Pain and a Few Words on Modesty

The last day of June was my first "real" mountain bike ride of the year. How f#@king sad is that?

I'll tell you it's pretty sad coming from a guy that used to live, and I stress live, to mountain bike. I rode, trained and raced. I ate, drank and slept to mountain bike. I even got sorta fast. Sorta.

But last night on the trails above Ogden was just brutal. Buhrootal. My bike is old. I'm too fat for my clothes. My fitness is lacking. Any riding skills I ever had have packed and left. I've been out on a couple of shorter rides this year and last night in the heat really confirmed the aforementioned woes.

Yet, in spite of the pain in my "quads" and back and pride, I still enjoyed myself immensely. Which got me thinking. When I started mountain biking 20 years ago (HOLY SHIT!), a mountain bike was all I had to ride and mountains were pretty much where I rode it. Then I started racing and bought a road bike to train on. Then I started riding more and more on the road, but still had time as a single man to get my mountain bike fix. If I rode five days a week, two or three would be in the dirt.

Then I started really enjoying the road bike. There is something great about mindlessly ticking off the miles, and it is easy to open the garage and just go out for a couple of hours. And I got a new bike I really like riding.

All of the sudden life got all serious with a kid and house and stuff, and I am lucky to ride twice a week. Then along came marathons. Try training for those and riding bikes. Then triathlons. Three sports to train for, four if you count mountain and road biking separately.

What's a guy to do? Day's aren't getting any longer. My life ain't either. I've been tempted to unload the road bike and get back to only riding a mountain bike. But then I lose the ability to grab and go on the road bike. And I do still enjoy the road bike. And why do I sign up for marathons? I need to swim, my back appreciates it, especially when riding.

I guess I need to just learn to embrace mediocrity. Even though my loss of mountain bike skills is a tough pill to swallow, I like the other stuff enough that I need to get used to it.

On a different subject, I hope that modesty comes back into fashion as Smarty Pants grows up. I've had a pair of incidents lately with attractive, long-legged ladies running/hiking in booty shorts with seriously, a one-inch inseam. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from a prude and certainly like looking, but save it for the swimming pools - where you expect to see it.

I hope fashion re-vovles into clothing that keeps ass cheeks covered by the time my daughter is a teenager. I can't follow her everywhere with a loaded assault rifle.

Coexist

One of the few things the people I bought my house from blessed us with is a strawberry patch. Though not huge, it provides us with enough of the seedy little nibbles for about a month or so every year. We don't get enough to do anything like canning or jamming (metal kick), but I do end up eating more waffles and french toast this time of year.

The trouble is, something else likes my strawberries. I'll frequently wander out to the patch in my manties in the morning (neighbors be damned), clutching a cup of joe (double damned), to get a handful of strawberries for my breakfast. I end up tossing a fair number of berries because they are half devoured. I never knew what was assaulting my treats until yesterday. Sow bugs. Roly Polys. Potato bugs. These multi-legged throwbacks to the paleolithic period are burrowing into the fruit of my garden's loins. Them and their blobulous little sluggy buddies.

Bastards. I think Smarty Pants, lover of all things armored and segmented, said it best after inspecting the nibbly damage they had caused. " Darn roly polys. I just don't think I can ever forgive them."

Damn straight, kid. So what's a guy to do when his labor of love is getting overrun by living ooze and tiny armadillos? Not sure. I hate insect sprays on the garden because I like to just pick and eat. Napalm is out. And it isn't like I despise all bugs. Just the ones that eat my fruits and veggies.

Or I could just coexist. (Insert sudden thought of the Coexist bumper sticker spelled out with fruit, bugs and the "O" as a no sign with pesticide.) Ha. Funny shit. They don't do much damage I guess. Now if the little bastards start on my potatoes or carrots, that will be different. Or earwigs (hated, vile creatures they are) get into my corn again. I'm just going to keep that napalm option open...

Does this Jersey Make Me Look Fat?

With summer finally coming to Utah, I have been making some occasional forays into exercise. It hasn't been easy. The getting out and enjoying the sun has been easy, it's the exercise itself that has been the toughie. My legs are killing me. No speed. No endurance. Both combine to make the Morgan (gulp) Marathon I am signed up for appear daunting. Tough course, light on fitness. It's going to be a slog. But, it's free because I won an entry. Heck, maybe I won't even finish this one. Or maybe I will. I dunno. I am hoping to make it under 4.5 hours.

So I am out riding the other day, on my way to East Canyon spillway. I catch my shadow on the road and notice I still have a little hair out the back of the lid. Then I remember I have on my white and pink Fat Cyclist jersey. And I haven't exactly been hittin' the weight room lately... and I start to wonder if I look like a woman. Long-ish hair, narrow shoulders, pink on my shirt... and it did seem like I was getting a little more room from passing cars. This is what I think about on road rides. Plus a bunch more stuff that I can't recall because I forget by the time I get back. But let me assure you there is some mind-blowing, world-saving shit going on in my head when I ride. And when I shower. I think of a lot of great stuff in the shower. I thought up a new ad campaign in the shower and now it is in national magazines. All while I am in lycra. Or naked and soapy with a shampoo mohawk.

