So last night I went to a 2 hour, triathlon-geared spin class that we are lucky enough to have right down the street from where I live. It's run by an awesome guy in my triathlon club, and I thought it would be a great way to get a long ride in since the 1:45s on my trainer in the basement MAKE ME WANT TO BANG MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL. Plus, by doing my longer ride Thursday night, I can do shorter stuff on the weekend and have more time with my boys.
Holy. Smokes.
I was once again reminded that I have an ABNORMALLY HIGH, HOMO-SAPIEN DEFYING SWEAT RATE. Like, I can't even begin to tell you. I was absolutely disgusting. I filled up my towel within the first hour, and pretty much sweat after I got home until at least 10pm. Note to self:
1. You NASTY.
2. You need more than 1 water bottle for this class. What crack were you smoking when you thought bringing one was enough?
3. You need to bring a complete change of clothes, as soaking through your zip-up AND your vest almost made Matt back away to the other side of the kitchen upon arrival.
4. This workout was AWESOME, and you need to be there weekly to help you get ready for IM New Orleans 70.3, which is fast approaching 8 weeks away.
We did something like this:
20 minutes warm up
a bunch of cadence work: 2 sets of something like 1 minute at 120, 1 minute EZ, 4 minutes at 110, 1 minute EZ, 6 minutes at 100, 1 minute EZ
some other stuff I can't remember (my brain was turning to sweaty mush at this point)
strength work: 5 minutes Zone 2-3 (I was trying to keep my watts around 160), 1 minute standing, 1 minute recovery, than 4 minutes at 160 watts, 2 minutes standing, 3 minutes at 160, 3 minutes standing, 2 minutes Zone 2, 4 minutes standing, and 1 minute Zone 2, 5 minutes standing (wanted to DIE DIE DIE)
Ended with some alternating cadence and strength work
It was super fun to ride with friends and I NEVER in a MILLION years would push myself that hard in my basement watching a movie.
I did have some technical difficulties with my bike--the stupid tire started rubbing AGAIN and I know this is somehow my fault. I just can't seem to get the adjustments right when I move my bike (like in that olympic race I did last August). I really need to figure that out, because I'll be SUPER angry to the 10th power if it happens in New Orleans. Harumph. Luckily a buddy helped me fix it and was nice enough to pause his workout to help little ol' me. Thanks! :)
Up for this weekend--a swim out at Oberlin with my tri club friends including a 20 minute time trial...we'll see how this goes! I've been feeling great in the pool lately.
For now, I need to stop sweating. I'm going to cause a tidal wave of nastiness to the poor people riding around me.
Showing posts with label Ridin' Dirty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ridin' Dirty. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Coca Cola Shirts and Cavaliers
So today on my tempo run (which was fabulous, by the way), I got to thinking. I've been wanting a new, hawt, sexy tri bike for a while now.
But why? I dunno. I guess because it just seems like a natural progression or something. You know...start running, do a few sprint tris on mountain bikes, get an entry-level road bike, run a marathon, do an MS 150, think maybe an Ironman's not so crazy after all, spend a few seasons getting ready for it, finish Ironman. Want a new sexy hawt tri bike.
Now that I'm realizing how much child care costs (seriously...second mortgage, anyone?) and just signing up for races in general (for real, dawgs...does Steelhead REALLY need all $200? Would they also like my soul?), I'm thinking it's just not going to happen.
But I think that is OK.
See, I really have no business going out and getting a hawt sexy tri bike. Not just because I can't afford it. Because I'm not really even cool enough to ride it.
Seriously. I have no business on one of those things. Who am I kidding?
Growing up, my parents THANKFULLY did not allow me to succumb too much to the ridonkuluss-ness of the dreaded Middle School Years. Where most girls are mean girls, and where you tried your hardest to look like everyone else. Where you buy that purple ESPRIT sweatshirt...marked up $50 because it has the word "ESPRIT" on it and at age 11 you're not even really sure what that means but you MUST. HAVE. IT. because so-and-so has it and made fun of your outfit from Sears.
I really didn't have much ESPRIT stuff. Except for one purple sweatshirt.
But one thing I did have was a Coca Cola shirt. Exhibit A:
It was red, because it had to be. And I wore it on the first day of 6th grade with my denim skirt and loafers with the laces tied in some ornate knot that I had to do because everyone else was doing it.
I loved that Coca Cola shirt. It was the one piece of clothing I had that I really allowed myself to "buy into the hype" and feel all cool and stuff and do what everyone else was doing.
And then a few years later...and even now...I look at this thing and go, HUH?
