My first indoor time trial

About a month ago I was informed by my coach that indoor time trials actually hurt more than 5K races. I figured that couldn't possibly be true, given that every time I line up at the start of a 5K race, which I think has happened four times in my career, I wish it was a half marathon. I was not designed to redline for a short period of time, I don't enjoy that kind of hurt. However, I can somehow tolerate being moderately uncomfortable for extended periods of time, hence the long-course racing I usually opt for.

But this was on the bike. This wasn't running. Surely it couldn't possibly hurt more than the throat-stripping, heavy-breathing, leg-burning pain of going all-out for 3.1 miles.

I was wrong.

It hurt. A lot. A lot more than I ever imagined it could.

My pre-race rest week ended with a couple of incredibly easy days, topping out with a 1500-yard easy swim and a 30-minute easy bike ride on Saturday morning. These extremely shortened workouts also guaranteed me some extra sleep, including I believe a solid 10 hours on Friday night. So I certainly felt rested coming into Sunday. The nice part was that my heat wasn't until 1:00 in the afternoon, so there was even more extra sleep to be had.

After my pre-race "breakfast" I hit the road just after 11, bound for Boston. We were due for a bit of snow, but at the time the sky was merely overcast, so I decided to put my bike on the roof rather than play the game of Tetris that is trying to fit my 58 Cervelo in the trunk of my compact Nissan Sentra. Unfortunately, the further south I got, the messier things got. It was March, but it was snowing and it was cold. In the 20's, so it started out as a light, fluffy snow that just kind of blew all over the road. But the further south I got the messier things seemed to get. The roads were wet and I had to wonder if there was ice, and of course the visibility was just great, given the road crud being kicked up by the tires of the cars driving in front of me. I knew my bike was now being splattered with the mess, and contemplated stopping somewhere to put it in the car, but I figured the damage had been done and I might as well just get there.

After only one brief slip on the somewhat icy road I made it to Landry's Cyclery on Commonwealth Ave in Boston. Parking in Boston is free on Sundays and I actually managed to grab a spot pretty close as someone was pulling out. Not close enough to keep my fingers from freezing when I pushed the bike down the sidewalk, however.

The time trial had heats starting I believe as early as 7:20 in the morning, so by the time I got there, there were a whole lot of people there. I knew the time trial was supposed to be around 10K, but we didn't know what "course" we would be riding. I was informed upon entering that the course they had chosen was the last 6.4 miles of the Boston marathon, backwards. For those of you who are unaware, this meant that it was almost entirely uphill. This is not good news for current fatties such as myself who still have 20 pounds to lose and don't have a particularly good power-to-weight ratio going on at the moment. Oh, and my favorite thing right now is weigh-ins, especially on scales that add 3-4 pounds to what you really are. How is it that the scales at these things always weigh you heavy? And just so you know, this is not my own wishful thinking, everyone said it was heavy. Those few little pounds make a big difference when they enter that data into the trainer you will be riding and make your ride considerably more difficult than the riders around you while you struggle uphill.

So that fun part was over and I got to go around back to the parking garage that they had converted into a trainer-filled warm-up area. I found an empty one and spun away aimlessly, not really knowing what I had gotten myself into. I still thought it couldn't hurt more than a 5K. Ignorance is bliss. I spun for 20-30 minutes, I didn't really pay attention but more or less was just killing time. Finally we went inside as our heat approached. I somehow got coaxed into the "elite" wave. There was one other time that I had been convinced to do that: my only duathlon in 2007, where I came in front of only two other people in my wave - one who just happened to somehow be slower than me, and one who I had seen early in the race walking the opposite direction of the bike course pushing what was obviously some sort of mechanical failure. Needless to say, I do not enjoy elite waves. And in this case, we were talking about extraordinarily strong cyclists, mostly males. Great.

I found my slot and waited to get callibrated and set for my doom. Some guy came around and asked my weight again, which made me wonder why they had taken the trouble to write it down earlier when I had come in. Looking back, I probably should've lied. Nothing like telling strange men your weight when you are way too heavy in the middle of some of the fittest cyclists in the area. I didn't take a good look, but I am pretty sure I was the heaviest one in the wave, which did not bode well for the uphill ride. However, I still did not expect it to hurt nearly as much as it did. Nor did I expect it to take as long as it did.

