Yesterday I was supposed to have dinner at a friend’s house at 7:30. I was stoked about what was sure to be a fancypants, delicious dinner, but I was a little concerned about getting in the hour ride and 1500 yd swim for the day, especially since I didn’t roll out of bed til after 7 AM. I decided to solve the problem by working through lunch, leaving work at 4:30, riding at the park til I was kicked off by the crits, hit the pool, get home, and jet to dinner. It was a good plan except it’s stupid; in order to make the magic happen, I’d have to take my bike in the cab of my truck to avoid theft and tacking on 40 minutes of travel time. In case that’s not obvious, this is a bad idea. I promised myself I’d admit defeat if it took me more than 7 minutes to shove my bike into the passenger seat, but alas! It only took 5 minutes. I pulled out of my apartment complex a few minutes later with my cheek resting on my front fork... classy.
A few minutes after that, the fork jabbed my chin and left a trail of grease no one cared to mention to me for several hours... classy.
Anyway, I achieved moderate success getting my work done, and left the office on time. I got to the park, put my front wheel back on Lucy, and started to change in the middle of the street (also classy, I know). I thought it would be easy since I was wearing a dress, but I overestimated my ability to shimmy out of my clothes; I think I flashed two unsuspecting cars as they passed. Tough nuggets! After finally getting the dress off, I realize that I have no sports bra to put on. “Oh well,” I think. “Cycling isn’t that jiggle-inducing,” and I tossed on my t-shirt and headed over to the loop to get my cycle on.
My information source said that the crits started at 6:30, giving me plenty of time to jet before folks started warming up for the races. My source was wrong. The sign posted on the loop said the first races started at 5:50, giving me exactly an hour to work out. Everything’s cool still, right? Right. Never mind I’m the only tri bike in sight and wearing a t-shirt and $15 sunglasses. It’s about the workout, not impressing some snooty cyclists. So I rode for my 10 minute warm-up, then am motioned to switch directions on the one way path by 4 or 5 guys going the other way (the crits race clockwise, which is opposite what the path signs indicate). Oops! I turned around. I mostly got passed by folks who don’t have to brake at every turn like I do, but it was okay. Occasionally I had to sit behind some slow cyclists who were taking up the whole lane, but eventually got around them. Then suddenly, the slow people picked up the pace and flew by me. Wow! I tried to catch up for the next 20 minutes and failed, but while doing so I’m going 20+ and EXCEEDING THE SPEED LIMIT on the course. This is immaterial and not even that fast for most, but it’s a helluva lot faster than the 15 mph average I was showing 5 weeks ago. I’m an animal! I’m amazing! Wait! I’m blocked in?
It was 5:50 and the riders had lined up across the entire path, and they were 2-3 deep. What? I’d assumed that someone would indicate we needed to clear the course before a freaking peloton zoomed past, but I was wrong. I slowed and made eye contact with a cyclist. “Excuse me, but do you know how to get out...” the freaking turdface ignored me because he’s a cyclist and cyclists are just about the meanest people in the sports world. This wasn’t that surprising, but while I was trying to get his attention, I’d slowed to almost a complete stop while clipped in. Before I could even finish my question, I toppled over while frantically trying to unclip. All 30 riders and their spectators turn to look at me in a heap under my bike. Someone laughed. I was mortified--more than I have been in years--but mostly fine. My bike computer wasn’t computing, my handlebar tape had a fresh gash, and my hand hurt from landing on it, but my pride was completely destroyed. Finally a spectator said I could probably get out around the edge of the riders (“they’re pretty nice guys” she said. Um, YEAH RIGHT), and I did. As I tip-toed through the edge of the crowd, someone said, “Keep up the hard work--you’ll get it” and “Good effort.” What is this, lollipop soccer? I’m a grown woman and was going a respectable pace the entire time. I just happened to forget to unclip, and it’s because I’m still getting used to my pedals (funny note: 30 minutes before this episode I was patting myself on the back for adjusting to the new pedals so quickly. Ha!). I mean, if you can’t ride the 1.2 mile picnic loop without getting pity comments (and laughter), where can you ride?
I immediately called my roommate and actually started crying. Sigh. My episode subsided rather quickly though, and I headed to the Y. There was a guy at the parking lot asking for passes, and I searched my keychain. Where the heck was my Y pass? After about a minute of looking he finally just told me to go on, and of course I found it after that (it’d been removed from my keyring when my car got serviced the other day). But somehow, 20 seconds later, I couldn’t find my keys. They all disappeared save my car key that was still in the ignition. Finally I gave up searching and went to swim.
Nothing happened in the pool except I peed. I love peeing in the pool. But when I got out of my shower after my workout, trouble popped up again: I had no bra to wear. I had no swimsuits to wear (strange b/c usually there’s 4 in my bag, not just one). I was leaving the Young Men’s Christian Association brazenly missing a bra--show #2 for the afternoon. Sigh... I’m a pinnacle of classiness.
I got home and started to tell this very story when I got interrupted at the no sports bra part. Roomie rudely insisted I was being silly for getting embarrassed about falling in front of complete strangers. What a completely wrong thing to say! We left for our friends where nothing bad happened (and where my hostess insisted that the fall was pretty effing embarrassing and it was okay to be upset. Ahem... thank you). And the badness ended.
Today I’m over it, but I still wanted to share. :-)
4 other things: 1) This was the last of the crits for the year. Praises! 2) I now have to swim with my fingers on my left hand rubber banded together. It sucks, but it works. Remind me to get my bike refitted when I get back from Wisconsin. 3) I found my keys under a pile of bike/swim stuff in my backseat-ish area--like I buried them. Sigh. 4) The weather right now is gorgeous! I never thought I’d say that during a week when it still “Feels Like” 90+, but, well, I did.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Crazy dreams linger on...
