4th time is Not the charm

I don't know why some days are easier than others, why some rides feel effortless and others just plain slow. Slow is kind. Stupid slow, is better. If I had the answer, I would probably be wealthy beyond my means. But I don't, so I'm not.

And it occurred to me after my ride - while staring at my favorite painting and calculating the hill gradient for the road that slopes up to the monastery at the top- that I've got hills on the brain. Specifically bike hills.


Call me crazy, if you want.

But when you spend the morning climbing Mount Palomar after riding there and then riding back, it's not all that far off.

Today's ride included, I've climbed Palomar a grand total of four times. And though I claimed last time was the hardest - I lied. This time - today in fact - won that distinct honor. And unlike beauty pageants, this was not pretty.


The ride to the base was blissfully uneventful. I met up with a gang of four other riders in San Marcos and we headed out early - just after 7:00 am. The 90 minute ride to the base of Palomar was beautiful - flat at first, then up Lake Wohlford Road (part of the Tour of California as well) before hitting Lake Wohlford, and then through Valley View and Rincon Valley past Harrah's casino.

Thanks to a love of gambling, there were no shortage of cars on the road. It was even better on the return trip. It's the economy stupid!

Oops - wrong blog for that. Sorry!

I knew it would be windy during the descent into Rincon Valley. The 2 mile downhill stretch (let me tell you - that felt super going UP after Palomar!) had me squeezing the brakes and still reaching speeds of over 40 mph. Then the gusts started affecting me, and I slowed down. After all, I haven't got the greatest track record for bike descents.

Ahem.

But with the wind, there was one point I was looking at the valley floor from over a thousand feet up and hoping - nay praying - that I wouldn't hit the guardrail, flip, and sail over the edge. The gusts made me slow down and they only increased in ferocity and we neared the bottom. At one point - going down a steep hill - our little group was barely holding more than 18 mph. While pedaling.

Yeah, good stuff.

It was only a sign of what lay ahead.

Looking back - I realize that all the signs were pointing towards NOT climbing Palomar. Like in the horror movie where the blond chick with big boobs is walking down the creepy dark hallway and all you're doing is yelling at the screen saying 'don't go THERE' but she does anyway because its a movie and gory stuff is oddly popular...

Sure, I was looking forward to the challenge, but I just wasn't feeling it. It was windy, too hot, too cold, my bottles were heavy, a less than stellar comment about my 4:bloody:34 am breakfast being wrought upon me by myself because I was the one who signed up for Ironman (that one hurt - mostly because I was already feeling crummy), I didn't get enough sleep because of nerves, the cat was in heat - you name it. I was looking for excuses.

And it was incessant. (Nathaniel can attest to the above statement: the poor guy had to put up with me before I left. If something could have been wrong, it was. He is so brave.)

But I refused to let that bother me: I was here to climb a really big hill. What was I supposed to do - just turn around and go back? Had I actually known the way back, perhaps. But I didn't. And besides - the guys that I was riding with are all incredibly awesome and supportive. I knew that they wouldn't have stood for it.

After stopping at Jilberto's Taco Shop to use the restroom (better than squatting at the side of the road like I did with Kim last time - luckily no one recognized me as "that girl"), we were on our way.

Within five minutes, I was off the back. And I wondered - as I watched the Mikes (there were two), Allan, and Rod pedal away - why wasn't I doing my best to stay on there wheel? Why wasn't I fighting for it? Why was I just settling??

For some reason, I had no response - and I just watched as they slowly pulled away. It almost would have been easier had they been faster (impossible since they were all going hard - okay, easier if I had been going slower, which seemed impossible given how slowly I was going). My cadence felt high, I just couldn't (or wouldn't) push the big gears. I was geared out right away in my 27. And that was just so sad.

For Mom and Dad: a 27 means that I was in my rear casset gear with the most teeth (rings) on it. So I was encountering the least amount of resistance possible. Had I wanted to go faster by working harder or encounter more resistance, I could have downshifted and put my chain in the 24 or 21 ring. It would have taken more effort to turn the crank and pedal, but the result would have been a faster speed. Most of the time when I climb this, I'm pretty comfortable in the 21 and 24 ring (in the beginning and even on the upper slopes unless its really steep). But for some reason, today I was all about the 27. Hope this helps...

I just wasn't feeling it - didn't have that fighting spirit. I was so frustrated that I wanted to cry. At one point I even took out my phone (while riding - very impressive for me - then again, I was going a mere 5 mph) and contemplated calling Nathaniel and telling him to pick me up at Jilbertos. I would have even gotten him nachos. But the lack of phone reception put a damper on my plans, so I reluctantly put it back in my bike jersey pocket.

