A 2010 Top 5 with a Bonus #6

It's been a pretty good year. It was punctuated with some shitty parts too, no doubt. Some REAL shitty parts. But it's December 31st and in the end, things are finishing on a higher note and the final balance weighs in favour of the GOOD rather than the EVIL. 

Since at this time of the year everyone seems to be popping off their top 5 something-or-other lists, I might as well be cliche and join the club. And this will come as a big surprise: 4/5 things are about biking. In Chronological order:

1. The Madone zone: 

Nothing can come between a girl and her bicycle. My mail-order husband -- ordered in January -- took all of about 3 weeks to come in. It was love at first sight. My love for my bike even inspired a shot gun wedding ceremony. I guess I gushed about my bike. A lot. Such is my way.  And now Mr. Madone, aka "Kermit" and I have been through many a trial together. Several thousand kilometres worth, through Kenora, Calgary, Canmore, he even kept me hanging on the back in the South of Manitoba for that sub-6 200 km.  Nope, I didn't have anything to do with all that. It was all the bike. There was one frightening moment when he refused to get on the airplane in Phoenix and went galavanting without me for two days. I wondered if I would ever see him again. But all's well that ends well, as the bard once said. It has been a happy relationship and I look forward to many more years of ride and rider. 

2. Mount Lemmon:

On the list of the top 50 rides to do before you die, I have one checkmark. "Mount Lemmon is like dying. It's just something you have to do alone." The whole Tucson trip in itself was fabulous. It feels like it was a million years ago and belongs in another lifetime. It practically does belong to another lifetime. I'm not sure what moment lives more special in my mind: Steak done to perfection at the Hacienda del Sol; Lasagna a la Krauss at the Ranch; or guzzling mountain run-off at mile 16 on Mt. Lemmon. Best tasting water, EVER, and thankfully, on that day, free of parasites. 

Michael Krauss points out Mt. Lemmon in the background. Me, Jim, Sean.

3. A Reuniting:

Of all things ridiculous about Facebook, once and a while it pulls out a miracle. (Yes, I am on there too much and I'm not leaving -- although one day, if I ever get a life, I will be on there LESS.) I got a friend request back sometime in June or July from the guy I would describe as one of my "first loves." I fell in love with bike boys at the age of 15 because of this guy.  It has been fun re-getting to know Dean these last few months. He lives far away but we've had some good chats and one brief visit at the end of August. I think I've inspired him to get back on a bike after about 8 years away. Dean, I can't wait for you to drop my ass flat next year with us both on road bikes. Can't wait. It's good to have you back in my life. 

4. The Golden Triangle:

The most beautiful, the most painful, the most soul cleansing ride of my life. It expanded my lungs and the size of my rib cage. It claimed both my legs as a victim and at certain moments, it claimed my sanity too. It also claimed my phone. Oh well, I got a new one. Guy and Wayne were good company and good sports to allow me to butt in on their male bonding ride. What can I say. Everything about that entire time I spent out West in Calgary and the highways of Banff, Yoho, and Kootanay National Parks was about peace and contentment. A much needed way to end the training season and move on to the season of fun. 

5. Cyclocross Everything:

When I showed up at Menno Cross barely knowing, the two weeks before, that cyclocross existed, I had no idea it would quickly become the love affair of the year. There I was, loaner bike in hand -- a bike I thought I'd have for ONE race only, but thanks to some clever race avoidance tactics by my bicycle benefactor, turned into a season long affair. I had no mount or dismount skills (Cross labs? When were those?) and about to navigate mud puddles and bunkers and rock beds. If you check out the link to Menno, there is a short video of the race and a nice shot of me doing some sketchy riding through a puddle (depths and bottom condition unknown). I'm the one covered in mud in case you don't recognize me right away. It was riding like I had never seen before. I couldn't wait till that bloody race was OVER and then when it WAS over I couldn't wait to go again. And go again I did, six more times, and each was better than the last. And the post pain amnesia set in faster and faster. I saw my life flash before my eyes on the hilly beast out in Altona -- I carried that fear with me all the way through the Whittier race. It didn't leave until I raced incognito and in the mud once again out at Harbour View. I was just finding my cross legs by Provincials and then it was done. I can't wait to go again. When's the next race? When is it? Huh? Huh? When? What do you mean I HAVE TO WAIT!?