Patsy Cline reference (the title). Anyway--
Last night I had some crazy dreams. The first one I remember was talking to my tri friend Kay about her new job with a chemical company. Since the place wasn’t far from my job (we were in NYC too... I don't know why. I don't even like the place), I strolled over there about 9:00 AM on her first day at the new place, when lots of execs happened to be showing up. Well, they liked me and instantly hired me (for a LOT more than I’m making now...sad. But I love dreams). I accepted, but felt very strange since it was a Wednesday. Should I finish the week at my old job? Did I really want to leave my company? After all, I liked it a lot. I sorted through these problems by not actually working at my new job and just talking to Kay. It was super fun. Later, however, one exec told me to go get a new wardrobe because I wasn’t very fashionable (couldn’t I have let myself be fashionable in my own dream?? Sigh). She ended up taking me to this boutique, where I spent like effing $1300 on a dress, a purse I hated, and a pair of leather pants. Yes, leather pants. I was super pissed and was about the resolve the problem--somehow--when Lily woke me. Silly kitty!
The next dream was much cooler, though my girl Kay wasn’t hanging out with me. I was at IM Wisconsin whooping some ass. Oh yeah. I posted a 1:08 swim time, two transitions under 5:30, and a bike leg that averaged 15.9 mph (which is quite speedy for me). In the dream I was finishing up the run, and it was dark. Toward the finish line I kind of left my body--which, much like reality on the marathon of an IM, felt like shit--to watch myself finish in 12:51. 12:51! That’s a 10:18 run pace, probably way faster than what I’ll actually run, at least in WI. I train around 9:50 for my long runs, but I don’t think I’ll come close to that in the race. Of course, maybe I could if I actually followed my nutrition plan, especially on the bike. Though it was a dream, that finish was an incredible feeling. One day I’ll do it--in real life? After all, it’s high time I make some race goals that aren’t 100% feasible; achieving them every time (okay, both times) is getting old.
Last night I had some crazy dreams. The first one I remember was talking to my tri friend Kay about her new job with a chemical company. Since the place wasn’t far from my job (we were in NYC too... I don't know why. I don't even like the place), I strolled over there about 9:00 AM on her first day at the new place, when lots of execs happened to be showing up. Well, they liked me and instantly hired me (for a LOT more than I’m making now...sad. But I love dreams). I accepted, but felt very strange since it was a Wednesday. Should I finish the week at my old job? Did I really want to leave my company? After all, I liked it a lot. I sorted through these problems by not actually working at my new job and just talking to Kay. It was super fun. Later, however, one exec told me to go get a new wardrobe because I wasn’t very fashionable (couldn’t I have let myself be fashionable in my own dream?? Sigh). She ended up taking me to this boutique, where I spent like effing $1300 on a dress, a purse I hated, and a pair of leather pants. Yes, leather pants. I was super pissed and was about the resolve the problem--somehow--when Lily woke me. Silly kitty!
The next dream was much cooler, though my girl Kay wasn’t hanging out with me. I was at IM Wisconsin whooping some ass. Oh yeah. I posted a 1:08 swim time, two transitions under 5:30, and a bike leg that averaged 15.9 mph (which is quite speedy for me). In the dream I was finishing up the run, and it was dark. Toward the finish line I kind of left my body--which, much like reality on the marathon of an IM, felt like shit--to watch myself finish in 12:51. 12:51! That’s a 10:18 run pace, probably way faster than what I’ll actually run, at least in WI. I train around 9:50 for my long runs, but I don’t think I’ll come close to that in the race. Of course, maybe I could if I actually followed my nutrition plan, especially on the bike. Though it was a dream, that finish was an incredible feeling. One day I’ll do it--in real life? After all, it’s high time I make some race goals that aren’t 100% feasible; achieving them every time (okay, both times) is getting old.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Crotch rocket
I got a new bike. It’s funny—every time I think “crotch rocket” I start singing “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner in my head. I don’t know what’s sadder, that I know the words (from the double disc Foreigner album I have at home… I’m a loser) or that I make such an absurd association. Anyway, I could jump right into talking about my ride, but that’s not my style; here’s the long road to on-topic prose:
Last week I had something of a well-being meltdown. Tuesday during hills I noticed that I felt really bad instead of the normal bad, but I chalked it up to the hot weather (as compared to the week before, not weather in general. It’s always hot here, remember?). On Wednesday I was scheduled to do my last superlong run, but my stomach had other ideas. After 12 miles I couldn’t go anymore. I didn’t even shower—just headed home, (showered,) choked down some rice, and hit the sack at 8:30. Sleep cures all.
Oh wait! No it doesn’t. Thursday I felt worse, and after a quick run in the morning that also ended in disappointment, I decided to take the afternoon off. Well, that’s not true; originally I was just going to go to spin class instead of tacking on the additional hour after class, but it took me 30 minutes to get out of the ^*%!ing parking garage at work; spinning classes were not in my future when I’d be that late. Instead, I went straight to the bike shop to purchase the ugly bike.
When I got there, the guy who’d helped me test ride bikes was gone, but the fitting specialist was there. I asked if he’d ever buy a bike he thought was ugly and he reacted quite strongly (no). This wasn’t helping me overcome my hesitation to drop a chunk on my new pony, but I made the plunge anyway. I’m better than that, right? Besides, I’d called every Felt dealer between here, Austin, and Dallas; there was not an S22 in my near future. If I wanted a new bike it had to be this one.