Other than the Morgan Marathon, I don't really have any events that I am solid on. Mainly because work is nutzo and home projects are rampant and I just don't dare commit to anything too difficult. There are some trail runs out there. Maybe one of the Bear Lake triathlons - provided I do some swimming. If I do start swimming regularly, XTERRA is an option. At least the sprint. Regardless, now that the weather is looking warm I am just stoked to be training, even if it is for nothing particular. And that is my goal, to be fit enough to go and do any event, within reason, without gobs of specific training.

My run training for the marathon has increased. Unfortunately, I miss some runs that I normally get to do on my lunch break because I am just too dang busy to feel good about going. My pace has been slow, but in retrospect I think it is because I am tired from biking or longer runs. I had a shorter run last week and it kicked ass. But I ran 12 on Sunday and felt like shit. But I rode 40 miles the day before. I think that good training, with a short taper and some good rest before the marathon, and careful pacing will have me finishing and not hating myself.

I really need to lose 10 pounds. My jerseys are kinda tight...

Let There Be Light!

I must admit that this is the worst shape I’ve been in, this late in the spring, for years. I’m going to go ahead and blame it on the weather. Again. Unlike previous years, this year has been extra wet and cold. Cold I can handle. Wet, less so. But both together are a deal breaker.

The sun has been trying to show itself more though, and it has been glorious. In the last week I’ve managed a pair of bike rides, one being the first mtb ride of the season, a couple of runs that have been less than pleasant and even made it back to the pool. The combination of sun and exercise has really motivated me. My attitude has improved — important because the amount of work in front of me is so overwhelming I want to hide until June, 2012.

I still have no fitness goals set for the summer. No LOTOJA this summer because I missed the registration deadline. I’ve also been waiting to see how much travelling I would be doing for work to set goals, lest I register for something and can’t make it because I am working on location. But it now appears most of my travelling will be in the fall and I am now free to commit to … something.

Maybe I’ll sign up for another half iron race; the Bear Lake race in August looks appealing. A trail running race might be different and interesting to try. Some mountain bike racing, a journey back to my racing roots, would be great. XTERRA long course? Maybe. Right now the summer is a blank slate and it’s feeling great to finally have the motivation to start filling it in.

I’m Here!

Since I have posted nothing of note since last fall, I’m going to skip the laziness and sloth of last winter and jump right into the very cold and wet “spring” in Utah. First up is a brief Canyondlands Half Marathon race report, followed by my first ride of twenty eleven. Before I begin, here is a transcript of an actual conversation I had recently.

Them: “Did I see you out running the other day?”

Moi: “Probably.”

Them: “What are you training for?”

Moi: “Nothing.”

Them: “Are you trying to lose weight?”

Moi: “No.”

Them: “What are you running for then?”

Moi: “I like it. I’ve run off and on since junior high.”

(Silence.)

Well, I thought it was funny. On with the show.

Canyonlands Half Marathon Race Report

It sucked. The hardest and slowest half marathon time of my life. I ran Vikingman faster with bad knees and 56 miles of bike before it. Headwind. It’s my own fault. I just didn’t get enough miles in. The wet winter kept me indoors. Being extra busy at work kept me from getting in my lunchtime runs. Excuses. Lazy. NOtivation.

Still, I’m philosophical about the experience and learned a few things: I was harshly reminded that you can’t hide from 13 miles of running. The minimum is just that, barely enough to get you by. And lastly, I like being in shape way better than not.

The weekend was fun though, I did some damage to my liver and ate very well. Katie and Kevin are awesome hosts. And it’s in Moab. What more can you want? Less wind maybe…

Back in the Saddle – First Ride of Twenty-Eleven

I made it before April. Barely. The first bike ride of twenty-eleven. Glad it’s out of the way. In typical FROTY (first ride of the year) fashion, it was more work than fun. My knees protested, ass started to hurt. I pedaled squares on the way back as I battled mounting fatigue, a stiff headwind and rolling hills that forced me to slow to a crawl. In short, it was g-l-o-r-i-ous, glorious. Better if you read it like singing the song by Them.

Yep, glorious. Just to be on the road again is a good thing. I didn’t even mind dodging old ladies u-turning on me and going deaf from Harley’s roaring by with nary a baffle in their exhaust pipes. What did bother me was that out of the dozen or so other cyclists I saw, only one waved back at me. Thank you, incredibly bolt-upright rider man for returning my salutation. Even the runners I saw offered a friendly nod my way. Not my fellow cyclists though. Maybe it was because I wasn’t wearing my official The Bike Shoppe team kit? Perhaps it was because I was on my non-carbon fiber cyclocross bike shod with 32s (which make Morgan County roads near bliss I must add)? Is it possible my gangly early-season form made me appear to be a new rider and thus less than those vastly superior specimens? Whatever it was, it was lame. Be friendly to your fellows.

It was also good because even though it’s taken 20 years of cycling, and with my age, a likely reduction in testosterone but I’m now smart enough to know that the first few rides of the season shouldn’t be exuberant, mouth-foaming death marches. I rode for an hour and a half and finished the ride without feeling shelled. Not normal for the FROTY. It makes me excited to get back out again, this time on the mountain bike. But I need to do some work on that, which I’ll have some time to do this weekend, while it snows again. And I get over this cold I now have.