As the first races of the season start next weekend, this will be the last entry in my training log for the winter 2010 season. This would be a good moment to recap my winter training, but I can’t seem to muster the enthusiasm to reflect back upon training sessions that were equal parts delusion, obsession, neurosis, malaise and cheese. I have simply trained enough to be able to participate in the upcoming races. I have not trained enough to hope to be a dominating factor in these races, I have done just enough to be able to toe the line. That is all I ask of my winter training. I will then hope to race myself into shape—which is the plan followed by professional cyclists since the dawn of Biopace. It’s a tried and true methodology, employed by none other than Jan Ullrich, who also annually relied upon racing to melt the excess sausage padding from his frame. And if it was good enough for The Kaiser, well then who am I to argue with such success?

But who amongst us is actually ready for the upcoming racing season? Sure, a dedicated few have been diligently executing the intervals emailed from their coaches’ laptops in preparation for the first races of spring; but most of us are looking toward goals later in the season (my goals are for early June in the 2012 season). Plainly put, very few of us are ready for the upcoming season. Is anyone ready for the wobbly return of those who haven’t ridden in a pack since August? Is anyone truly prepared for the late race teetering of those who find themselves in over their aerobically challenged heads? Who among us will be able to withstand Mihael Ginghina’s commentary upon our winter weight gain? I would dare to say none of us are genuinely ready for what the upcoming season holds for us. 

But we will race on undeterred. We race because we cannot stand the thought of a race occurring without us. We will race to find out what happened, instead of waiting for the results to pop up on the internet. We will race because it will give us a delightful opportunity to indulge in the activity racers love most—complaining. We will race so our friends don’t get faster than us. We will race to get into shape. We will race to test our fitness, but mostly we will race because we’ve been riding alone for countless hours, and our enthusiasm for pedaling a bicycle is waning—and only the company of other like minded lunatics will raise our spirits. Enjoy the season.

Friday February 19, 2010

Today I did the equivalent of a health club cardio circuit. I alternated between riding my bike on rollers and stopping to lift the assorted weights that were laying around in my basement. The structure of this circuit was a bit haphazard, as I hadn’t really planned out a definitive workout. But I’m going to go with the assumption that some physical activity is better than nothing whatsoever. I then stripped off my fuzzy leg warmers and ripped sweatshirt before retreating to the sauna.

Sunday February 21, 2010

Today I woke early to ride with Brian G. Those of you familiar with Mr. G. will know that he is an unfailingly enthusiastic individual, who enjoys a multitude of challenges and adventures. I tend more towards crotchetiness, but Brian’s zeal for cycling endeavors served to buoy my spirits, so much so that I decided that, whenever the opportunity would present itself, I would try to smother any athletic efforts he put forth.

This may seem like a very cynical attitude to take towards a riding companion, but I was thinking of Brian’s best interests. Brian is a special case, he can only be coerced into riding at a high pace when certain special conditions manifest themselves. He will, for instance, not ride hard until his feet have touched his pedals. Nor will he ride at a capillary bursting pace until he has sat down upon his saddle. I do not blame Brian, as years of preparing for the athletic purgatory known as triathlon have left an imprint on him. Triathlon training progresses towards a goal of a maximum steady sustained (and repellent to bike racers) effort. This is all well and good for those who race in soggy micro man-bikinis, but these notions needs to be extinguished in order to race bicycles, as proper bike racing technique dictates that a racer do as little as possible until the proper moment arrives—and only then does the racer put forth the maximum possible effort—and if all goes well, the racer is either rewarded by simultaneous kisses on the cheek from local agricultural beauty queens or the racer gets a pavlovian reward thrust from the window of the team car.

I would have to be careful with Brian, as he rides like a surly thoroughbred, if he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision, he will surge. I had to find the correct position, somewhere between half-wheeling and following. If I drifted too far back, he would slow, but I moved too far ahead, he would accelerate. And so we rolled, side by side, walking the fine line between disaster and triathlon.

Our plan was to join the Rocket Ride (or whatever that ride is called these days) at Nyack, and accompany the throng until it turned northward, take our leave, and then venture westward towards home. We left with the ride at the Spoon, wound our way through Nyack and shortly thereafter we all decided to try and commit athletic homicide. The pace seemed to be bordering on the "racey" side for much of the duration of the ride. Thankfully there was a big crowd and there were plenty of red lights to keep the mayhem at bay, but the efforts did seem to be quite taxing. Brian and I pulled out at the roundabout in Dumont, and limped home, with me taking care to not hit his peripheral vision, lest I be required to raise my pace above a mosey.

Monday February 22, 2010

Today’s ride was surprisingly un-abhorrent. I was expecting to be more fatigued from yesterday’s Brian-wrangling and Rocket-y pace, but I was astonishingly spry today. I ventured outside today as the forecast for the week looks to soon make riding outdoors an anomaly, like congressional bipartisanship or a tolerable Nicholas Cage movie.

Tuesday February 23, 2010

Today saw my first ride in my basement for the week. I dutifully did a set of 20/10s. During the halfway point of my set, as I began another mighty 20 second burst, my chain leapt from its home on my rear derailleur, trying no doubt to escape the power pummeling that I was administering through the pedals. I stopped, gathered the wayward chain and placed it back onto its proper pulley. I then resumed my intervals at a pace that could only be described as "middling". 

Wednesday February 24, 2010

Today I did a quick spin in the morning in order to buoy my self-delusion, followed by a 90 minute endurance pace ride later in the day to buoy my weariness. 

Thursday February 25, 2010

Today I had two 20 minute kinda hard intervals scheduled, which to me are very a daunting endeavor on rollers. I was slogging my way through them, and fantasized many times about quitting. But I just accessed the reptilian portion of my mind and pushed through stubbornly—much like Aerosmith did during the creating of "Love in an Elevator".