I meant to get a ride in with my new baby—dubbed Lucetta/Lucy—on Friday, but things didn’t work out between work and the desire to actually hang out with my roommate more than saying hi before eating the dinner and trucking to bed. Instead, we ate some mexican and went to bed early. Saturday would be the inaugural ride: 120 miles of (hopefully) bliss.
I had emailed George on Friday about the extreme shittiness I was feeling and he suggested a cut my ride to a more “reasonable distance.” I took this to mean 115 miles instead of 120. About 3 miles into the ride though, I was thinking I’d be lucky to squeeze out 20 given the unpleasant feeling in my crotch. Apparently this new seat was going to cut the mustard in all the wrong ways. By the time I got to the 23 mile mark where the group had stopped to refuel/let me catch up, I wanted a ride home in a car. I said I was cutting my ride to 40 miles til someone said they wanted to buy raffle tickets for my fundraiser; I then decided I could eek out 60 with the group to raise another $20. It’s for charity folks! Besides, I didn’t know where the turnoff was to take the 40 mile loop. A few minutes later we pressed on.
The ride got better. After mile 23 I didn’t get dropped again, and I sorta went numb about 30 miles in. Once I wasn’t distracted by the fire down below I really liked my Lucy, and could focus on exerting some effort on the road instead of finding creative ways of sitting to relieve my pain. I got to socialize a bit, work in a solid 60 miles, and become accustomed to my new baby, particularly the different shifting setup. By the end of the ride I was glad I didn’t wait around for my dream bike—I loved Lucy (awww). After all, she was plenty nice enough for me and an unbelievable improvement over Big Hoss. Besides, I don’t need to be one of those tri dbags that has an extraordinarily nice bike but is slow as crap… then I couldn’t make fun of them constantly (while also being insanely jealous of their disposable income). Besides, I’m a kid; when I’m over the hill (29) and need the extra incentive to train, I’ll roll up in a top of the line bike—and I’ll make sure it’s carbon too, because when I sell out I’m gonna go all the way. But my nasty side is making me digress… And I’m joking about the 29 by the way.
People always anticipate being faster on a new bike, even when they say they don’t have such silly expectations. The truth is, new bikes do make you faster. Initially when riding the new wheels one thinks, “Oh bummer, I’m not any faster than I was on my old beater bike.” Then comes the realization: throwing money at it won’t fix the problem. Personally having this experience will allow one—well, allowed me—to fully accept that reality and work even harder on the new bike than the one before. For me, I’m no longer ashamed of my bottom-of-the-line road bike with broken aerobars (though you can’t SEE they’re broken I still know), $30 mountain biking shoes, and non-fancy wheels because I no longer have those things save the non-fancy wheels. I’m on a tri bike that, while tacky as shit, is decent in the sea of expensive bikes it hangs out with on a regular basis. It’s easier to ride than my old bike, and (with my new seat that I replaced Saturday immediately after the ride) more comfortable. Riding is fun, and I’ve never genuinely said that before. I expect the next year to bring great breakthroughs in my biking abilities. Who knows, maybe I can drop another 2.6 hours from my time in Arizona 2007! Dare to dream.
Oh, I should mention that I actually am faster on my new bike than my old one. It could be the 5 lbs I lost (via the bike, not via the fat), the 650 wheels (which are actually faster, and the smaller tube size allows me to take 2 spares with me. Yippee!), or the joy of riding an actual tri bike. I also coughed up money for some Ultegra spd-sl’s instead of the spd’s I had on my old bike. I’m all grown up!
I forgot about the other bad thing that happened Saturday/Sunday (I rode again to test out my new women’s specific saddle. Allow me to get off topic and say the WSD bike design I’m not totally buying into, but I’ll be damned if my lady parts ever sit on a “unisex” saddle again). I bought a new pair of cycling gloves because my 4 year old pair is starting to wear through the palms. Unfortunately, the seat fiasco Saturday had me up on the handlebars more than I intended, and my palms were pretty numb. Bummer, huh? On Sunday, however, the problem escalated. My palms were again numb, but this time I couldn’t get full control of my pinkie finger on my left hand. I freaked because hey, that's what I named my blog. But, I figured it’d be better by Monday. Indeed, there was vast improvement there, though I couldn’t exactly swim since my fingers refused to stay together on my left hand. I assumed I’d continue to get better, but I haven’t. I’m starting to worry I’ve done permanent damage to my hand, which would obviously suck a lot. I’m heading out to swim right now and think I might have to put a rubber band around my fingers to keep them together. Does anyone know if that’s legal in a sanctioned race? I hope so or I’m S-C-R-E-W-D screwed. Hey, at least I’ll have a decent bike split, right?
Last week I had something of a well-being meltdown. Tuesday during hills I noticed that I felt really bad instead of the normal bad, but I chalked it up to the hot weather (as compared to the week before, not weather in general. It’s always hot here, remember?). On Wednesday I was scheduled to do my last superlong run, but my stomach had other ideas. After 12 miles I couldn’t go anymore. I didn’t even shower—just headed home, (showered,) choked down some rice, and hit the sack at 8:30. Sleep cures all.
Oh wait! No it doesn’t. Thursday I felt worse, and after a quick run in the morning that also ended in disappointment, I decided to take the afternoon off. Well, that’s not true; originally I was just going to go to spin class instead of tacking on the additional hour after class, but it took me 30 minutes to get out of the ^*%!ing parking garage at work; spinning classes were not in my future when I’d be that late. Instead, I went straight to the bike shop to purchase the ugly bike.
