The Hotel Bike

As sweat slowly falls from my cap like the first rain drop of a summer downpour.  Falling down to its conclusion on the base of the bike, it explodes in to a wave of drops in every direction. It is then that I chuckle to myself at the situation in which I am yet again compelled to. The excessively wide seat. The awkwardly placed pedals. The attempt at aerobars jutting up and in to the air at a particularly awkward angle. Yet, the hotel bike is what's for dinner. No other choice but to get on and be violated by that saddle. 

There is a love/hate type relationship between myself and hotel gyms. I imagine it to be similar to the ever disappointing favourite sports team who eternally disappoint you, but you continue to return to them like a loyal dog each week. Every week the hunt is on to find a place with a bike trainer with a narrow saddle and a good display with the basics. So often the prize isn't found and the key card is inserted in to the gym's lock. The door slowly opens and reveals that creaky old bike. A small sigh later and I hop up and begin the mornings ride. 

I don't think I have ever been so driven by the idea of a workout to be completed as when I find myself on such a machine. The sweet relief that ensues when dismounting this animal with a newly shaped arse can be very satisfying, tinged with the knowledge that next week will undoubtedly provide another hotel gym experience. 

With a joyous and ever welcome recovery week in full flow, the wide saddled, awkward and uncomfortable hotel bike session was more forgiving this time around. A look forward to next week presents the ever ominous title of "IM Hard". Two weeks of unforgiving and relentless volume and then the welcoming views of "taper" come in to view. The week gets shorter and the fatigue gets better. 

A quick look at the digital date brightly presented on my phone, jutting out like a flashing neon sign, suddenly seems a bit more significant now. A little over 5 weeks to go and the start line at the edge of Lake Couer D'Alene will lie right in front of us with the longest day ahead. 

Good luck to us all!

Different stages of a long session

There are times during a long, arduous, less than impressive bike or run when your psyche becomes a whole different animal. A point when you even surprise yourself with your not-so-proud thoughts. This would be the "everyone's an a-hole" phase. 

Part of a 5 phase process, the aforementioned phase 3 is preceded by the following. 

There's phase 1 - the "Rocky Balboa" phase. You start out on the, let's say, long bike. 6 hours ahead of you and aboard your trusty stead you feel invincible, like Rocky walking towards the ring with only Mr T to beat. The end of the ride seems far far away, but the legs are fresh and the crotch far from completely crushed at this point. The sun spreads its subtle morning rays across your back and the world seems a great place today. Perhaps a smile finds it's way to your face or even a courtesy wave to your fellow early risers. (Constitution finds it hard to leave this phase)

Phase 2 - the "acceptance you may not be Rocky Balboa" phase. This second phase everything isn't quite lost. Your may have lost that slight spring in your step but you are all warmed up and feel as though a nice healthy sweat is beginning to pool just above your seat and you accept that this is what you expected. A tough day. A day, though, when you can still have a rye smile to you fellow cyclist with a gentle wave across the road or even a slight nod of the head. "That's right my friend of the road, it's great to be out isn't it??"  

The aforementioned phase 3 normally creeps up on you around halfway. Perhaps you forgot to eat a little or went out a little hard during your invincible first phase. It's irrelevant because no matter who even glances in your general direction, they're an asshole. Inexplicably yet decidely so. Your blood sugar is in a deep cavanous hole which you are attempting to dig out of. What has been left is an angry biker who believes they could not possibly do any wrong. They feel angelic in their own eyes, but outside their bubble everyone is the devil. Grrrrr!

They could be the most innocent of gentle folk but you will find something wrong with them. 

Fortunately, this phase doesn't last long. It's often quickly replaced by phase 4, once you have attempted to guzzle down what mashed up food you have overheating off your back pocket. The "okay, I can do this" phase can be a bit of a roller coaster. It often begins with a surge of euphoria founded in the trenches of phase 3 and sprung over the top as you climb back out of the dull drums. You feel reawakened and emboldened by this new feeling. You're friends with everyone again. This can quickly be replaced by fatigue of a new level. Easily forgotten from last year, you can't imagine how you did this before. You know you did, but surely it didn't feel like this. Yet, you plug away knowing that the last phase is ever closer with each step or peddle stroke. You flip back and forth, up and down, until the last phase comes in to view. 