THAT'S the fugly thing that I wanted to wear? Because everyone else said so?
Hmmm.
Since when have I cared what I'm riding? Honestly. Sheesh. I am currently driving the only car I've ever owned... a '99 Chevy Cavalier (total base model--no power locks or windows) with 92,000 miles on it. The heater and AC has two levels: high and off. The cupholder blows. There's some weird stains on the seats. It came with just a RADIO. Not even a tape deck. I splurged and spent $125 on a CD player, lest I succumb to the idiocy of Cleveland radio stations. The rust spot on my trunk is covered up with an Ironman Wisconsin magnet.
It is NOT a HAWT SEXY CAR at all.
I drive it to school and sometimes my students make fun of my car. SERIOUSLY. My students, many of whom have brand new or leased cars that are wayyyyyyyyyyy cooler than mine.
THEY'RE SIXTEEN.
Last year there was an H3 in the student parking lot.
I wish I was kidding.
I am always quick to defend my car. It's been hella more reliable than many of my friends cars. I gotta give Chewy some love. (that's her name) In fact, I sort of pride myself a bit on having a car that I paid off in 2002 still, that doesn't have any bells or whistles, and that I have money to spend on other things. Like a backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon, or whitewater rafting in the New River with friends.
(Or, lately, diapers and wipes.)
So I think I'm going to embrace my bike. Love the bike. It's a 2002 Trek 1200. I bought it with no experience whatsoever, and it took me on my first MS 150 that August. It allowed me to think, "Hey...maybe that Ironman thing...maybe it's not too crazy, since I just rode 150 miles...?" And it took me to Ironman Wisconsin. And it got me to the finish line.
She's not very sexy. But she's a workhorse.
This year, I'm going to put my FP60s on this very ordinary, very entry-level, very non-hawt bike. These FP60s, which are WAYYYYYYYY cooler and hawter than my bike, or really me for that matter. And I'm going to see how far they take me. And how far my bike takes me. But really, I'm going to see how far ME takes me.
Maybe the transition area at Steelhead will remind me of my high school's parking lot. I'm used to driving the oldest car there and it doesn't affect my work performance at all.
Perhaps ol' Chewy is trying to tell me something.
But why? I dunno. I guess because it just seems like a natural progression or something. You know...start running, do a few sprint tris on mountain bikes, get an entry-level road bike, run a marathon, do an MS 150, think maybe an Ironman's not so crazy after all, spend a few seasons getting ready for it, finish Ironman. Want a new sexy hawt tri bike.
Now that I'm realizing how much child care costs (seriously...second mortgage, anyone?) and just signing up for races in general (for real, dawgs...does Steelhead REALLY need all $200? Would they also like my soul?), I'm thinking it's just not going to happen.
But I think that is OK.
See, I really have no business going out and getting a hawt sexy tri bike. Not just because I can't afford it. Because I'm not really even cool enough to ride it.
Seriously. I have no business on one of those things. Who am I kidding?
Growing up, my parents THANKFULLY did not allow me to succumb too much to the ridonkuluss-ness of the dreaded Middle School Years. Where most girls are mean girls, and where you tried your hardest to look like everyone else. Where you buy that purple ESPRIT sweatshirt...marked up $50 because it has the word "ESPRIT" on it and at age 11 you're not even really sure what that means but you MUST. HAVE. IT. because so-and-so has it and made fun of your outfit from Sears.
I really didn't have much ESPRIT stuff. Except for one purple sweatshirt.
But one thing I did have was a Coca Cola shirt. Exhibit A:
It was red, because it had to be. And I wore it on the first day of 6th grade with my denim skirt and loafers with the laces tied in some ornate knot that I had to do because everyone else was doing it.
I loved that Coca Cola shirt. It was the one piece of clothing I had that I really allowed myself to "buy into the hype" and feel all cool and stuff and do what everyone else was doing.
And then a few years later...and even now...I look at this thing and go, HUH?
THAT'S the fugly thing that I wanted to wear? Because everyone else said so?
Hmmm.
Since when have I cared what I'm riding? Honestly. Sheesh. I am currently driving the only car I've ever owned... a '99 Chevy Cavalier (total base model--no power locks or windows) with 92,000 miles on it. The heater and AC has two levels: high and off. The cupholder blows. There's some weird stains on the seats. It came with just a RADIO. Not even a tape deck. I splurged and spent $125 on a CD player, lest I succumb to the idiocy of Cleveland radio stations. The rust spot on my trunk is covered up with an Ironman Wisconsin magnet.
It is NOT a HAWT SEXY CAR at all.