When I got there, the guy who’d helped me test ride bikes was gone, but the fitting specialist was there. I asked if he’d ever buy a bike he thought was ugly and he reacted quite strongly (no). This wasn’t helping me overcome my hesitation to drop a chunk on my new pony, but I made the plunge anyway. I’m better than that, right? Besides, I’d called every Felt dealer between here, Austin, and Dallas; there was not an S22 in my near future. If I wanted a new bike it had to be this one.
I meant to get a ride in with my new baby—dubbed Lucetta/Lucy—on Friday, but things didn’t work out between work and the desire to actually hang out with my roommate more than saying hi before eating the dinner and trucking to bed. Instead, we ate some mexican and went to bed early. Saturday would be the inaugural ride: 120 miles of (hopefully) bliss.
I had emailed George on Friday about the extreme shittiness I was feeling and he suggested a cut my ride to a more “reasonable distance.” I took this to mean 115 miles instead of 120. About 3 miles into the ride though, I was thinking I’d be lucky to squeeze out 20 given the unpleasant feeling in my crotch. Apparently this new seat was going to cut the mustard in all the wrong ways. By the time I got to the 23 mile mark where the group had stopped to refuel/let me catch up, I wanted a ride home in a car. I said I was cutting my ride to 40 miles til someone said they wanted to buy raffle tickets for my fundraiser; I then decided I could eek out 60 with the group to raise another $20. It’s for charity folks! Besides, I didn’t know where the turnoff was to take the 40 mile loop. A few minutes later we pressed on.
The ride got better. After mile 23 I didn’t get dropped again, and I sorta went numb about 30 miles in. Once I wasn’t distracted by the fire down below I really liked my Lucy, and could focus on exerting some effort on the road instead of finding creative ways of sitting to relieve my pain. I got to socialize a bit, work in a solid 60 miles, and become accustomed to my new baby, particularly the different shifting setup. By the end of the ride I was glad I didn’t wait around for my dream bike—I loved Lucy (awww). After all, she was plenty nice enough for me and an unbelievable improvement over Big Hoss. Besides, I don’t need to be one of those tri dbags that has an extraordinarily nice bike but is slow as crap… then I couldn’t make fun of them constantly (while also being insanely jealous of their disposable income). Besides, I’m a kid; when I’m over the hill (29) and need the extra incentive to train, I’ll roll up in a top of the line bike—and I’ll make sure it’s carbon too, because when I sell out I’m gonna go all the way. But my nasty side is making me digress… And I’m joking about the 29 by the way.
People always anticipate being faster on a new bike, even when they say they don’t have such silly expectations. The truth is, new bikes do make you faster. Initially when riding the new wheels one thinks, “Oh bummer, I’m not any faster than I was on my old beater bike.” Then comes the realization: throwing money at it won’t fix the problem. Personally having this experience will allow one—well, allowed me—to fully accept that reality and work even harder on the new bike than the one before. For me, I’m no longer ashamed of my bottom-of-the-line road bike with broken aerobars (though you can’t SEE they’re broken I still know), $30 mountain biking shoes, and non-fancy wheels because I no longer have those things save the non-fancy wheels. I’m on a tri bike that, while tacky as shit, is decent in the sea of expensive bikes it hangs out with on a regular basis. It’s easier to ride than my old bike, and (with my new seat that I replaced Saturday immediately after the ride) more comfortable. Riding is fun, and I’ve never genuinely said that before. I expect the next year to bring great breakthroughs in my biking abilities. Who knows, maybe I can drop another 2.6 hours from my time in Arizona 2007! Dare to dream.
Oh, I should mention that I actually am faster on my new bike than my old one. It could be the 5 lbs I lost (via the bike, not via the fat), the 650 wheels (which are actually faster, and the smaller tube size allows me to take 2 spares with me. Yippee!), or the joy of riding an actual tri bike. I also coughed up money for some Ultegra spd-sl’s instead of the spd’s I had on my old bike. I’m all grown up!
I forgot about the other bad thing that happened Saturday/Sunday (I rode again to test out my new women’s specific saddle. Allow me to get off topic and say the WSD bike design I’m not totally buying into, but I’ll be damned if my lady parts ever sit on a “unisex” saddle again). I bought a new pair of cycling gloves because my 4 year old pair is starting to wear through the palms. Unfortunately, the seat fiasco Saturday had me up on the handlebars more than I intended, and my palms were pretty numb. Bummer, huh? On Sunday, however, the problem escalated. My palms were again numb, but this time I couldn’t get full control of my pinkie finger on my left hand. I freaked because hey, that's what I named my blog. But, I figured it’d be better by Monday. Indeed, there was vast improvement there, though I couldn’t exactly swim since my fingers refused to stay together on my left hand. I assumed I’d continue to get better, but I haven’t. I’m starting to worry I’ve done permanent damage to my hand, which would obviously suck a lot. I’m heading out to swim right now and think I might have to put a rubber band around my fingers to keep them together. Does anyone know if that’s legal in a sanctioned race? I hope so or I’m S-C-R-E-W-D screwed. Hey, at least I’ll have a decent bike split, right?
Friday, August 18, 2006
Shot through the heart
Yesterday when digging through the pile that is "months of crap to file" looking for my Rudy Project discount, I came across the July issue of Outside. Floyd Landis glared at me from the cover, and it nearly broke my heart. Just when I thought there was hope for love, admiration...
I'll never have another sports hero again. :-(
(another interesting thought: Outside weighs heavily on my opinions about all things sports. I want to go to Iceland for the summer solstice because Outside told me it was incredible [was supposed to go with my mom one day and chase puffin babies, soak in hot springs, and ride bikes :-(]. I don't like Dean Karnazes despite his being a badass because of an article run in Outside about some female ultra chick who psuedo-fueds with the guy. I think mountain biking is cool in part because of Outside... and in part because it is cool, but still. What do you think about using Ironman® branded products, Outside? I need to know my opinion.)