Phase 5 - "gonna make it!"  

Usually founded in the last hour of the session, you are tired and food and drink have almost been exhausted, but you are elated that the end is nigh. Soon you will be yelping in pain in the shower as you discover exactly where parts of the body were chaffing and how bad. However, you will be off that bike, or no longer running and that feeling is the one that takes you over the line...... until 7 days from now when you have to do it all over again!

Good luck to us all!

Cinquo de just do hills

As we find ourselves on yet another "holiday" in America in celebration of another country's independence (insert joke here) I find myself reflecting on the year so far, with a GMO free margarita in hand. 

What particularly comes to mind is Constitution's old favorite. Just do hills! Lots of hills. In fact, every time a hill looms on my vision's horizon a small menacing chuckle pops in to the psyche with his mantra echoing in my fatigued mind. 

What does he mean with this old classic? It's his way of teasing every publication touting the same repetitive guff in each edition. In almost every edition the editors profess to have found the key to "PR" in your next race and almost every time there will be reference to hills. Just do hills! On our long ride the other week Constitution decided he was releasing a new ground breaking magazine and his lead article would be "just eat greens", swiftly followed by "just do hills". 

So what's the point? I'll get to it. So often we  fret over getting it just right or having just the right equipment with the leading widgets and gadgets (I am no exception to this rule). However, ultimately, this is all quite unnecessarily complicated. Just get out there and, to borrow a phrase, do it! Or, as Napoleon loves to say "don't over think it". When the long weeks full of volumous amounts of training begin to set in, just getting out there and getting the job done is key to it all. We could all waste copious amounts of valuable minutes prepping extensively for a long ride - quite frankly, being prepared is in my DNA - however, you could simply throw some food in the back pockets and head out the door for 6 hours. It may not develop in to the greatest training ride in a triathletes life, but the job will be done. None of our group is a world record prospect, or anywhere near winning anything from these races. The within reach goal that we hope for is simply coming down that finish chute with a smile on our faces and the crowd's raucous cheering ringing in our ears. 

So, to recap, just do hills. Just eat greens. Brilliant, now pay me loads of money for that advice and my life will be sorted!

Training recap. The volume is headed to its highest levels for this training. 6 hour rides are a fixture for the next few weeks. Long loops around the beautiful Minneapolis/St Paul metropolitan area, followed by some dehydrating, languid loops around the lakes on foot. 

The hip is mending in the nick of time. A productive visit to the Ortho Doc ensued yesterday. A diagnosis of just do hills wasn't exactly what they said, but she did indeed give me the golden stamp to keep training with a focus on strengthening my, as it turns out, somewhat weak derrière. My regrettable teasing of my wife doing Denise Austin exercises in front of the TV has come back to haunt me. As I perused the the leaflet of exercises recommended to me by sporty doc, no fewer than 8 of the 10 movements are the very same that my nearest and dearest completes every week. She was admirably restraint in her "I told you so's" and was quite eager to demonstrate the moves. I now have a new strength coach :)

This week started well with a good swim yesterday. Last week wasn't too much to write home about but a solid set of sessions nonetheless. Progress is good. I'm sure the oh-so-familiar fatigue will crop up on my shoulder soon enough. However, we are prepared this year. Embrace the fatigue. Welcome it to your world. It's all part of the experience. 

To finish, just a quick update to fundraising efforts. The progress has slowed a little, but is still marching forward at a steady, army like pace. A fresh push towards £2,000 mark is required and will be enacted over the next few weeks. If you are reading this and are being overwhelmed by the urge to donate, feel free to rush to my fundraising page at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/cliffsironman. I hope to get back in July and visit the cricket ground where it all began for me as a cricketer. First, scoring the game as a young 12 yr old, receiving manic arm gestures from the umpires and having my shoulder looked over continuously by anxious batsman wanting to see how their averages have faired. Then, progressing in to the adult team in my 14th year (they must have been short). My one and only century I have ever bothered the scorers with was with Frieth CC. Can't wait to watch a game there in the brilliant British summer sun.

Good luck to us all!