One outdoor ride saved me from insanity

I have to admit it: This weekend, I hated pretty much everything about triathlon. I think the only thing that I didn't despise completely was the tasty chocolate chip peanut crunch Clif bar I ate on my long ride. Every other second of that 11-hour training weekend was pretty much misery.

Part of it was definitely my own fault, and I'm not just talking about in the very obvious way that I'm the idiot who signed up for my 11th Ironman and let my coach talk me into doing the one in the beginning of May when I have to train in New Hampshire. No, it was my fault because I decided that amidst all of the other training I had to do, I should finally squeeze in at least one day of skiing this winter, which up until then I hadn't been able to do. I really do enjoy skiing and even taught it full time in the last winter of my life that wasn't spent mostly Ironman training, so the thought of missing an entire winter wasn't that appealing. The weather was supposed to be good, the conditions looked decent, my dad asked me if I wanted to join him and a friend, so I said sure, why not?

So Friday morning began with a 4:30 wake up call. Not just because of the skiing, but because I had to squeeze in 4000 yards and a nice, hard 20x100 before showering, changing and driving north to the parents' lake house. The swim workout went well, and I was out of the pool at about 6:06am, on the road at 6:25, at the house at 7:30, back in the car at 8:00 and at the base of Loon Mountain at 8:45, on the gondola at 9am. And that was only the beginning.

There wasn't a cloud on the sky or more than a whisper of wind, and although they hadn't seen much snow in a while, the conditions were pretty darn good. After one run of feeling a bit tentative, I immediately remembered how much I like skiing, and, more accurately, like flying down hills at high speeds and started my best Lindsey Vonn impression for the remainder of the day. We were up and down non-stop until 12:30, when I realized that I had just gone 5 straight waking hours without eating or drinking, which never, ever happens, and needless to say was starving and incredibly thirsty. Oh, and I knew I had more training to get done, so we called it a day.

After a wonderful lunch of salad, chicken and broccolini (I wish more restaurants would serve that stuff, I love it) at some random restaurant in town that we were the only customers in, it was back to the lake. Oh, but now it was time to get out and run, so at 2:30, I hit the road for that. The good part about that was that I believe it was the first run of the year in which I did not have to wear gloves. I didn't waste much time after that before it was back in the car to drive home and get in my trainer ride. So at 6:30 Friday night, after a ridiculously long day, I was finally done.

The weather on Saturday was supposed to be pretty darn nice. Normally, I would probably have gone outside. I'm usually the last one to give up on riding outside in the fall and the first one to jump outside the minute the roads are barely passable. Well, one or two rides last fall that involved incredibly uncomfortable cold and having to stop at a friend's house to thaw my water bottles made me have to change my standards for riding outside, but Saturday's weather certainly qualified. The problem was, I was fairly certain that my bike just plain wasn't ready to deal with an outdoor ride just yet. Had I not finished everything so late on Friday, I might have had the strength to prep my bike for outdoor riding, but once I was finally clean and dry at 7pm it just didn't seem like it was going to happen. It was probably going to be fairly chilly much of the morning, when I'd be doing most of my riding and I wasn't sure if I'd want to deal with that. Also, I was fairly certain that after an intense day of skiing, my six-hour ride on Saturday might not go so well, and maybe I'd be better off on the trainer and not attempting to climb hills for the first time since November or maybe even October, I don't really remember.

I was right about that. I was on my bike earlier than I care to admit and I'd say it took me less than twenty minutes before I started wondering how in the world I was going to get through that ride. I've done enough of those long rides to know that they don't often get to me like that, and usually all I really need to do is get through the first half and then I'm fine. Saturday was nothing like that. I must've seriously considered just getting off the bike and forgetting about the whole thing at least a dozen times. I'd stop pedaling and sit there for a minute or two, telling myself that I was "riding down a hill." I'd think about how I'd done what seemed like a million of these long rides over the past 5 years, and surely stopping this one after three hours wasn't going to hurt. My heart rate was too low and my legs were too tired. Somehow, mercifully, the time always does manage to pass eventually, and somehow I did get through, but it wasn't pretty.

