I didn’t go to the start line of the Almanzo yesterday. I’m ok with my decision if I think about it rationally, but the emotional parts of me are angry, frustrated, exhausted, and incredibly sad.
The last week or two have been a whirlwind, but in a GOOD way. I’m piling on the training hours and I’ve published the draft Alexander route!
I’ve been quiet lately. Quiet enough that my dad messaged me and asked what was up, quiet enough that a friend and non-cyclist asked why I haven’t blogged lately. This post is a stream of consciousness tale of how things have been going. On the surface, it may seem pessimistic but the good news is I’ve managed some level of balance and kept all of the really important, most time-critical things going.
I was motoring along steadily on the trainer like the diesel I am, and suddenly my power output dropped to 100 watts. I slammed on a few more gears and cranked hard. The power numbers barely rose and I watched my virtual teammates speed away. Well, I thought, if I keel over on my bike at least those that know me knew I’d die happy.
18 months after lumbar spinal fusion, I finally feel like I’m on a steady upward trend. More miles, weight loss, and I’m hosting group rides again!
I went into this week not knowing how the Jesse James 100 miler would go. I was out of town again for a decent portion of the week, and I’ve learned that work trips are hell on my back. My nerves were frazzled this morning, that’s for sure.
Last weekend I decided that I should go on my former normal Saturday morning group ride and try to get over my fears. It had been months since I had gone. The last time I went, I hammered to stay attached, got dropped, and ended up with back spasms. Not good. How did it go this time?
I’m scared of riding right now. If I’m too busy to ride, I don’t have to test my body. If I don’t test my body, I don’t have to know whether I’m too broken.
Somehow I managed to have one of my worst rides, and one of my best rides, all within a span of a few days. The second ride got me into the blissful state of “flow” and I forgot just how good that could be.
A group of 9 intrepid cyclists headed out in the extreme heat to tackle riding 300 miles across Northern Iowa in under 24 hours. Did we make it?