We were lined up in two groups of 8 with a big screen in front of us showing our wattage and where on the course we were, miles per hour, how far behind, all of that fun stuff. We stopped pedaling for a minute and then they sent us off. I had been told what wattage to go off at, and I tried to hold it, but the wattage kept jumping between about a 30-watt span and I couldn't seem to settle in. It started out much easier than it ended, so my heart rate was only about 180 for a while. However, due to the uphill nature of the course the miles certainly were not ticking by as quickly as I might've hoped.

I had been focusing most of my attention on the wattage, trying to keep it where I was supposed to, and only after a few minutes did I take a moment to look up and realize that I was dead last. Great, not again. Running, sure, I'm used to that. But biking is supposed to be my strength. But anyway, I still had a long ways to go. Much further than I would've liked. The time went by incredibly slow. And the more time that passed, the more I lost the ability to think or see straight. My heart rate crept up as the hill grade increased. I thought it incredibly mean to make the time trial uphill. I was amazed at how long it was taking to get through the miles and rarely looked at the clock. Only occasionally did I glance at the top of the screen to see my little green bike guy indicating my spot on the course, so far behind everyone else's. Yes, I know, I was behind mostly men who can do 8-9-hour Ironmans, but it still isn't fun to be last.

I had finally reached the worst part of the hill that led us to the finish. My legs had nearly stopped working entirely. My wattage was dropping, my thighs were burning, my heart rate was 187, I'm pretty sure there was drooling, and I wanted nothing more than to give up and stop pedaling, but I still had what seemed like so far to go. I don't remember how long the others were finished before me, because I was only focused on getting through that stupid course. I stood up a few times, hoping that maybe a change in position might make my legs feel a little better, but that didn't help. I had actually lost feeling in my arms from the exertion as my heart rate had reached 190 and I still had a ways to go.

I shut my eyes and pushed, hoping for some sort of relief in my legs, but I had almost completely lost the ability to pedal entirely, just blown up and exhausted. I couldn't sprint to the finish. I couldn't go hard at all. I had nothing left. There were two of us left still going and the last maybe quarter-mile mercifully flattened out and I looked up at the screen waiting for it to end. I honestly have no idea what was going on around me, I just know that finally, when I was the last one to finish, I was elated that I could finally stop and let the intense burning in all of my extremities subside. I couldn't do anything but rest my head on my hands and try to catch my breath while my heart rate slowly came down and the burning very slowly subsided. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get up and make room for the 1:40 heat to take over.

Yes, that was far more painful than a 5K. I don't think I've ever drooled or had clouded vision in a 5K.

It took me somewhere around 22 minutes, I'm not really sure. Again, I was too delerious to pay much attention. I managed to get up and get back to the warm-up/cooldown area, but all of the trainers were taken. While I was waiting I started to waver a bit, but at least managed to stay on my feet. Considering the snow, I had a good excuse to just pack up and get out of there, which I did soon after. That was an incredibly taxing 22 minutes, and I would take a 6-hour ride any day over that.

I opted to stuff the bike in the trunk on the drive home, and this time the weather got better the further I went. By the time I got home it wasn't snowing at all. I put my bike back on my trainer and rode for 90 minutes, then went out for a 45-minute run. Well, it was a great first mile and a half. Then I just felt dizzy and sick and nauseous, as well as having an incredibly high heart rate for no apparent reason. I made it home anyway, a bit after dark, completely spent and ready for bed in spite of the fact that it was only 6:00. But at least I was done.

So that was my day. I hope at least the time trial will help boost my fitness a bit, although I am not going to lie and say that I'm not disappointed in how it went. I am the worst person at pacing, ever. But right now I'm a bit more preoccupied with the fact that we are in the middle of a blizzard which will give us likely at least a foot of new snow, if not more, and at this point I am just about ready to blow my brains out just to avoid dealing with more winter. I know, it's my own fault for living here, but I can only endure it for so long. I'd like to maybe someday actually ride my bike outside. At least there are no rides or runs scheduled for today, although my swim is being postponed since I can't get there just yet. It'll happen eventually, I just have to wait for the snow to lighten up... which might never happen.

Ugh, it's supposed to make me stronger, right?