Besides, my guys ahead would be really worried. So for better or worse - I pressed on.

But through the suffering, through the mental anguish of riding up up up, I realized that if I wanted any chance of completing the climb - I would have to turn off my brain. Ignore the powermeter, disregard the heart rate (blissfully low given my exertion level), stop thinking about my time from bottom to top - and just ride.

Just ride.

So simple.

But it took me 45 minutes to figure it out, and I was already well onto South Grade Road at that point (the steepest part of the climb).

So I put my head down, quieted my mind, ignored the scenery, and stared at the white line of the road. Once I allowed myself to ride, to go without thinking, it became much easier. I was no longer fighting myself, fighting my doubts, and instead, just performing a basic task of turning one pedal stroke over another.

Additionally, I realized that quitting was not an option. And not only because it would haunt me on any and every race day from here on out (Q-U-I-T-T-E-R is not what I want to think about when facing the wall at mile 100 of IM CDA bike course. Instead I want to remember how I pushed through those hard times. Within reason, of course!) Just because I wasn't having the ride of my life, didn't mean that I wouldn't learn from the experience or take anything away from the workout. Far from the truth. I've always said that the races where I learn the most are the ones where I've struggled.

So this would simply be one of those days.

I don't really remember much after that - because I tuned everything out. There were gnats, annoying little buggers that were attracted to my sweat or their own reflection in my glasses (or both). Also, lots and lots of motorcylcles - the guys on crotch rockets with leather suits and metal plates on their legs so they can race up and down the mountain roads. For the record, their bikes sounded like an approaching swarm of hornets, and the exhaust was enough to make one high. Additionally, I remember looking at the mile markers - located ever .2 miles on South Grade Road.

For some reason, I refused to acknowledge anything below mile 45. Like it wasn't there or something. Actually, I figured that because South Grade Road ended at 47.8 or something, when I finally started counting the mile markers I would only have 2.8 miles to count down. A lot less daunting than 11.7 or whatever the climb total was.

Seeing the 3000 feet elevation sign was wonderful. The 4000 feet sign (after the sign that reads: It is unlawful to throw snowballs at moving vehicles) was even better. And, in my delirium, I though that I read the 5000 feet elevation sign at mile 46.8, but I was wrong. Or just hallucinating. Because I saw it again at mile 47.0

It was the fumes.

The ups were constant and never-ending. But my sense of time was warped, as I refused to look at my watch or anything else that would have clued me in. Ignorance is bliss, it turns out (until I saw my time at the top, 8 minutes slower than last time). And instead I rode with guts, giving what I could to simply get by.

Today I realized that I won't be able to set a personal best every time I tackle a challenge. Conditions, wind, the ride there - hell all three could have affected my performance.

On the other hand, I'm not looking for excuses, nor am I willing to make them. I just didn't have that little extra bit that I've had before. That spark, that fire - was not burning in my belly. But I learned that I can still prevail, still push through and finish. As long as I let myself go - and then in the long run be okay with that.

So I am.

During the descent I thought a lot about my climb, and how I wanted the rest of the ride to be.

I wasn't satisfied and I refused to let a sub-par climb on Palomar dictate the rest of my workout. So I worked the hills (and there were plenty!), pushed as hard as I could, and managed to stay with the top two guys until the ride was finished. I grew stronger as the ride progressed, happier as the miles ticked off, and exuberant at every opportunity to get down in my aero bars and pedal through rural San Diego county.

Life wasn't so bad after all. Besides, if climbing Palomar is the toughest thing on my plate for the day, then I've got it easy - relatively speaking.

I guess I did have it in me: it only took three hours to figure it out. And one hell of a climb.

Better late than never, I suppose.

And now, I'm still contemplative. Days like these will do that to you. I've pretty much determined the gradient in the painting, and am moving on to other things. Like thinking about my date night with Nathaniel.

Yeah - that's more like it. We're having Thai-Japanese food, trying a new restaurant up in Oceanside for dinner. As long as the discussion doesn't veer toward biking or epic climbs, then I'm fine.

With 7,500+ feet of elevation gain, I've had enough for one day, thank-you-very-much.

In the long run, my body, my legs, and my mind will be better for this day, better for this workout.

And tomorrow, I'll think about it more objectively. But for now, the memory is still too fresh.

Next up: date with Nathaniel. And perhaps a movie...Lord of the Rings 1 was on TV last night, and my favorite happens to be the second...we'll see if I can stay awake that long. At this point, who knows!

