This has been an absolutely crazy, exciting and
disappointing week of workouts. I woke
up on Monday (NYE) to an email from Matt saying he had a stomach bug and was
basically hoping death would swoop in – so my easy ride on Monday was
beautiful, crisp, cool and somewhat lonely.
But it was a solid 16 miles out Pecos Road and back.
New Year’s Day, I took advantage of our last day off, by
hitting the trailhead and pushing out a nice 6 mile run on the Desert Classic
Trail. My legs felt super heavy the
whole time, but amazingly, I pushed through and finished in EXACTLY (to the
second) the same time as my PR the week prior.
(59:26)
After a nice day of rest, Matt emailed on Wednesday night
saying his bowels were back intact and he’d be able to head out for a short,
easy ride on Thursday morning. It was
good to have him back – and slow was the name of the game. We didn’t go far or fast, but it was nice to
be out there.
At some point during the workday on Thursday, Matt asked if
I was running the next morning. I think
I almost dropped my jaw – was Matt
thinking of running with me again? I
told him I had about 4-5 miles planned, since I had my last long run before the
½ planned over the weekend. He asked if
he might be able to join me and I was thrilled to have the company. It had really been some time since the two of
us actually ran together. Matt’s pace is better than mine by about
30-45 seconds/mile. But, as he is
building his mileage, hanging out around my comfort pace was a good idea.
However, Thursday night, I left working thinking I ought to
try to get to the Masters Swim class, again.
It had been a couple of weeks and I had learned a few new tricks from
Steve, my former spin instructor, so I knew I ought to finally sign up for the
class. I arrived at the gym around 6pm –
a full 30 minutes to get the paperwork out of the way before the class
started. Well, it only took about 5
minutes to complete the requisite paperwork, so I sat by the pool watching a
group of teens coached by one of the swim trainers (Mindy).
I watched and watched and watched as Mindy simulated being
in the water and what their strokes should look like. Then I watched the teens emulate what she was
telling them. I thought, “well, hell,
there’s the missing link.” I could see
this smooth stroke gliding into the water like a fish – and just like Steve
told me, elbow up by the ear, not wasting any motion back into the water,
smoothly.
At 6:30pm I introduced myself to Mike, the young swim
instructor and told him my plans to increase my time and endurance in the water
(predominantly in hopes that one day I might finish an IronMan – but for now so
that I can hit a decent time in the Leadman in April.) He showed me the board of drills and told me
to hit the water for 300 easy meters free-style. I obliged and practiced what I had just
learned from Mindy. It felt better –
smoother and swifter. I was liking this
new technique. It wasn’t so different
than my more recent technique, but there was simply something better about
it.
At the end of 300 meters, I popped up and looked at my watch
– 2:24/100 meters. 11 seconds faster
than my usual pace – YES!
Kickboard drills, mixed with free-style commenced and Mike had
me working on my kick to make me faster.
After my 6th or so drill, Mike looked at me and said, “there
is NOTHING wrong with your stroke – its beautiful.” It was then that I said, “REALLY? I just learned it from the prior instructor.” He was floored. I told him what I had previously done and
what I was doing now and he complimented me profusely on my adaptability in the
water. My times were better, I used
fewer strokes and my efficiently quotient improved a LOT. 2100 total meters later – I was feeling more
confident about my swimming than ever before.
Friday morning, Matt and I met for a 4.5 mile run. We chatted away for the entirety of the
run. Considering his lack of
road-running mileage recently, I kept commenting on how impressed I was that he
could hang with me. Our pace was right
around a 9 min/mile even with the hills and Matt was absolutely fine. I think we finished in a smidge over 40
minutes, putting us just under a 9 min/mile pace – and I remain impressed by
his ability to come back from the non-running-dead.
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| Extra cheesy smile - so please to have a running buddy! |
Saturday was to be our last long ride before the century, so
Matt had planned for us to do a group ride with the Phoenix Metro Bike
Club. They plan somewhere around 35 miles
and he thought it would be a good opportunity for me to understand what its
like to work with a larger, structured group.
I invited Josh and Aaron to join us and they were game. So, when I woke to an email from Matt saying
both of his kids had terribly scary fevers and were vomiting – I was laced with
fear.