The problem now? I still had to run. Oh, crap. As I walked upstairs from the basement, again, I thought what could it hurt if I just skipped it? But like usual, I mindlessly changed into my run clothes, knowing that at least once I was dressed for it the chances were pretty good I'd actually go out and run. I checked my e-mail first, hoping that maybe someone had sent me an urgent message that needed a lengthy reply, but that didn't happen. The only thing left was to put on my shoes and go outside.

I ran about 20 steps and then stopped dead in the driveway. Again thinking, why am I doing this? I started walking back to the garage, made it about halfway, and then turned around and started running again, knowing that at the end of the day, I'd be much happier with myself if I just sucked it up and did it. I suppose I was right, but even the pleasant weather didn't do much to make me enjoy that run. All I know is there was sweet, sweet relief when I was done, and after my shower, I fell asleep on the couch for two hours.

Sunday was slightly better from a mental standpoint I guess, mostly because my bike ride was at such an easy effort and the sun was out for my long run, but the run kind of sucked and I had to stop at my old junior high to drink about a gallon of water from their water fountain a little more than halfway through. I guess I forgot that it's finally warm enough to carry a fuel belt without having to worry about basically sucking on ice since the bottles are frozen. Oh, and I absolutely could've sworn I had one gel left in my cabinet of sports nutrition. For the first time since 2005, I was completely out. Yeah, that didn't help either. I survived, and spent the rest of the day with my legs up.

Yesterday was the blessed recovery day with nothing but a swim. I slept until 6:30, which for me is kind of a big deal. I did my swim, didn't slip on the floor on the way there, and got to save my legs for today. Today was a great day. I don't even feel the need to talk about my swim and run workouts, which both went pretty typically. I just want to talk about riding my bike. I spent much of that 6-hour ride on Saturday wondering why I continue to torture myself like that year after year. What the heck is the point? Why am I not hanging out with my non-athlete friends, sleeping in and maybe meeting for greasy brunch at 11am and maybe going to the movies and eating giant tubs of popcorn? I was mentally shot. It's a crappy place to be, but it happens. The worst part about it was that I knew I really had no right to feel that way. As it stands, my life is headed in exactly the direction I had wanted it to go, so why was I so miserable?

The answer was simple: too much time in the basement watching bad movies. All I needed was to go outside. It took me some time to get my bike ready for outdoor riding which included changing the rear tire which had been nearly shredded after four months on the trainer, cleaning and lubing the chain which had gotten awfully squeaky after I sweat all over it 10-14 hours a week, and I figured adjusting the front brake, but that turned into just get ready to not use it at all because apparently at some point that cable had snapped. Oh, well, I could make it on a fairly short ride with only my rear brake. I only had to stop twice anyway. The rear cog shifter was incredibly sticky and I didn't really have use of all of my gears, but I couldn't have cared less. It was just so nice to be riding outside, and so much more gratifying to pedal my bike and actually go somewhere.

I felt like I was absolutely flying, and just like on skis, I enjoy going fast. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, it was a little windy, but it was about 50 degrees and it just felt fantastic. Even a couple of little things, like wearing my favorite sunglasses which had been lost for over a year but finally found, and wearing the new jersey I had forgotten that I'd bought in November at the Pearl Izumi outlet but hadn't yet had a chance to use. That ride absolutely saved me. I spent the last couple of weeks wondering why I do this, and I had forgotten that when you're not stuck pedaling nowhere in your basement doing what I like to call "pretend training" it can actually be pretty fun. First ride out, 20mph average. Now, I've certainly gone that fast in training before, but the first ride out is usually more in the 16-17mph range, so needless to say I guess I was a little excited to be out there. I have done zero hard bike workouts (the exception being that indoor time trial a few weeks ago) because we're focusing on doing extra hard run workouts due to my suckiness in that regard. Why does running not come that naturally? Eh, who cares, I'm just glad that outdoor riding is here! Bike is in the shop now, getting all fixed up so I have all of my brakes and all of my gears. Can't wait to do it again. It was just what I needed just in the nick of time.