And a bonus:

And this one isn't about me. It's just something that puts a smile on my face and gives me hope. My friend Terri, I would have to say outdoes, even me, in terms of the amount of time she's spent in the land of the cynics when it comes to relationships. I've never in my life heard anyone come up with more excuses to avoid relationships than this girl. And in all fairness, she has some pretty good reasons to be avoidant. So good, in fact, that she has said to me recently upon reading my admission that I steal from my friends lives when I write fiction, that she fully expects me to steal from hers one day and maybe she should STOP telling me crap....... then I reminded her that I steal but I also F&*K with it (you know, remove all the serial numbers, give it an new paint job, and crap like that) so she'll likely never even realize. 

I almost didn't send the message I sent. You know that message Terri? The one I sent asking you who the heck that Darryl guy was who was always flirting with you incessantly all over your facebook status comments?  Yes that one. I almost didn't send it because I had given up asking Terri such questions because her excuses were so LAME that I didn't want to hear another. 

Her reply was: "Darryl is the ex that I shouldn't have chased away. But just friends. And soulmates. But friends. :)"

[That's a cut and paste job, by the way. So no f'ing with Terri's life there.]

"Soulmates."

"Just friends."

That doesn't even MAKE ANY F'ING SENSE, TERRI!

That was my internal reaction. I was much politer in my message back. To make a long story short it was a faith issue, really. Faith is really important to Terri. So not really knowing what it meant to "have faith" (I'm the one, you know, when I step into a church the walls start caving in around me and lighting bolts of death start shooting from the sky -- that's a genetic problem by the way. My father has the same problem) I asked a few key questions and made Terri think about what that meant. What does it REALLY mean to have faith in God? And how do you know -- how DO you know -- that just because someone doesn't buy into organized religion that they don't have FAITH?

Anyways, it was a naive question and a very philosophical conversation ensued and Terri gave Darryl a chance and I'd like to think I had something to do with that maybe? No? For the most part things were already tumbling down that inevitable path for Terri anyway. But it is true that other people's relationships are clearly viewed with happy endings all in place in my crystal ball. It's my own relationships that are confused jumbled blurry messes. 

Terri is a really happy woman right now and I, in turn, am very happy for her. Good thing there are do-overs in love. Sometimes. 

Oh well, for me there is always 2011.

It's been a good year. I have plans for next year. They are shaping up nicely.

Happy New Year everyone. Thanks for reading. Now please be entertained by evidence of my lack of a life by a handpicked selection of a year of Facebook status's. 

They're Looking at Your Socks

You think they're not looking at your socks? he asked. I nodded gravely. They're looking at your socks, we said in unison. 

That's a quote from one of my favourite books, A Complicated Kindness, by Miriam Toews.

And, of course, I'm NOT writing about socks. I'm never just writing about what it appears I'm writing about. I told you that already.

The quote reminds me a little of how I feel about blogging some days. You never really know who's looking or what secret thoughts they are having about your "socks."

I think I am fairly safe in saying that all of us who write blogs have a little nagging wonder about who the hell is reading our crap spewings anyway. No?

Which makes me wonder, why the hell do I do this anyway? Why do I put myself out there like this? It is a full-on public forum after all. Anyone can look. Blogging is like literary voyeurism. Well, except without the sex part....

......Maybe.