Lost: Arms.

I knew that I was in trouble when I went to lift the 11 pound box of laundry detergent and my arms failed me. I blame it on the Masters swim coach. Who the heck (aside from Jen Harrison) ends a workout with 2 X {6 X 75 MAX EFFORT SPRINT + 100 easy between sets}?

As thought the 100 easy could really 'make up' for the 12 75s.

Yeah, sure. Okay!

I was this close to pushing our coach in the pool but refrained because 1) I like her 2) Pushing her in the pool would require getting OUT of said pool, which was impossible given how trashed my arms felt and 3) I don't want to face a lifetime ban from Carlsbad Masters swimming.

So I kept my mouth shut, the comments to myself, and swam the entire last set.

And it really was ugly.

Somehow I can ride my bike for 4 hours without a problem, run for hours on end to no avail. But when instructed to SPRINT 75 meters - less than 60 seconds in my world - I can feel a whine forming in my mind. Give me Palomar, give me a 2:00 hour trail run, give me anything but sprinting in the pool. I just don't work that way.

Which is exactly why workouts like this are good for me.

They mix things up, they challenge me, they push me in ways that I wouldn't normally be pushed. They add variety: that spice of life that we all need from time to time. Plus (and its not like I need a lot of this one at this point), but they serve to toughen me up. It's one thing to swim 2 X 75 max, or even 4 X 75 at the end of a long workout (at the end of a long week). But to hang in there are complete all 12 - well, it was tough.

In the long run, its doing the things that we don't necessarily want to do (but should do) that help to make us better, more versatile.

And though I looked as though I needed assistance while getting out of the pool (It took no less than 3 tries to hoist myself up and out of the water), in the end I made it. I think the guard was worried, though.

Just don't ask me to lift any laundry detergent anytime soon. Or use my arms. They're overrated anyway.

Thanks to Charisa and Peter for making this a tough - but GREAT swim.

My reward? A bowl of Thai Curry Soup from Noodles & Company. Yum! (Can you tell I've been there before??? Silly question!)

Back at it!

The proof is in the pudding, so to speak. My lats are sore, my shoulders ache, and there's a peculiar feeling in my core when I laugh or sneeze. And because I'm not an especially serious person who loves to laugh, and sneezing is something that you just shouldn't hold back - this morning I found myself in a bit of discomfort.

And really, I couldn't be happier.

It's because yesterday, I jumped in the pool for the first time since being sick. Cue the applause, the orchestra swelling, the birds singing, rainbows and butterflies everywhere... and all that good stuff.

It did feel a bit of a miracle that I made it all the way through my Master's workout. There's something just so wrong about swimming 4100 meters on your first go - but I was too happy to complain. Instead, I jumped to the back of Lane 3, ignored the usual swim-as-fast-as-you-can-for-the-pull-set-antics, and did the entire workout. Even when those guilty of swimming-as-fast-as-they-could-for-the-entire-pull-set had to "rest" on the wall or get out early because of "work".

Yeah sure.

Just goes to show that (sometimes) slow and steady is the way to be.

Although my swimming (I'm sure) looked pretty ugly at the end. The fast 200s were pretty painful, especially as the lane leaders didn't get the memo about taking it easy on the 100s. But, since I was drafting off the back and therefore not being responsible by leading, I kept my trap shut.

But the 200s were still painful. All bloody 4 of them. At one point, I though my lungs would explode and I wondered what that image would look like in the middle of my 3rd 50 on an especially grueling 200. A pair of overworked lungs sinking to the bottom gasping for air that isn't there while Marit looks on in disbelief...and the coach on the deck shouts to keep going with the set...and the people who swam too fast for the pull set taking it easy on the wall exclaim 'that's why we only swim hard early...'

Yeah, not so much about the fantasy-situations mid-swim. It only made me giggle, which was pretty hard to do while going all-out. I don't suggest that you try it.

Somehow I survived and was no worse for the wear. I knew that the lack of sensation in the triceps and lats would only be temporary. The real pain would be felt the next morning - like right now.

Ow ow ow ow ow.

But I'll take it - at least its better than constantly blowing my nose or dealing with sinus pressure. Thankfully, both - the sinus pressure and snot build up - seem to be gone (knock on wood! I'm superstitious, so I just knocked on a wooden end table - you would be wise to do the same. Why? I don't really know. It's just something I do...I guess...like breathing.), and I'm really feeling better.

So much, so that I volunteered to climb Palomar this week. I think my coach dropped her M&Ms or something in excitement, because the next thing I knew, it was on my Saturday workout - along with a lot of other stuff this week.