I drive it to school and sometimes my students make fun of my car. SERIOUSLY. My students, many of whom have brand new or leased cars that are wayyyyyyyyyyy cooler than mine.
THEY'RE SIXTEEN.
Last year there was an H3 in the student parking lot.
I wish I was kidding.
I am always quick to defend my car. It's been hella more reliable than many of my friends cars. I gotta give Chewy some love. (that's her name) In fact, I sort of pride myself a bit on having a car that I paid off in 2002 still, that doesn't have any bells or whistles, and that I have money to spend on other things. Like a backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon, or whitewater rafting in the New River with friends.
(Or, lately, diapers and wipes.)
So I think I'm going to embrace my bike. Love the bike. It's a 2002 Trek 1200. I bought it with no experience whatsoever, and it took me on my first MS 150 that August. It allowed me to think, "Hey...maybe that Ironman thing...maybe it's not too crazy, since I just rode 150 miles...?" And it took me to Ironman Wisconsin. And it got me to the finish line.
She's not very sexy. But she's a workhorse.
This year, I'm going to put my FP60s on this very ordinary, very entry-level, very non-hawt bike. These FP60s, which are WAYYYYYYYY cooler and hawter than my bike, or really me for that matter. And I'm going to see how far they take me. And how far my bike takes me. But really, I'm going to see how far ME takes me.
Maybe the transition area at Steelhead will remind me of my high school's parking lot. I'm used to driving the oldest car there and it doesn't affect my work performance at all.
Perhaps ol' Chewy is trying to tell me something.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
But it made sense...for a second.
So I had this theory.
The theory was, that, after consulting with several friends with newborns, formula costs an average of anywhere from $15-25/week.
I am nursing, which costs zero dollars a week.
So I think that since my knockers are saving us, let's say, $25 a week, than it's only fair to use that $100 a month and put it towards a sweet new tri bike.
Right?
I mentioned this theory to Matt, who replied by raising an eyebrow and saying, "How many bikes does one person really need?" to which I replied, "Well, that's obvious....three...one road, one mountain, and one tri...and I only have two."
Then I got a look like I had just asked for a poop sandwich for dinner.
The theory holds well, until I considered that perhaps the $25 a week my girls are saving us could probably be better spent on, oh, maybe a college fund...or putting food on the table...or paying the electric bill...
Sigh.
I thought it made perfect sense. For about five minutes.
Oh well.
The theory was, that, after consulting with several friends with newborns, formula costs an average of anywhere from $15-25/week.
I am nursing, which costs zero dollars a week.
So I think that since my knockers are saving us, let's say, $25 a week, than it's only fair to use that $100 a month and put it towards a sweet new tri bike.
Right?
I mentioned this theory to Matt, who replied by raising an eyebrow and saying, "How many bikes does one person really need?" to which I replied, "Well, that's obvious....three...one road, one mountain, and one tri...and I only have two."
Then I got a look like I had just asked for a poop sandwich for dinner.
The theory holds well, until I considered that perhaps the $25 a week my girls are saving us could probably be better spent on, oh, maybe a college fund...or putting food on the table...or paying the electric bill...
Sigh.
I thought it made perfect sense. For about five minutes.
Oh well.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Get Out There.
I posted this on the FlashPoint Racing Blog yesterday...here you go!
_______________________________
I'm going through a bit of cycling withdrawal.
I'm not really able to ride much--or at all--outside this summer, and I'm pretty bummed about it. So, I'm trying to pass along some good tri-karma to my other triathletes out there. I sent my wetsuit to my buddy Jaclyn for her first season of triathlons in Chicago. And, I passed along my FP60s to my tri-brother Eric, who will be reporting on them all season.I may have to pry them out of his hands at the end of the year, since they kick so much butt....you hear that, Eric? hee hee
So I thought I'd list the things I miss the most about riding right now, and maybe, just maybe, it would make someone out there a little excited to do a ride. Perhaps a ride they are dreading, or one that they are just bored of. Believe me...I've been there!
So what do I miss?
I miss that when it's 86 degrees outside and rainforestly humid, you can go for a 2 hour ride and feel the wind whipping against your skin and through your helmet. And it's NOTHING like trying to do a 2 hour run in oppressive, 86 degree heat with high humidity. Somehow, the ride always makes it feel cooler.
I miss talking to myself when I'm climbing up some ridiculous hill. Sometimes I'm beating myself up and cursing. Sometimes I'm encouraging and cheering. Occasionally, I'm doubting. But I'm always talking...and pushing farther than I otherwise would on a nice flat stretch.
I miss those conversations.