Or maybe blogging is actually literary exhibitionism? Get a little half-undressed in public and see if anyone notices?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately as it has come more and more into my awareness that people are actually reading this garbage. I started my blog as a way of dealing with my my post-divorce identity (still haven't figured that out yet) and perhaps with the hope of having others read and say, "Yeah, I've been there too."

I actually own this magnet. Fitting. Or at least, at one time, it was.

And occasionally people take the time to tell me they relate to what I say.  I've had some really nice emails from people saying some really serious things that they wouldn't dare say publicly in a comment where they would prefer to maintain a persona of "light and fluffy" (I've done the same, by the way).

I end up writing about biking a lot because that's what I use to distract myself from the sucky parts of life. So I write about two very different things with likely two very different audiences (touch of overlap here and there maybe??). I don't know. I never thought anyone would ACTUALLY read.  I just kinda hoped they might.

I've thought about separating the subjects into two different blogs but . . . . . .  I don't really want to.

And I'm pretty reflective and serious at moments in this forum. It's really hard to write funny and fluffy, as I recently discovered, so I don't try often. I get a far bigger kick out of ironic humour than HA-HA humour, anyhow. I'll happily comment light and fluffy on your blog though, although even then I'm usually holding back and trying to masque how deeply, DEEPLY, penetrated my mind is in the gutter. The real-life me is famous for cracking some inappropriate black-humored or off-coloured joke at exactly the wrong moment.

Or maybe the "real-life" me just says what everyone else is thinking?

Anyways. In terms of the biking crap, sometimes I feel I write about biking from the perspective of someone who's walked into the room half way through the conversation and is trying to sound like an authority. I really don't know what the hell I'm talking about because I don't know the history. I'll probably write excitedly about something because I've just discovered it, in the meantime all the veterans are rolling their eyes at my "old news."

Just humour me, 'kay. I'll grow up eventually.

Mostly, though, I blog because I like to write. I'm a pretty good writer, I think. Although my style may not be for everyone. I just like to write about what is burning a fire in my gut at the moment.

And RANT a little.

Or A LOT.

But given that writing kinda sustains me, I end up feeling pretty vulnerable about anything I spew out. That's hard for me to deal with some days.

Literary exhibitionism. Hmmmmm. Notice I said "half-undressed" above, eh. It's always most exciting the moment before the last item comes off.

Maybe I'm just intimidated by all my more experienced biker blogging friends who I have come to revere and feel inspired by and I think DO know what they are talking about?

Maybe I should just stop obsessing about the whole damn thing?

It's a chicken or egg, kinda thing isn't it? Do I write because I over think? Or do I over think because I write?

Meh. Mostly I write for me.

Gearhead

I lifted the photo from the ProBikeKit Facebook page. It is a nice little piece of art in addition to being a schooling for me.  I've already talked about how useless I am when it comes to bike components so that even simple things like knowing how aggressive I can get with those components when cleaning my bikes makes me nervous.

The other day a friend, who I know reads my blog, forwarded me this link about how to clean your bike in 10 minutes from Bicycling Magazine -- the mag for everything a lay person (and mechanical idiot) should want or need to know about biking, or so you would think. I scanned it with interest until point #4 which told me to "remove rear derailleur housing" and then I was done with that article because that was the most useless thing you could ask me to do. I'd have to stare at my bike for about 10 minutes just to figure out what might be the "derailleur housing." The bike still wouldn't get clean.

Actually I could stare at my bike all day and still not know what that is exactly.

I get a little better every year though so I will get there. I listen. I learn. I take people's unsolicited advice -- usually. The understanding isn't instantaneous and I don't know what I don't know so I fail to ask questions that I probably should. I'm a strong believer in learning from my own mistakes. I ended up with a bike too big for me because I didn't know what to ask. I loved that Devinci. It was pretty and orange and I wanted it and they didn't have a size small. So I was sat on a medium (not at Alter but at another bike shop in the city -- also a good bike shop) and told to put my hands on the drops, bend my elbows 90 degrees and, could I see the hub?