So I guess, the pain in my lats and core is just the tip of the ice berg. But I'm not complaining. I'll do what I did yesterday during my swim: shut up and push through. Because in the end, that's what I'll need to do if I want to accomplish my season goals. Tough times ahead, yes - but well worth it in the end.

Funny thing? Yesterday was my 'easy' day. But I'm not laughing. It's too painful. This week should be interesting...stay tuned!

Hurrah for training and being healthy! Three cheers!!! Sorry I can't throw my arms up in the air - it hurts! But the excitement and enthusiasm is there...

Tour of California!

You know that you've arrived at a major bike race when you see things like this:

And especially that!
Yes, my friends, the above bike is indeed the very same one that some guy named Lance rode during the prologue, that was stolen, was (miraculously) recovered, and then ridden again during the Solvang Time Trail. At least that's what the guys at the Treck booth claimed.

Regardless, it looked awesome. And I couldn't resist a picture. But I didn't go so far as to touch the thing. I wasn't sure if any alarm bells or whistles would go off, like they do in Art Museums. The thing had already been stolen once, and I was sure security was pretty tight.

If you haven't already guessed, Nathaniel and I headed out to lovely Escondido for the final day of the Amgen Tour of California. Initially I had mixed feelings about spectating the finish...after all, unless we got really really close by pushing and shoving our way in to the finish area, we weren't going to see anything spectacular.

And I had squashed the idea of heading out to Palomar, as I knew crowds would be fierce, traffic would be horrible, and Nathaniel doesn't own a bike.

Wow - that sounded really negative.

But in reality, we thought that walking around the expo, watching the finish sprint, and catching the awards would be a neat thing to do. It was a new experience for the both of us, seeing The Grand Pelaton.
Looking up the road towards the finish. And massive crowds of people!

Actually, it was reported that in excess of 2 million people spectated today's race. Wow!

Eventually we settled a few hundred meters away from the final kilometer banner, along with thousands of other people. It was much much much worse closer to the finish line. Trust me. We schlepped through the crowds before arriving at our final point, a nice spot on the top of a small rise in the road. Great for viewing the approaching riders. You can just barely see the black 1 Km finishing banner down the road.

Before the riders came through, Nathaniel and I managed a picture in the middle of the road.

Then the cops, volunteers, race officials, and more cops came through and cleared the road. There were no exceptions!Actually the above picture doesn't do justice. There were tons of motorcycle cops and police cars racing down the course. Our camera just wasn't fast enough to catch every one of them. This proved problematic later on after the race when this guy went by.

I knew someone important was approaching, because the crowd suddenly swelled and no less than 20 cops came by either running (fast) or biking. Then I saw Lance. Lance! Holy Cow! I grabbed the camera, took aim and...

Waited for the flash.

Stupid flash!

Stupid camera!

But luckily I got a great picuture of Lance Armstrong's rear end.

It seems he prefers the baggy shorts, skater shoes, and no-helmet approach post-ride.

Through some miracle of maricles we managed to avoid getting trampled by the throngs of people swarming by us in effort to catch Lance. Newsflash: the guy is on a bike. And he's fast. You have no hope! But I kept my thoughts to myself, as the idea of chasing after him crossed through my mind as well.

Instead, Nathaniel and I walked around the expo area, enjoying the sights and sounds.
(One of the many large screens around the expo and race area).
(The Leaderboard)

On the way back to the car, Nathaniel and I came across this bike, the coolest bike ever! If I was in the market for a fixed gear, this would be my pick:

Overall, it was a great day, with lots of new experiences. Unfortunately, I don't know who won the race or even how the climb up Palomar went. So now, I'll do as any good cycling fan would: watch the Versus recap of today's race. Don't worry about any spoiler! alerts here, my friends. I don't even know the outcome or how many people finished today's stage. But not to worry - within the hour I'll find out.

The one downside of today was realizing how much our camera sucks. The flash was impossible to turn off, so Nathaniel took video footage as the pelaton and various riders went by. Unfortunately, I'm having a difficult time uploading the video to blogger - my apologies! But rest assured, it looked really cool! to see the riders zip by. Perhaps in addition to a new bed, a new camera is in our future.

I hope so!

Oh - this is one FINAL note. :) We did get one picture of a Rabobank rider coming through by himself, between the first group of riders and the second. It turns out that he got a flat tire with about 7K left to go. Poor guy! But at least we got his picture!

And on one MORE final note - I did find this buried in the realms of our camera. Not really sure which group this was, but proof that we did see them ride by.

Next stop: new camera!

Sushi anyone?

