After last’s week’s sanctimonious rant, it’s time to return to the real business of my log—maintaining and building the delusion that allows me to continue to think of myself as a bike racer. The winter season is the perfect time to cultivate these misguided thoughts, as there’s no pesky races or competition to shatter the meticulously constructed crystal castle of athletic illusion I build over the winter months. If no one is beating me, I must therefore be unbeatable—the logic is flawless. 

We amateur racers have different motivations for racing than professionals do. Firstly professionals race for money, hence the moniker "professional". But that’s not their only reason for racing—they are also motivated by the desire for: fame, frolics on the beach, fancy haircuts, spray tan, bedazzled clothing, encounters with stunned wildlife and group singalongs in hot tubs. (I base all these assumptions on photographs from team training camps). Professionals are a breed apart from we amateurs, but we among the non-pro ranks also have our own special reasons for racing—we like to beat one another.

You see, no one witnesses our races. Sure you have the occasional race in a town square in front of reluctant supporters and inconvenienced locals, but these are anomalies. Most of our races are in remote locations or held at times when no one in their right mind has a chance of happening upon them. No one else knows what we’re up to. Only we know who won, who tried in vain, who broke away and who decided to try the pro move of peeing off their bike and ended up whizzing all over themselves. 

We write our own narratives of achievements and derring-do. We become the characters in each other’s dramas. Personally, I’d like to think that I’m the villain in the stories of at least four different racers (I’m the hero in only one narrative, my own, and I portray myself as a reluctant hero at best). I think that sometimes when people get out of the sport, that might be what they miss the most—the on road dramas, the stories and the characters. Or they just miss wrapping their groins in lycra and hitting the road. Either way, this sport is hard to walk away from.

I’m returning to the "classic" format for this log, I’ll be posting my Baseline Emotional State (BES™) along with power numbers and marsupial based weight scales for each workout. In addition to the infographics, I am also posting photos from each ride, which will mean plenty of shots of my basement as I am riding rollers quite a bit these days. I plan on continuing to include photos from my rides until I grow tired of bringing my phone along.

Friday December 3, 2010

Much like meatloaf day at the elementary school cafeteria, today was a sprint day. I did my duty and pedaled quickly when it was necessary. My sprint numbers were as follows: 975 1007 1015 1034 1044. I like numbers as much as the next fellow in tights. When I’m on long car trips, I like to try and hit the maximum average MPGs on my car’s computer while simultaneously maintaining a high average speed (and I don’t let thing like urinating or turning the steering wheel get in my way)—basically simple computations that don’t require any heavy math. Thats why I like just recording my max wattage numbers—they seem math-y without delving too deeply into equations that, if I am to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to fathom.

This is the sprint launch pad (photo taken before asphalt repeatedly scorched by sprinting mightiness).

Saturday December 4, 2010

Today’s ride was the bike racing equivalent of treading water, I rode thirty minutes simply to say that I did, and to maintain my streak of watching every episode of the Daily Show for two months straight. After getting off my bike I called up Cal Ripken to taunt his candy ass.

Here’s the media center with my own personal wind tunnel.

Monday December 6, 2010

As I have stated before, I am trained by God, as he creates the weather that either places me inside or allows me to ride in the area known as "the world". Today was a borderline day, the skies were free of rain (although we had our first few flurries of the snow season), but the temperature was sitting near my personal limit for riding comfort, which has risen to 35 degrees. The number wasn’t always 35 degrees, in year’s past, I’d go out in temperatures as low as 25; but age and general milquetoast-ed-ness have gradually pushed that number up to 35. I have been feeling a bit under the weather—I’m the caretaker of the family cough right now—so  a spin in the basement seemed the right thing to do. I also mixed in some tabata squats, to help assuage my guilt over being such a fair weather trainer. 

I rode the rollers as an afterthought to my weight training, treating my bike like an elliptical trainer rather than the two-wheeled transporter to personal glory that it is.

This is the strength training wing of my training facility, I’ve been working on developing a sport that combines basketballs, suitcases of different sizes and duct tape, the Russians are very interested.

Tuesday December 7, 2010

Today was another descent into my elliptical shed to do yet another "workout". I’m still working as custodian of the current family illness (which appears to be upper-resperatorially [yeah, I know that’s not a word, Andy] based) so I stayed inside again today. I dispatched some schmalz-bata squat jumps along with some pogos, I then mounted my machine to get in some "cardio" work. Afterwards, I toweled off and headed to the steam room, where I made myself uncomfortable by sitting nude with my legs spread at a very wide angle.

This is my indoor training command center, I use all these implements during the course of a workout.

Wednesday December 8, 2010

Today I was planning on prattling on about athletic achievement or my cold or some other such self-obsessed nonsense, but today something extra special happened. Today toting along my iphone on rides  finally paid off, I was able to snatch an image of one of the regulars on my rides on the Saddle River Bike Path. And I will tell you that this individual is a stalwart, someone who on the path in good weather and bad, warm temperatures and cold. No, it isn’t the MILF Hunter, I think he’s moved onto greener pastures or has been caught up in some sort of 48 hours-type sting operation—my picture today is of the one, the only—the frighteningly skinny woman.

I managed to get a shot of the FSW as she walked over the Saddle River (duh! It’s called the Saddle River Bike Path!) on one of the many bridges that cross the river. I took my picture from behind as to not disturb her on her walk. I must say that I admire her tenacity. She is out walking in all types of weather. Granted, she might be better served by staying home and having a hot chocolate and a piece of cake (I fear for her health. I really do—not enough to stop and talk to her mind you—that would just be presumptuous), but nonetheless her determination is remarkable. So here’s to you frighteningly skinny woman, may the bike path rise to meet you and may you never be accosted by silly bike riders wearing multicolored leotards. Again.

There she goes (cue Incredible Hulk sad "walking away" music).

Thursday December 9, 2010

My foray into the winter weather yesterday, while it awarded me a rare opportunity to photograph the FSW, it also did my schmalz family head cold no good. When confronted with normal winter illnesses, my first instinct is to ignore them. If that doesn’t work, I then try to douse the illness with my own herbal remedy, which is vodka paired with tonic. And if that therapy route is unsuccessful, I again try ignoring my illness—the vodka treatments are especially helpful here. The vodka treatments can be so helpful in fact, that I sometimes forget that I am sick entirely, unfortunately I also forget other things like getting up off the couch and 1986. My efforts at ignoring my head cold were set back because I decided to ride outdoors yesterday. I came to my senses today and rode in my basement of positive affirmation. Today’s ride was a yeoman’s effort of 40 minutes.

A close up of my resistance unit, the Russians are all over this also.