I'll never have another sports hero again. :-(
(another interesting thought: Outside weighs heavily on my opinions about all things sports. I want to go to Iceland for the summer solstice because Outside told me it was incredible [was supposed to go with my mom one day and chase puffin babies, soak in hot springs, and ride bikes :-(]. I don't like Dean Karnazes despite his being a badass because of an article run in Outside about some female ultra chick who psuedo-fueds with the guy. I think mountain biking is cool in part because of Outside... and in part because it is cool, but still. What do you think about using Ironman® branded products, Outside? I need to know my opinion.)
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Buyer's crisis
I’m buying a bike this week. Well, in theory I am.
I went shopping all weekend after weeks of comparing prices, specs, and materials online. What I found was that August is a bad time to buy a bike if you ride a 52. Why? Because the new model year comes out in September and the bike you’ve been lusting after for the past two years won’t be available in any bike shop in the entire city. Or something.
But despite that, I found a bike I love. I rode more expensive bikes and made bitter beer faces while doing so. This lovable bike, while from a brand I don’t like and a line I downright despise, felt like it was made for me. And it was $1000 less than my budget! Sounds like a dream, right?
NO. It just so happens that the 2005 Cannondale Ironman 800 (only in blue) is the ugliest bike I’ve laid eyes on. It’s way nastier than the bike about which I’ve been dreaming for all these long months: the Felt S22. Never mind I can’t find an S22 to test ride to save my life, and that it’s very likely I won’t like it. What do I know about what I like? Before last weekend would have guessed that the Cervélo I rode would have made my heart melt instead of my stomach rumble in displeasure (though it could have been because I was hungry. OR because I hated the bike… one of the two). Expensive doesn’t mean totally awesome when it comes to comfort, but I can’t let go of this dream bike, even when I have something I’ll love within my grasp.
But why am I being so silly about the way my bike looks? Hero George has the IM 800 and I don’t remember thinking his bike was ugly. Of course, George is so fast he could have just been a blue streak whizzing past me. And didn’t I learn in college that hot guys were way more likely to be dumb or not funny than the average or dorky looking ones? I am SOO over being shallow, and shouldn’t it be easier with an inanimate object than a person? Well yes, in theory.
Lists help me sort shit out.
Here are my problems with the bike:
* It’s unattractive and I identify with my transportation aides: my truck, my current Felt, my Mizunos
* It has 650c wheels, and while I’m all about accelerating/decelerating faster, they’re not standard
* It’s the same year as the bike I’m riding now since I bought Big Hoss at the beginning of the 2005 model year
* It’s a Cannondale
* It only has one place for a water bottle cage and I don’t like the ass grabbing seat stem water bottle holders
* It’s ugly
* It’s an Ironman® product, which isn’t my style (I think it’s borderline pretentious, especially because I’m slow)
* It’s $1000 less than I wanted to spend (and $950 less than the S22) so its components aren’t as nice… not that I could tell, but still
* It’s ugly as shit
Here’s what I like:
* It’s the most comfortable bike I've test rode by a loooooong shot
* It has Carbon Stryke aerobars, which I wanted to put on my bike anyway
* It’s a tri bike! I’m so grown up!
* It feels like half the weight of my last bike when really it’s only 4-6 lbs lighter
* It’s inexpensive enough that I can justify the $200 new tri cycling shoes I just bought
* It’s aluminum
* If I ever buy racing wheels in the future, they’ll be cheaper for 650s than 700s
Here’s what I like about the imaginary S22:
* It’s a brand I love
* It’s gorgeous
* It has nicer components
* It has 700c wheels on the 52 frame
* It has 11-23 freewheel versus 12-23, so the jumps in gears are slightly more noticeable
* It's also a tri bike
* It’s also aluminum
* I’ve been yearning for it since I first laid eyes on it last year
And what I don’t like:
* It’s punch-in-the-gut expensive for me
* I don’t know what size frame I need since my current 54 is too big but the 50 seems small
* It doesn’t have Profile Design handlebars, and I really like them because you can adjust them so much
* Again, only one water bottle cage spot on the frame
* IT’S NOT IN THE CITY OF HOUSTON
The obvious solution to my problem is to drive to Dallas and buy the bike I love. Oh wait, no. The obvious solution is to wait 3-6 weeks for the new S22s to hit Houston. When it’s so close to potential elation, why not wait? Well, the most obvious reason is Ironman Wisconsin. I have my longest ride this weekend and a (hilly!) 60-80 miler next weekend, so the timing is just right to get a new bike tested out and adjusted before the race; waiting any longer could spell disaster. So why not wait until after IM WI and buy it? Because of--hopefully--law school. IM Arizona will be my last full one til post-law school, and who knows when I’ll fit the next IM in since I see marriage not so far down the road. If I get a new bike, it has to be this week or not til I’m a rich and joyless lawyer. Another reason to not wait is that the price of the S22 has been increasing from year to year, and in September my $2600 ceiling will not be high enough to accommodate it. If I can’t afford it later, why wait? Finally, what if I wait to try this bike and I don't like it? What then? All my patience will be for naught and I'll still be buying the Cannondale.
If I get my way, however, Big Hoss shall not be taken to Wisconsin.
I was supposed to go purchase the Cannondale on Tuesday, but I couldn’t get there because of a fun (sarcastic fun) hill workout and spinning afterward. Tonight I’m doing my last long run (hooray!), so I can’t afford the time to jet to the bike shop. Tomorrow, however, I will have ample opportunity to choose reality over my dream. I don’t know what to do and time is running out! Any suggestions?
