This post is basically a comment on a comment I made to a recent IronMin post. But the comment got too long to really be a comment so now it's a post of it's own. Got it?
First, I think you're foolish to actually ride the IM bike course again. Personally, I'm going back to my old mantra, "There's nothing wrong with fat, dumb, and happy". Why torture yourself, make yourself completely miserable, let self doubt creep in, all that? Not worth it, not worth it at all. Do everything possible to rid the memory of that ride from your mind. If nothing else works, try alcohol, copious amounts of alcohol.
Second, I rescind any offers made to ride the IM bike course. See reason above referencing fat, dumb, and happy. I have no desire to ride the course, I will not be your Huckleberry. I'm finding a nice flat bike trail, something lined with wildflowers and butterflies, going to trade in wilson for a beach cruiser type bike with a cushy seat, a horn, and a basket.
Why the change of heart one might ask? A hill, one single solitary stupid hill.
The above is exactly what my thought process was as I was attempting to climb said hill and shortly thereafter. Those thoughts are diminishing, but they have not completely left me.
Let's backtrack. Inspired by Min's recent ride on the IM bike loop, I decided to extend my ride home from work by taking the IM leg out towards Verona before turning around and heading home. So I headed out Rimrock, left on whatever, right on whatever, right on whatever, left on whatever, and finally right onto Whalen. I'm not real good with names, or caring right about now.
For whatever reason the first hill on Whalen west of Fish Hatchery (going west) absolutely kicked my ass. I think there may have been a slight wind in my face, but I also felt like it was in my face when I turned around and headed east. I just don't know. And I just don't know what it was about that hill, but it left me with no desire to see the rest of the course.
I made it another couple of miles down Whalen before turning south to M and heading back towards Stoughton. The rest of the ride was uneventful. My detour stretched out what is normally a 15-mile commute to a 32-mile trek. Closer to Stoughton I got blown by like I was standing still by a guy on a tri-bike with tree trunks for legs. For about a 1/2 second I thought I would try to stick with him, twas not to be. He was out of site in a relatively flat area within minutes.
Give me a couple days and I may be back to being willing, but for now, fat, dumb, and happy is looking pretty attractive.
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4 comments:
I would have to agree 100%, but I would add a piece to the training. I would concentrate on downhills only -- maybe work the downhill and then walk back up to get in even more work.
Sometimes I love the fat, dumb, and happy...
I cracked up when reading this post. Believe me - I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you...through my tears. That course SUCKS, but now that I know you have ridden part of it you are not getting off the hook that easy...if you won't be my huckleberry, then I'll be yours instead and we are going to puke up those hills some Sunday afternoon.
I think it will be much more fun to ride with someone else - someone who can enjoy the onslaught of expletives exchanged as we climb YET ANOTHER HILL. All of my current cursing is wasted on the wind. And some of it is top-notch stuff, carefully crafted through the pain of screaming quads.
The bad memories of the ride will fade in time...(I am clinging to that hope for dear life)
Too funny, both of you. Wilson and I had a long talk on the way back to work this morning. I think we'll be ok. He's getting a new cassette. I'm clearly not ready for the 11-23 on there now. Then maybe...
It's going be a long day with him parked in my office and the sun shining like it is. Focus.
I laughed with you on this one as well. Granted, I've only done a sprint-tri and half-marathon. when we did the sprint a few years ago at Devil's Lake we went up every weekend and rode the course. That first hill is a complete byotch, and we really suffered riding it. Our joke was that we were "crying and puking, puking and crying" (maybe some of the first and last, but really none of the middle, except maybe the occassional vurp).
When we first did it, we couldn't ride the whole way up that hill. As the successive weeks went by, we were more and more successful. It was very motivating.
I'm not going to attempt to extrapolate 15 miles to 115, yet I've always been a person who would rather know the most painful truth than the most pleasant lie, although forays into the lie are pleasant for a while.
I wish you the best on your training. You, with others, are inspiring me to see what I can get this body to do!
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