I miss the sound of clipping in. You still have the sound on your trainer, but in the basement it's a hollow sound. Outside, it doesn't echo...it just keeps going and reminds you that the potential for that moment is endless.
I miss saying, "On your left" as I pass someone.
I miss the 5 hour-plus ride. The ride where you have to really dig deep...where you have to prepare and think ahead, and where you never quite know what will happen or where the road will take you. Where you won't know who you might see along the way, whether it's another Ironman training partner coming from the other side of town, a 3 foot tall wild turkey, or your former AP English teacher from your senior year. (And yes...I ran into all of them last summer.) There's just something about every long ride that makes it an adventure.
I miss wondering if I've hit 90 miles yet only to check and see that I'm at 106.
I miss hearing the SWISSSSSSSHHHHHHH through my helmet as I fly downhill and my computer reads, "44 MPH."
I miss coming into T2 and feeling the excitement and wonder of the run to come.
I miss how many miles you can cover on a bike ride. Walking, and even running, just don't work that way.
I miss laying in the grass, after a long, long ride, covered in sweat and gatorade and marked by grease on my leg from my chain, when I finally take my helmet off and lay back and exhale.
So it's these moments I'll remember through my hiatus this summer. And, when I dread a ride next year as I prepare for a half-Ironman or another race, I'm going to pull this post out and remember it.
All of it.
Cyclists have the world at their feet.
Enjoy the ride.
_______________________________
I'm going through a bit of cycling withdrawal.
I'm not really able to ride much--or at all--outside this summer, and I'm pretty bummed about it. So, I'm trying to pass along some good tri-karma to my other triathletes out there. I sent my wetsuit to my buddy Jaclyn for her first season of triathlons in Chicago. And, I passed along my FP60s to my tri-brother Eric, who will be reporting on them all season.I may have to pry them out of his hands at the end of the year, since they kick so much butt....you hear that, Eric? hee hee
So I thought I'd list the things I miss the most about riding right now, and maybe, just maybe, it would make someone out there a little excited to do a ride. Perhaps a ride they are dreading, or one that they are just bored of. Believe me...I've been there!
So what do I miss?
I miss that when it's 86 degrees outside and rainforestly humid, you can go for a 2 hour ride and feel the wind whipping against your skin and through your helmet. And it's NOTHING like trying to do a 2 hour run in oppressive, 86 degree heat with high humidity. Somehow, the ride always makes it feel cooler.
I miss talking to myself when I'm climbing up some ridiculous hill. Sometimes I'm beating myself up and cursing. Sometimes I'm encouraging and cheering. Occasionally, I'm doubting. But I'm always talking...and pushing farther than I otherwise would on a nice flat stretch.
I miss those conversations.
I miss the sound of clipping in. You still have the sound on your trainer, but in the basement it's a hollow sound. Outside, it doesn't echo...it just keeps going and reminds you that the potential for that moment is endless.
I miss saying, "On your left" as I pass someone.
I miss the 5 hour-plus ride. The ride where you have to really dig deep...where you have to prepare and think ahead, and where you never quite know what will happen or where the road will take you. Where you won't know who you might see along the way, whether it's another Ironman training partner coming from the other side of town, a 3 foot tall wild turkey, or your former AP English teacher from your senior year. (And yes...I ran into all of them last summer.) There's just something about every long ride that makes it an adventure.
I miss wondering if I've hit 90 miles yet only to check and see that I'm at 106.
I miss hearing the SWISSSSSSSHHHHHHH through my helmet as I fly downhill and my computer reads, "44 MPH."
I miss coming into T2 and feeling the excitement and wonder of the run to come.
I miss how many miles you can cover on a bike ride. Walking, and even running, just don't work that way.
I miss laying in the grass, after a long, long ride, covered in sweat and gatorade and marked by grease on my leg from my chain, when I finally take my helmet off and lay back and exhale.
So it's these moments I'll remember through my hiatus this summer. And, when I dread a ride next year as I prepare for a half-Ironman or another race, I'm going to pull this post out and remember it.
All of it.
Cyclists have the world at their feet.
Enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Possibilities
I just posted on the Flash Point Blog here. I'm being a somewhat bad blogger and commenter here, but only for a little while longer...I swear!
For now, I'm off to enjoy a picnic dinner with my two boys up at the Lake! 71 degrees, baby!
Don't worry, it's supposed to be 31 on Saturday. :) March is so nutso!
Happy training, everyone!
For now, I'm off to enjoy a picnic dinner with my two boys up at the Lake! 71 degrees, baby!
Don't worry, it's supposed to be 31 on Saturday. :) March is so nutso!
Happy training, everyone!
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