I went shopping all weekend after weeks of comparing prices, specs, and materials online. What I found was that August is a bad time to buy a bike if you ride a 52. Why? Because the new model year comes out in September and the bike you’ve been lusting after for the past two years won’t be available in any bike shop in the entire city. Or something.
But despite that, I found a bike I love. I rode more expensive bikes and made bitter beer faces while doing so. This lovable bike, while from a brand I don’t like and a line I downright despise, felt like it was made for me. And it was $1000 less than my budget! Sounds like a dream, right?
NO. It just so happens that the 2005 Cannondale Ironman 800 (only in blue) is the ugliest bike I’ve laid eyes on. It’s way nastier than the bike about which I’ve been dreaming for all these long months: the Felt S22. Never mind I can’t find an S22 to test ride to save my life, and that it’s very likely I won’t like it. What do I know about what I like? Before last weekend would have guessed that the Cervélo I rode would have made my heart melt instead of my stomach rumble in displeasure (though it could have been because I was hungry. OR because I hated the bike… one of the two). Expensive doesn’t mean totally awesome when it comes to comfort, but I can’t let go of this dream bike, even when I have something I’ll love within my grasp.
But why am I being so silly about the way my bike looks? Hero George has the IM 800 and I don’t remember thinking his bike was ugly. Of course, George is so fast he could have just been a blue streak whizzing past me. And didn’t I learn in college that hot guys were way more likely to be dumb or not funny than the average or dorky looking ones? I am SOO over being shallow, and shouldn’t it be easier with an inanimate object than a person? Well yes, in theory.
Lists help me sort shit out.
Here are my problems with the bike:
* It’s unattractive and I identify with my transportation aides: my truck, my current Felt, my Mizunos
* It has 650c wheels, and while I’m all about accelerating/decelerating faster, they’re not standard
* It’s the same year as the bike I’m riding now since I bought Big Hoss at the beginning of the 2005 model year
* It’s a Cannondale
* It only has one place for a water bottle cage and I don’t like the ass grabbing seat stem water bottle holders
* It’s ugly
* It’s an Ironman® product, which isn’t my style (I think it’s borderline pretentious, especially because I’m slow)
* It’s $1000 less than I wanted to spend (and $950 less than the S22) so its components aren’t as nice… not that I could tell, but still
* It’s ugly as shit
Here’s what I like:
* It’s the most comfortable bike I've test rode by a loooooong shot
* It has Carbon Stryke aerobars, which I wanted to put on my bike anyway
* It’s a tri bike! I’m so grown up!
* It feels like half the weight of my last bike when really it’s only 4-6 lbs lighter
* It’s inexpensive enough that I can justify the $200 new tri cycling shoes I just bought
* It’s aluminum
* If I ever buy racing wheels in the future, they’ll be cheaper for 650s than 700s
Here’s what I like about the imaginary S22:
* It’s a brand I love
* It’s gorgeous
* It has nicer components
* It has 700c wheels on the 52 frame
* It has 11-23 freewheel versus 12-23, so the jumps in gears are slightly more noticeable
* It's also a tri bike
* It’s also aluminum
* I’ve been yearning for it since I first laid eyes on it last year
And what I don’t like:
* It’s punch-in-the-gut expensive for me
* I don’t know what size frame I need since my current 54 is too big but the 50 seems small
* It doesn’t have Profile Design handlebars, and I really like them because you can adjust them so much
* Again, only one water bottle cage spot on the frame
* IT’S NOT IN THE CITY OF HOUSTON
The obvious solution to my problem is to drive to Dallas and buy the bike I love. Oh wait, no. The obvious solution is to wait 3-6 weeks for the new S22s to hit Houston. When it’s so close to potential elation, why not wait? Well, the most obvious reason is Ironman Wisconsin. I have my longest ride this weekend and a (hilly!) 60-80 miler next weekend, so the timing is just right to get a new bike tested out and adjusted before the race; waiting any longer could spell disaster. So why not wait until after IM WI and buy it? Because of--hopefully--law school. IM Arizona will be my last full one til post-law school, and who knows when I’ll fit the next IM in since I see marriage not so far down the road. If I get a new bike, it has to be this week or not til I’m a rich and joyless lawyer. Another reason to not wait is that the price of the S22 has been increasing from year to year, and in September my $2600 ceiling will not be high enough to accommodate it. If I can’t afford it later, why wait? Finally, what if I wait to try this bike and I don't like it? What then? All my patience will be for naught and I'll still be buying the Cannondale.
If I get my way, however, Big Hoss shall not be taken to Wisconsin.
I was supposed to go purchase the Cannondale on Tuesday, but I couldn’t get there because of a fun (sarcastic fun) hill workout and spinning afterward. Tonight I’m doing my last long run (hooray!), so I can’t afford the time to jet to the bike shop. Tomorrow, however, I will have ample opportunity to choose reality over my dream. I don’t know what to do and time is running out! Any suggestions?
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Insult to injury
I’m not sure if you’re supposed to learn something on every key training session, but I seem to. Two weeks ago I learned you’re not supposed to wear underwear with your cycling shorts (honestly, how are you supposed to learn that if no one pulls you aside and tells you?). Last week I learned that running 17+ on the treadmill is like running 10 miles outside in August. The past week I’ve picked up even more.
