Here's Looking at You, Kid
Friday, July 06, 2007
Some vicarious blogging from CoS:
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As Erin's "Chief-of-Stuff," I've been a recurring character on this blog for some months now. I say character, because while I appear, it's not quite really me. When I rescue Erin from a flat tire situation, it's heralded on the long and winding road. When I say something stupid (which trust me, happens more than flat tires), it's edited out. When I join Erin on a run or a bike ride, I get e-kudos on the blog, while my complaining is tactfully lost to her readers. I even get the occasional photo…but only the ones she finds flattering.
It's a surreal experience being reported about on the blog and I thought that if Melanie could vicariously blog, it was about time for Chief-of-Stuff to speak up.
I love running and have included it in my work-out regime for the last twelve years. Running on a warm sunny day that begs to be enjoyed outside is an easy pleasure. But I've learned to love running at midnight when Madison sleeps or on cold winter evenings when the snow muffles the sound of the occasional car. Biking has never appealed to me as much as running. I'm not the kind of guy who gets into toys or gadgets. Running somehow seemed pure and free while biking tethered me to equipment and bound me to roads.
Twice, though, I've trained for marathons only to be defeated by IT band pain. Despite changing my shoes, wearing straps, stretching, icing, popping pills, strength training , allowing a chiropractor to bruise me with stainless steel instruments, and rolling on a surprisingly painful chunk of foam, my IT band gets inflamed when my long runs begin to creep past the half marathon mark, give or take a few. My last effort, in May, resulted in gritting my teeth through 13.1 miles and settling for finishing a half-marathon. I've run exactly 1.5 miles since.
Something strange has happened, though. Biking has begun to seem appealing. After watching Erin finish a duathlon and a triathlon, I had to admit that biking looked like fun. And given Erin's summer training schedule, it began to look like biking might be the only good opportunity to hang out with her.
So I tried a couple rides with her on my hybrid and was roundly humiliated. I'm man enough to admit it; she kicked my ass. My interest spiked, though. I remembered living on my bike all summer as a kid. It seems like every conversation I had was over the the handlebars of my ten speed. I remember 40 mile rides out to Sauk City and back with my friend Luke in high school. There's a certain freedom and exhilaration that accompanies a bike ride. It's just different than a good run.
And then a friend offered to help me buy a bike at a steep discount. The universe was conspiring so I decided to buy myself my first real road bike.
Last weekend, Erin and I headed up to her hometown and I had the chance to try out my LeMond Versailles. It was a gorgeous sunny day and I felt almost giddy at the prospect of a long ride, on a new bike, through one of the most beautiful parts of the country. I also felt secretly pleased by the confidence I had that my new bike would give me a shot at keeping up with an ironwoman-in-training. After all, I was in marathon shape. How hard could it be to apply that to biking?
We conquered the reputedly terrible hills (the mini-bitches) early and without much trouble. My confidence soared. Most of the roads were curvy back highways lined with towering pine trees or farms. The asphalt seemed new and smooth, the sun was warm, my legs felt fresh, and I was having a blast. I began comparing biking and running and decided that biking – if anything – was a better workout because it forced interval work into the middle of an endurance work-out.
As the course wore on, my thoughts shifted. I went from being in love with a hunk of carbon, to feeling blah, and even wondering how anyone could ever be one with the god-forsaken torture instrument beneath me.
I also began to notice that every time we hit a hill, Erin pulled away a little. As my strength began to fade, I started counting up all the excuses I still had left now that I could no longer blame my inferior performance on the hybrid bike. I didn't have clipless pedals. Or aerobars. I hadn't had the bike adjusted yet. I had only been biking six times this year (excluding spin bikes at the gym). I didn't have a fancy bike computer. Or the right sun glasses. My jersey wasn't as tight fitting and was causing (I'm sure) substantial drag.
And just as I was beginning to confront the humbling reality that Erin is just flat-out a better biker, I discovered the miracles of drafting. Tucked in behind her bike, I took a break anytime I felt like giving up. I forced myself not to ride there for too long, but drafting saved me. And because it's not allowed in the Ironman, I saw no need to return the favor.
And soon I began to enjoy the ride again. I mixed my ride between drafting, sprinting, coasting, climbing, pulling up alongside Erin to talk, and building up as much speed as possible down hills. And other than the moment when I suggested we go throttle the Mortl tech, I began to love the ride.
With a new carbon road bike, the promise of future advantages like clipless pedals and aerobars, a great training partner, and a gorgeous UP day, I punched through 58 miles with enough left to sprint for the last two or three miles.
And as I pulled up alongside Lake Antoine, I looked down at my shiny blue LeMond with min-max carbon frame and Shimano components and thought, "this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."
Posted by Erin 9:13 AM