance Ride. 80 miles? Whoa. Right now that seems out of my range given my current physical condition. 3 years ago sure. 2 years ago why not. Last year...see early February postings. This year, I'm just a long way from there, at least for now anyway. For the most part the ride was good. Bike and legs were clicking along. A good but reserved effort was put in. I climbed up Route 3 North like I intended, with purpose.

Turning into 165 South wavered my resolve to complete the Mid Hammer Loop. I noticed water spots along the road and damp areas. I believe my last temperature read was 38 degrees according to an electronic sign on Route 3. But this was Route 165 with a descending road and possible, possibly dropping temperatures. I began to question the roads safety immediately. " I really don't want to hit the deck at 39 mph." I began feathering the breaks to my disappointment, sitting a little more upright than aero, I was gonna go easy down this road.

Then I began thinking, "Ventoux is on this loop." I looked more closely to the road for the slightest hint of ice. The rains had left the roads in near post war condition, potholes the size of a 3mm grenade launcher round, chunks of road the size my fist scattered along the side by the batches of a dozen or more. I'd would've felt more comfortable on my mountainbike.

I continued my descent down Route 165 South,darting underneath the Route 95 overpass, feathering the brakes, scrutinizing the road for any hint of ice, any hint of justification for bailing out onto Arcadia road. Again I thought to my self as I swayed far left into the middle of the road,avoiding a long stretch of melting snow and rain run off. "I out here right now. I didn't come here to leave early." Arcadia road was fast approaching at the base of this descent, its the primary turn for the Mini Hammer Loop and it serves as the 1st and lst bail out point for the Mid Hammer Loop. "Commit or quit."

I reach the base, bang gears and prepare my self for the short riser continuing past Arcadia road. I stand up on the pedals with force and determination. The cold was enveloping me. A white car passed my as I rose. I suddenly became aware of my exhaling breath as it's steam exploded out of my mouth like a Arthurian dragon, the steam rolling past me on either side as I forced down each pedal stroke. Ventoux approaches.

The light was bright enough to cast shadows onto the road despite an overcast grey sky. As old as the Spinergy Rev X's may be, they are still a really cool wheel to look at in motion. I feel like a cat sometime watching its shadow spin forward on the road making that distinct circled x shape as it emits the whum-whump sound like a helicopter. My hands grips the hoods as I resume feathering brakes. The roads are shit today demanding focus and attention.

I pass Arcadia's Mid Lot, usually a rally point for the non-local mountainbikers. I usually take a quick glance to see if I know any of the cars in the lot's trail head. Not today, too much debris in the road. Besides I just shot passed a pot hole that reminded me of my crash on Route 2 just under the 95 overpass several years ago. I had broken 3 ribs. I shook my head, don't want to relive that experience.

Ventoux was just beyond that small climb and short flat section. I began Ventoux in the large ring, curious to see if I could make all the way in the large ring like so many times in the past. Not today. I got just over half way up before I felt the need for the small ring and the urge to sit. actually my lungs were hanging out my mouth and my heart split into two and were dangling out each ear. That's when I knew I had to shift gears and ride it out. I noted the 10.5 mile mark on my computer, strangely enough it nearly coincided with the mail box marker i had been using for years.

The descent down Ventoux was largely uneventful, I did have to swing wide and left into the idle of 165 to avoid a section of ground chatter. Couple of really bad debris sections but nothing more. A left onto Woodyhill Road, Climb 3 another left onto Skunkhill, Heartbreak and done for the day.
Climb 3 is a short steepish section for this area. It begins moderately then in the middle is a 20-30 feet level section then the last section, over all less than a half mile:climb to summit. I shifted gears. This was base. No heroic effort needed. Just gut it out and then descend. I had already shifted into the smaller chain ring. I just didn't want to lay down effort. Before I knew it I was standing on the pedals tugging and grunting on the handle bars. Already feeling the oxygen deprivation affect my head. Face felt warm. Sucking in air almost enough to pull the pine needles off the branches. It was almost like an out of body experience or a climb-take over. I put in a harder effort than I mentally planned. As if my muscle memory collectively said "I want to climb with effort" And I did. And it was paid for with lungs and pounding heart rate.
Ugh! I've only reached the level section. Grin and bear it just 'a little' more a head. "They call me Cowboy...a singer in black...show me your finger and let me know where you at..." . "I, AM, AMERICAN BAD ASS!" Yep that's me with lungs out my mouth and split-heart dangling out each ear.

On the descent down I think I figured out the mystery to my HRM readings from September where I record Max HR readings of 202 bpm. The vibration from the road particularly on choppy descents. I noticed my HRM read 201 on a descent with choppy road and it returned a normal reading when I stabilized it with my hand. At least I now know I wasn't suffering painless phantom heart attacks.

Heartbreak Hill proved to be a little bit of a reward: Climb, done, descend and cruise on home.

iPod- "American Bad Ass" Kid Rock