Sunday I was scheduled to do a 90 mile ride. This would be my first ride that I did completely alone, but I figured it was basically just like riding with people who’d dropped me a few miles in (which would basically be anyone capable of riding 90 miles). I didn’t put enough long rides in on my actual bike for Arizona, and I’ve been determined to not allow myself to do the same for Wisconsin. Anyway, the plan was to do the 59 mile Ironstar half IM course, then ride to Richards and back, a 33 mile addition. The ride went pretty well despite the fatigue in my legs from my long run two days before. The course, which I’d ridden 2 of the past 3 weeks, is a simple loop with some rolling hills. Despite my familiarity with the course, near the end of the loop I made a wrong turn and added about 3 miles to the trip. Oops! No biggie, I thought. After I finished the loop, I started the out and back portion of the ride. It was getting hot since I hadn’t started til 8:30, but I was hanging in there because I had so little left to do. Finally, I finished the out and back and turned to head back home.
...except I turned down the wrong street. The last time I’d added to the course I’d missed the safer turnoff to home and had to ride on a major road for a mile or two extra. It was very nerve-wracking, and I was determined to not pass my safe journey home. Unfortunately, in my zeal to avoid said turn I took a wrong one 0.1 miles early. I realized I’d made a mistake when I was about 3 miles out—about the time I ate my last Clif Blok and ran out of water. Fuck. I turned around, got on the right road, and crawled home. All told I spent about a half hour without food and water, which might have been a little more comfortable if it hadn’t been in the 2:00 PM hour. By the time I got back to my car I was in no mood to do a run-- after all, I'd added over 9 miles to my intended ride--so I packed up, drove home, and took a cool shower.
What did I learn in all this? A lesson I should have known months ago: always bring enough hydration/nutrition. It’s worth it to have an extra water bottle or gel with you at the end of the ride in case something unexpected happens--like, for example, getting lost twice. All of this is especially ridiculous because I did stop to buy some water (and a Coke...I was craving one, and it probably kept me from running out of food even earlier) at mile 40. Next time I guess I’ll buy two bottles. :-(
Fast forward to last night. After my wild success doing my long run on a treadmill last week I was planning on doing it again this week. The plan: 18.5 miles, one Clif Shot electrolyte drink, 2 GUs, a bag of Bloks, and an iPod. I also decided to try out my new sports bra and shorts I bought during tax free weekend last Friday. I was a little nervous about the long run since I’d rolled my ankle doing hills on Tuesday night, but figured I could stop if it really bothered me. Well, the run went great—I felt good til mile 17, had no GI troubles, and was pretty jazzed about what music came up on my shuffled playlist. My ankle also felt just fine, at least while I was running.
When I finished my run I stretched, wiped down my ‘mill, then headed to the shower. That’s when I found the largest and nastiest chafe mark on my chest that I’ve had in recent history. So much for my new awesome bra! In addition, the cut on my stubbed toe (I closed it in a sliding closet door on Monday and proceeded to bleed all over the bathroom… gross, huh?) was also aching and swollen, along with my rolled ankle. I was falling apart.
I went home and was fretting about all these non-injury afflictions to my boyfriend, to which he responded, “yeah but it beats a torn ACL.” Eh, I guess. Still, in an ideal world it would be quite wonderful to stay properly hydrated, unchafed, and avoid stubbing one’s toes (which I've done twice in a week).
I’m pretty stoked for the next month and can hardly believe my race is just 31 short days away. I only have three long rides and one long run left! The end is near and very very bright… so long as I can avoid rubbing off my skin or hitting my clunky toes on nearby objects. Train and learn, right?
Sunday I was scheduled to do a 90 mile ride. This would be my first ride that I did completely alone, but I figured it was basically just like riding with people who’d dropped me a few miles in (which would basically be anyone capable of riding 90 miles). I didn’t put enough long rides in on my actual bike for Arizona, and I’ve been determined to not allow myself to do the same for Wisconsin. Anyway, the plan was to do the 59 mile Ironstar half IM course, then ride to Richards and back, a 33 mile addition. The ride went pretty well despite the fatigue in my legs from my long run two days before. The course, which I’d ridden 2 of the past 3 weeks, is a simple loop with some rolling hills. Despite my familiarity with the course, near the end of the loop I made a wrong turn and added about 3 miles to the trip. Oops! No biggie, I thought. After I finished the loop, I started the out and back portion of the ride. It was getting hot since I hadn’t started til 8:30, but I was hanging in there because I had so little left to do. Finally, I finished the out and back and turned to head back home.
...except I turned down the wrong street. The last time I’d added to the course I’d missed the safer turnoff to home and had to ride on a major road for a mile or two extra. It was very nerve-wracking, and I was determined to not pass my safe journey home. Unfortunately, in my zeal to avoid said turn I took a wrong one 0.1 miles early. I realized I’d made a mistake when I was about 3 miles out—about the time I ate my last Clif Blok and ran out of water. Fuck. I turned around, got on the right road, and crawled home. All told I spent about a half hour without food and water, which might have been a little more comfortable if it hadn’t been in the 2:00 PM hour. By the time I got back to my car I was in no mood to do a run-- after all, I'd added over 9 miles to my intended ride--so I packed up, drove home, and took a cool shower.
What did I learn in all this? A lesson I should have known months ago: always bring enough hydration/nutrition. It’s worth it to have an extra water bottle or gel with you at the end of the ride in case something unexpected happens--like, for example, getting lost twice. All of this is especially ridiculous because I did stop to buy some water (and a Coke...I was craving one, and it probably kept me from running out of food even earlier) at mile 40. Next time I guess I’ll buy two bottles. :-(
Fast forward to last night. After my wild success doing my long run on a treadmill last week I was planning on doing it again this week. The plan: 18.5 miles, one Clif Shot electrolyte drink, 2 GUs, a bag of Bloks, and an iPod. I also decided to try out my new sports bra and shorts I bought during tax free weekend last Friday. I was a little nervous about the long run since I’d rolled my ankle doing hills on Tuesday night, but figured I could stop if it really bothered me. Well, the run went great—I felt good til mile 17, had no GI troubles, and was pretty jazzed about what music came up on my shuffled playlist. My ankle also felt just fine, at least while I was running.