Uh, No. I said. I didn't know what "the hub" was, at the time. I thought "the hub" was something other than what it really was.

OK, then it fits. I was told. Well, it didn't really fit I quickly discovered. Lesson learnt. But what did I know. Nothing.

When I was going through the experience of creating my Project ONE a year ago, I had test rode another slightly lower model Madone that was in the store and Dave told me I would have basically two choices of shifting systems that would fit best with my price range Ultegra or SRAM. And he did his best to explain the difference to me and I'm sure I stood there blinking with big eyes and a "deer in the headlights look." A look, I am sure, Dave is very familiar with by now, coming from me -- it doesn't stop him from at least trying to teach me, though.

Although not long ago I went in the store to get chain lube (owned bikes for 2.5 years, I just bought my own chain lube .....sad...sad....) and he says to me, "You want a low viscosity lube?"

ME: I don't know. Sure?

HIM: Yes, yes you do.

ME: Whatever you say.

And that is kind of a standard bike shop visit for me.

But I digress from my shifting story......

So I mocked up my Project ONE and emailed it off to Dave with the explanation that I was counting on him to tell me if I was making any bad choices. I chose Ultegra, I guess, (Ultegra SL, apparently -- whatever that means) and that's what I have. I'd never tried SRAM at that time and I guess I gravitated to the familiar, and a lower price tag, but I have tried SRAM now and if I could go back and do it again, I would pick that instead. That's about the only thing I would change of the choices I made in ignorance a year ago. I was trying to keep costs down because, as it was, I spent about $1000 more than I intended to.

But it's all just a matter of preference, I suppose. The Ultegra is fine, actually. It's great. I haven't had a single problem with it. I had Shimano 105 before that and it was constantly causing me trouble.

So imagine how lost I am feeling right now knowing that the next time I make a big bike related toy purchase it will be wheels -- which is item #2 on Kim's covet list. I had considered getting race wheels when I originally built my Madone but, again, the costs were already mounting so I opted to just wait.

So I'm thinking about wheels now and I should be doing some research but I don't even know what to research. I'm trying not to have a price tag in my head because I know I'll throw the price tag out the window if I find something I like the "idea" of. I can tell you that I'm not spending $4000 --- $1000 is probably a more reasonable estimate. I said I wanted wheels that were, at the very least, no heavier than what I presently have on the bike. Dave said that would be pretty hard to do because the wheels on my bike now are pretty good wheels.

I'll take his word for it. I have no idea what makes a "pretty good wheel." These are kinda nice looking though (and probably way out of my price range):

Stolen from the Bicycling Facebook Fan Page. Facebook usually isn't good for much more than telling me that everyone is sick right now and getting ready for Christmas, but it does feed me lots of cycling news. 

So I don't know. There is another part of me that says forget getting wheels and go on a trip or something. What do I really NEED them for? Am I even competitive enough to need that? And with all the damn crosswind in this province will they be helpful? I don't know.

So if anyone wants to feed me information about "what I don't know about wheels, etc," feel free. I'll listen. Email me if you'd rather.

I must buy a cyclocross bike for next year and that really is a bigger priority. I suppose I have a few connections that might lend me wheels for the couple important times I might want them.

I never thought I would turn into someone who contemplated this kind of thing. It's only a matter of time before I insist on having a dual suspension mountain bike too so.......... But I'm hoping to be able to wait until one my kids can ride my present mountain bike for that.

Never ending money hole this biking thing is.

But you can't put a price tag on love or freedom.

A Christmas Fantasy

'Twas the night before Christmas, when down the back stairs,

The bikes were all leaning, stacked up in pairs.

The carbon was shiny, top tubes all a glitter,

In hopes that new wheels would join this fine litter.

In my bed I was resting, not a word to be uttered.

Hot cycling butts visioned, mind firmly in gutter.

New Twin Six jersey -- adorned -- what a find!