You would think that by now, I would know better.

Never go food shopping on an empty stomach. Especially - and here's the kicker - less than two hours after a four hour bike ride when all that I've consumed since getting off said bike was chocolate milk and a recovery bar.

Yeah.

I swear that my eyes were as big as saucers upon entering Ralph's.

Like a kid in a candy shop? You have no idea.

But in my defense, I walked into the store with one purpose, and one purpose only: sushi.

Sure, I could have gone to a sushi bar restaurant - but that would have required dressing up (from my cargo pants and flip flops), sitting down, reading long-winded descriptions, ordering, waiting, waiting, and more waiting, and then finally getting my meal.

And at that point, I just wasn't interested.

No - instead I wanted to curl up with lots of sushi, in our new bed (so comfortable), watching the Tour of California and reading my latest book (second time going through World Without End by Ken Follett - fantastic!). Toss in a diet coke and a random Mini or House Monster, and I'm yours forever.

I entered the store, and was immediately distracted by flowers. Flowers you say? Yes, flowers. Most notably, the wonderful selection of freshly-cut Tulips. I'm a sucker for beautiful plants and flowery things, although I don't have the greatest track record with them. The nice way of saying that I'm a plant killer.

Clearly, the lack of sustenance was distracting. I couldn't eat the flowers, and although they were beautiful, I had other, more important things to do. Before I added a colorful bouquet to my basket, I turned on my heel, er flip-flops, and made my way to the sushi bar.

Behold! There it was, in all its glory! And so many selections too!

I stared for no less than 8 minutes at the vast array of sushi available. Not really - it was probably around 5 minutes. I may have drooled a little, but no one else was there to witness my antics.

What to choose? What to choose?

I knew that Nathaniel wanted something spicy with shrimp and rice. I made a bee-line for the Inari Rolls - one of his favorites, which coincidentally are named after the Japanese God Inari, who was believed to have a fondness for fried tofu. Little does he know that his favorite sushi treat are no more than the dreaded tofu which he claims is flavorless. If he only knew...

And then it was my turn. What to choose?

There were so many distractions, and they all looked good. I quickly crossed out any rolls. No eel, exnay on the California, and definitely not anything spicy. Instead, I went for the nigiri and then box tuna.

Then it hit me: would this be enough? A quick scan revealed no shrimp lettuce rolls, and I already had plenty of nigiri. What about the rainbow roll? True, the innards contained California roll, but the outside was covered in sliced tuna, salmon, and avocado.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

I quickly left the counter before I changed my mind. Salmon box tuna looked awfully good...

I should have gone directly to the counter and paid for my purchase. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go directly to jail! Oops - wrong game. But in principle it's correct.

Instead, I made a grand tour of the store. Swedish fish? Yum! Ben & Jerry's? Even better? Tomato Basil Wheat Thins? Right on!

But in spite of how much I wanted the treats, I knew that I had yummy stuff in my basket, and even better things waiting for me at home. Sure, I had bike for a long time today and even though Swedish Fish were seemingly calling my name, I had plenty with my sushi.

Besides, I knew there was a ritter sport somewhere in the house. All bets were off if Nathaniel decided to eat the entire thing himself. I've been known to tackle him for lesser things. Chocolate and buttery wafer sounded really good. Yeah. And a tackle would be justified.

Plus, the clock was ticking, and I didn't want to miss my favorite Versus commentators (Phil Ligget and Paul Sherwen, for all those curious) do what they do best.

So I avoided all sweet temptation, and checked out.

But it was a challenge.

Especially when faced with the wall of candy in the check out lane. Yeah, I know that stores put it there specifically to target little kids (at least that's what I tell myself when I pass it by...will I reduce myself to acting like a 5-year-old and cave by purchasing an overpriced bag of peanut M&Ms? Or will I be strong resisting all temptation? It's always a bit of a gamble. Especially when I don't have something like sheet cake or treats in my cart).

Luckily, the old man directly ahead of me distracted me by asking lots of questions about my sushi selection. I think he was more surprised at the price than the fact I was eating raw fish.

"You pay that much and they don't even cook it for you?"

He sounded really surprised.

Then again, he managed to get all his seven items for under $10. My dragon roll was $9.99. Nice.

Suddenly the extra PB Cup seemed like too much of a guilty pleasure. I was already having my fill with sushi.

Next trip, perhaps.

Then again, next time I'll probably be better prepared and shop on a full stomach. I think I'll be able to cut back from 4 sushi trays to 2, at least. And in that case, I'll have plenty of room for desert.

Swedish Fish anyone?