When I finished my run I stretched, wiped down my ‘mill, then headed to the shower. That’s when I found the largest and nastiest chafe mark on my chest that I’ve had in recent history. So much for my new awesome bra! In addition, the cut on my stubbed toe (I closed it in a sliding closet door on Monday and proceeded to bleed all over the bathroom… gross, huh?) was also aching and swollen, along with my rolled ankle. I was falling apart.
I went home and was fretting about all these non-injury afflictions to my boyfriend, to which he responded, “yeah but it beats a torn ACL.” Eh, I guess. Still, in an ideal world it would be quite wonderful to stay properly hydrated, unchafed, and avoid stubbing one’s toes (which I've done twice in a week).
I’m pretty stoked for the next month and can hardly believe my race is just 31 short days away. I only have three long rides and one long run left! The end is near and very very bright… so long as I can avoid rubbing off my skin or hitting my clunky toes on nearby objects. Train and learn, right?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
I used to think I was at least part-time awesome
Now I know better. Waaay better.
There are only 4 people from Houston doing Ironman Wisconsin. 4! I thought folks were scared of hills and only the baddest of asses would race on terrain they have 0 access to. Now that it’s August, I realize that the reason so few H-towners hit up Madison is because it feels nearly impossible to train in 100+ heat every day. Who knew? At least I can kind of chalk up my stupidity to the fact I was living in Ohio when I signed up and simply forgot I was returning to my hotcake city in a few weeks. Live and learn I guess.
But yeah, it’s really hot. I reserve the right to complain this summer since it’s my first full one in Houston, but I’ll have to stop soon since it’s SO hot that no one even complains about it. Last night when I rolled up to the high school to do my intervals at 6:45 it was 97 with the heat index. “What is wrong with me?” I thought as I got out of my sweet air conditioned truck. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing that was wrong with the group of ~20 Houston Fit folks already doing intervals. It’s miserable for everyone, not just me… and yet, lots of people are out busting their hineys to get in workouts in the great outdoors. It’s rather inspiring.
But running a few intervals for a fall marathon and riding 95 miles in the middle of the day are a little different. One is tough. The other is ignorant. I’m never doing IM Wisconsin again simply because training for a September race on the gulf coast is too much for my blood (and my electrolyte balance). That said, the calendar turn has really been as wonderfully motivating as I imagined in July. It sorta doesn’t make sense to me--why does it get progressively easier to train for a race when what your body goes through gets harder? Maybe that’s a sign I’m in the right sport despite disliking biking (by the way, why don’t people question why non-swimmers are triathletes? They still only like 2 sports, same as me. I’m minorly offended every time someone questions my reasons for triathleting) (no, triathleting is not a word). As a comparison, I hate training for marathons and have yet to put in more than 4 weeks for one--my first--yet months of IM training comes with only a little self-prodding. I will say part of the problem with marathons is that now that I’ve done an ironman I mentally can’t commit to *just* running 26.2. Dude, not only am I a dumbass--I’m also a snob. Oh, and anything but awesome.
(By the way, I can't chew gum when I run. It makes me violently gastrointenstinally "stressed" afterward. Just wanted to share. :-)
There are only 4 people from Houston doing Ironman Wisconsin. 4! I thought folks were scared of hills and only the baddest of asses would race on terrain they have 0 access to. Now that it’s August, I realize that the reason so few H-towners hit up Madison is because it feels nearly impossible to train in 100+ heat every day. Who knew? At least I can kind of chalk up my stupidity to the fact I was living in Ohio when I signed up and simply forgot I was returning to my hotcake city in a few weeks. Live and learn I guess.
But yeah, it’s really hot. I reserve the right to complain this summer since it’s my first full one in Houston, but I’ll have to stop soon since it’s SO hot that no one even complains about it. Last night when I rolled up to the high school to do my intervals at 6:45 it was 97 with the heat index. “What is wrong with me?” I thought as I got out of my sweet air conditioned truck. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing that was wrong with the group of ~20 Houston Fit folks already doing intervals. It’s miserable for everyone, not just me… and yet, lots of people are out busting their hineys to get in workouts in the great outdoors. It’s rather inspiring.
But running a few intervals for a fall marathon and riding 95 miles in the middle of the day are a little different. One is tough. The other is ignorant. I’m never doing IM Wisconsin again simply because training for a September race on the gulf coast is too much for my blood (and my electrolyte balance). That said, the calendar turn has really been as wonderfully motivating as I imagined in July. It sorta doesn’t make sense to me--why does it get progressively easier to train for a race when what your body goes through gets harder? Maybe that’s a sign I’m in the right sport despite disliking biking (by the way, why don’t people question why non-swimmers are triathletes? They still only like 2 sports, same as me. I’m minorly offended every time someone questions my reasons for triathleting) (no, triathleting is not a word). As a comparison, I hate training for marathons and have yet to put in more than 4 weeks for one--my first--yet months of IM training comes with only a little self-prodding. I will say part of the problem with marathons is that now that I’ve done an ironman I mentally can’t commit to *just* running 26.2. Dude, not only am I a dumbass--I’m also a snob. Oh, and anything but awesome.
(By the way, I can't chew gum when I run. It makes me violently gastrointenstinally "stressed" afterward. Just wanted to share. :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