"Sweetest jersey in the world," Fort Garry, never mind.

This, No?

Or That?

When at my front door, bump thump and whatnot,

Tore my mind from its thoughts of... well... (dot... dot... dot).

A peak through the curtains gave a big fright.

The snow was all gone, it was sunny and bright!

I gave no second thought, I stood in a trance.

Out on my front walk was the man they call Lance!

Wearing fingerless gloves, I took this a sign,

Helmet and shoes and Madone 6.9

Lycra and Shack shorts, Livestrong 28

I knew at that moment, there would be no debate.

He snapped his fine fingers and said, "Let's get going!"

From behind bushes and fences they all came a rolling.

Voigt, Kloden and Sanchez, Hesjedal and Sastre,

Wiggens and Evans, could this group get much faster?

Lance beckoned with finger. I did no more than laugh.

"Come on and get moving. Get in our draft."

So with odd grace and ease, I took to my bike.

Straddle and clip-in and moves of the like.

And low and behold, what's this that I see?

My numbers all tell me our speed's 53!

I move up the ranks. How will I outlast?

I glance at Saint Lance, "I can NOT go this fast!"

"Quit yer whining," says he. "You're not here by luck.

In my peloton you will not wheel suck."

"I brought you out here to have a short chat.

You must get a grip and all this and that.

Enough is enough, from all that I've read.

Why are YOU sleeping alone in that bed?"

I shrug and I shrivel and keep up with the pedal.

"Why do you care? What's up with this meddle?

Where are we going? You disrupted my thoughts!"

That's when off in the prairie I see the gift box.

We pick up the pace. This is way out of whack.

In all this excitement, I've dropped the pack!

"This year we'll be 40. No time to downshift.

I pulled strings and called favours to bring you this gift."

I unwrap the gold bow. I feel a big wreck.

And from out of the box jumps Andy Schleck.

I'm stunned and I'm panting, up shoots my heart rate.

I question Saint Lance, "Isn't he jail bait?"

Saint Lance rolls his eyes, mistletoe in his fingers.

Andy bends down, his kiss simply lingers.

Lance says with a smile, "Here's my message to you."

"Dreams become real. Now I must toodle-loo."

He sprang on his seat in a mount I do envy.

With a wink, smirk, and nod. THAT told me plenty.

And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Merry Christmas Everyone! And Thanks for Reading!

Why I Will NEVER do an Ironman

Feel free to quote me on that, by the way.

Thanks to Jenn H. for alerting me to this. It speaks for itself.
Language warning so... plug your kids ears and careful while at-work-not-really-working.

Crazy Legs

Duathlon in the Park Series May 2010

....... I train? On reflection I think in the past two years I've TRIED to train but failed.

Right now I am training f'ing hard. Harder than I've trained any winter season.

Is it wrong to admit that I'd rather be better than mid-pack at races?

Have I mentioned I'll be 40 before the next race season starts? My time of improving from season to season is rapidly running out.

I was having this conversation today about the connection between a skating history in childhood and cycling. I used to skate as a kid. I did recreational figure skating until I was 12. Nothing spectacularly high level. My parents didn't want to put out the huge cash for club skating.

Then I switched to basketball and school sports. Yes I know I'm 5'3" -- but I started playing basketball in grade 8 and the assumption was that I would still grow taller. I didn't, but everyone else around me did. I was a decent basketball player. Very agile.  An excellent free throw shooter and ball handler. But by a certain age, my lack of growth caught up to me and I spent a lot of time on the bench. Actually there was a performance anxiety thing too. I panicked in real games when the ball came my way and got called for travelling a lot. If I was relaxed in a game I was fine. But usually I wasn't relaxed and my legs stuttered and I didn't even know it. It earned me a nickname though.

Crazy Legs.

I hated that nickname.

I developed leg muscles early in life because of skating, though, and I guess I carried the ability to re-develop those muscles into adulthood because the minute I got on a bike, at the ripe old age of 37, something clicked.

So, in case you care, here is my hot and cold romance with the notion we call "Training."

I did OK at sprint distance triathlon, the summer of 2008, with zero training in swimming or biking. I had trained all winter for the Manitoba Half Marathon and ran my best time to date (1:54:15). My best triathlon result that summer was coming 5/20 in my age group in Riding Mountain. If I could do that well on essentially NO formal training, I wondered what would happen if I trained.

I joined a triathlon club the following fall and probably biked about 3 times per week and ran about 3x per week and tried to swim 2x per week but fell off the wagon by January or so and probably swam once a month, if that. It was a  huge jump in training volume for me as I tried to keep up with the Tribalistic "Jones's" and I paid for it in IT band problems, night sweats, weight gain, and calf troubles -- perpetual calf troubles. I was also dating someone who lived to race. Some of those races I did too, some of them I did despite not wanting to do them, and some of them I was saved from doing by having the kids.

Sometimes kids are a fantastic excuse to not show up.

Physio and Athletic Therapy were my friends that  fall, winter and spring. My triathlon performance that summer (2009) was not much different than the summer before, which makes me walking evidence that overtraining is counterproductive.

My biking was getting better though.  Still not where I thought I could be, and by this point I knew I was on the wrong sized bike which I was also sure was not helping.

I signed up for the Calgary 70.3 because that race-hungry boyfriend at the time signed up for it. Again I was trying to keep up when I wasn't ready, but I kinda felt like I was supposed to try. Two weeks later I was done with the guy and stuck with a race entry.

I packed up house. I moved. I found another guy. I bought a bike. You know the story.

I biked maybe twice a week last winter. Skied a bit because the new guy was a skier. Swam rarely, once again peaking in November and falling off the wagon. Peaking at swimming in November does nothing to help your triathlon race in June.

I focused on running last winter, thinking that if I could train for a half marathon in the winter and spring and, during the summer, just maintain that fitness until August 1st, that would help allow me to focus on the bike when the snow melted and be ready in time for Calgary.

But the calf problems came back sometime after Christmas. Same thing. Cramping so bad and painful that running was impossible. My calves would be hard as rocks. The tightness creeped slowly down the back of both my legs and then settled in my calves. So I would walk and then run and walk and then run and eventually it would relieve itself and I could run steadily and normally but that usually took a painful half hour to get there.

Because AT worked the first time around, I acted quickly and went back as soon as it started up. A few weeks of running very very slowly and taking very long warm up periods, had me ready for Police Half at the beginning of May, at least. But I longed for the days when I could run a 9 minute mile comfortably. At that time, a 10 minute mile felt hard. I feel maxed out of breath a whole lot quicker when running in pain. I ran 2:00:15 at Police this year.

And Athletic therapy has always seemed to work. The guy I see is a bit of a sadistic bastard... (his words, not mine) but it works. And it hurts like hell. I'm not the best at consistently doing those little stability exercises they give you, but I try. But the timing of AT working has always been around spring -- just as we hit the road and outdoor bike training begins.

But biking feels good. Biking never seems to feel bad. It felt even better once I had bought myself a nice little package of speed in the form of the Madone. And I was finally on a bike that actually fit me.

The Calgary training plan came out of a book. The  plan was to pop into the half ironman training schedule at the finish of Police Half, and by that point, I was already far advanced of where the training plan had me situated in both running and biking (still wasn't swimming). And I was having trouble fitting the book's plan to my crazy life. So the plan kinda fell by the wayside and I did my own thing. So the Calgary training ended up being bike bike bike, a couple runs a week, a long run every second week, and swim when the mood struck and only in a lake. No more chlorine, thank you.

Thankfully, the calves were fine through the Calgary training and through the whole Calgary race. I did 3 Olympic Triathlons this summer prior to Calgary and came in 3rd in my age group in each one. I paid for the poor run training and inability to do speed work though. I think that in 2/3 of those races, I was in first place in my age group after the bike. Lost it on the run -- and never by a close margin either.

So training hasn't gone so well for me the last couple of years and I've never really focused on bike training before. It's hard to train for 3 sports, single parent, work full time -- even if I can do my workout in the middle of the day during work hours. I'm trying to be realistic now. One sport it is. My favourite one, of course.

I might do one or two triathlons this summer but there will be no swim training -- 6 AM dips in the cold pool in the middle of winter don't agree with my psyche. And I HATE doing 100s of meters of IM which is what Master's swimming forces me to do. What the hell do I need to do Fly for? Really. The occasional swim once the water opens up will be enough.

I hired Pat Peacock our head coach to train me this winter to bike better. I invested in a VO2 max test at U of M in November to get a baseline. I did that on my own because I've always wanted to try. It turned out OK, and believe me, my several cyclocross races in the weeks prior, helped that.

So now I'm on the trainer 5-6 times a week for 1-1.5 hours. I've been pretty well behaved up to this point in following "the plan" but this is only the beginning. I'm still enthusiastic. But I tend to follow plans pretty well. A friend offered to make me a plan in 2007 for my first half marathon. It was my first experience with formalized plans. It was combo running and strength training. I think I did nearly every run on that plan and followed it to the letter.

And yes Pat's training is the kind of training where I keep my heart rate in zones and time my intervals. Is that so wrong?  I've had a problem of only having one speed all this year and that's a problem I'm trying to break. If I have to use a heart rate monitor to keep me well behaved, I'll do it.

I intended to run too on this plan. Not a lot of running but enough to maintain what I have. I didn't want to burn myself out on a bike by only biking. Since the summer, running has actually felt OK. It has been a sigh of relief to run pain free for the last six months. I felt like I was getting faster, not nearly back to where I was 3 years ago, but the potential was there.

But within two weeks of being back on the indoor trainer I was not able to run. I'm always in denial when it starts up again. I had vague lower calf pains for a very short period of time on my first training run on the treadmill two weeks ago. I blamed it on Supercross actually -- pedalling with one leg in places and paddling the ground with the other leg in other spots. That's what caused my tightened calves, said my denying brain. But I finished the run easily that day. And I kinda liked it.

I did an HHH run, three days later, through deepish fresh snow that left my calves cramping and forced me to walk part of the trail. Not even the beer helped. I blamed it on the uneven running surface.

I did my scheduled treadmill run four days after that and it was a waste of time. After 40 minutes of walk-running, I aborted the run figuring I'd suffered long enough. The calf problem is back. Can't deny it now.

I don't know what it is about this time of the year that kills my run. Is it being on a trainer? It is 100% equal and bilateral. My calves are hard as rocks and the lack of range of motion and foot flexibility in my lower legs leaves me feeling like I'm running on two stumps.

What's different about being on a trainer than being on the road? I have theories. Lack of upper body stability required to maintain balance, for one, I think that is part of it. I think it ends up changing my pedal stroke too perhaps? I don't know.

It could quite possibly also just be just a personal glitch I have in my anatomic make-up. I may just not be built to run and bike at the same time.

Anyways this is the 3rd winter training season where running has been hampered by this problem so I'm sucking it up and hitting the sports medicine clinic. I hate that idea too but I feel I have no other choice.  Being a nurse, I have enough experience to know that what it boils down to is that doctors and the medical model have basically three solutions to problems.

A) Drug it.
B) Let's do Surgery.
C) Tell you to "Suck it up Princess" and live with it.

So I am going as a skeptic, but I'm going.

Cool Cyclocross Video: One Lap

A cool video of American Cyclocross Nationals Mens 35-39 from the perspective of a bike cam from one racer. First crash.... 10 seconds in.


Cyclocross National Championships Masters 35-39 from Josh Whitmore on Vimeo.