I exchanged a couple of quick emails (you know, the
panicked, “what do I do, now” kind) and Matt assured me that I would manage
just fine without him. I could tell he
was nervous for me and he felt absolutely dreadful that he was not able to join
me – but we both knew the right thing for him to do was the stay home with the
kids.
The ride was, well – awful.
I hated 90% of it. I was tense
and stressed out the whole time. The
group of riders I was with for the first half of the ride were a disaster – not
paying attention to anything that wasn’t right in front of their tire. I thought surely someone would die on the
ride. The route had stoplights every ½ to
1 mile and it made me want to kill myself.
Sometimes (but rarely) we’d catch the light and be able to trudge
through, but for the most part, it was stop and go for 10+ miles in the
beginning. Bleh!
I’d lost Josh early on and remained with Aaron’s group for
the first ½ of the ride. I was pleased
to see that my hill work was FAR better than most of the riders – so as we
headed through the Foothills, I was in front for much of it. In fact, at one point no one knew where we
were going, so I found myself leading a group of about 15 riders through
Ahwatukee. I was excited and nervous –
since I had no idea where I was going.
The group met up at a gas station super close to my house –
and we had just enough time to take some Gu and water before we were off
again. Sadly, some jackass caught my
front tire as he made his way out of the gas station and I went down – HARD. Yep – ripped my riding pants and I am back to
scabrous-purple-colored legs. Lovely (sad face). I am fine, Mom! Just a little ego-damaged. The jackass didn’t even wince! Made me so mad.
The rest of the ride was pretty awful for me, as well. The fall put some distance between me and
Josh and Aaron – as well as relegated me to a less than fabulous group of
riders. They thought this was a social
hour and my 22-24 mph pacing was down to about 17-20 mph. I was in hell. At one point I asked one of the guys for the
rest of the route and it seemed pretty cut and dry – so I pulled ahead of that
messy, chatty group, and led the way for the next 10 miles or so. I could see the “A” group about a mile ahead
at one point and I found myself hoping for green lights. I got pretty lucky for a few, but then they
did too.
I did eventually catch up to the back end of the “A” group
about a mile before the finish – but by then I was pissy and frustrated. My final analysis was – these cyclists were
disrespectful, unobservant and too interested in the social aspect of riding to
get any real benefit from the outing. I
actually had to tell a guy that he was so unobservant (at one point) that I
found myself certain he had forgotten he was in a group and that he was
intentionally trying to kill anyone who got anywhere near him. It was just awful . I actually told Matt (via email) that I hated
him when the whole ride was over. I didn’t
mean it – but I had no other words of encouragement the moment I finished. I literally spent over 2 hours completely
tense and frustrated – I was nearly in tears for at least 45 minutes – and wrecked
every muscle in my body from being so tight for so long.
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| Aaron, Me and Josh (L-R) -- not sure exactly what happened to Aaron's shirt. |
Matt assures me that next weekend will be better. If its not, I am done with this group riding
bull-shit. I know that with
Mr-Calm-and-Encouraging at my side it will be a marked improvement over
yesterday.
So, what did I need to do to fix my endurance-brain? I needed to get up this morning and run the
entire Desert Classic trail. It would
make me whole again.
I have no great stories of coyotes or crazy mountain
bikers. I did have one guy, about 6.5
miles out tell me I was doing really great (not sure how he had a clue, since
we were running in opposite directions and he had no idea where I started and
where I’d end – but it was a lovely moment, regardless).
I can tell you that I hit the trail just before sunrise –
which meant I was given permission to see the pinks and the purples fill the
desert mountain skyline for a solid 30 minutes.
The chill in the air, mixed with the warm desert floor, made for
incredible fog in the distance at the base of the mountains. The fog laid low along the ground and the
mountains stood tall and picturesque above it.
I just love love love to have the opportunity to witness it. Its all about the timing, my friends.
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| 2 miles into the run - at sunrise. |
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| Happy, proud: 1:49 -- 11 mile trail to home |
I could feel the tight muscles of my calves with every step for several miles. The tense ride did not make for a relaxed, comfy run – but it didn’t stand in the way of hitting the hard ascents with a ferocity only a trail runner knows. As I hit my street I glanced at my watch – I was going to pull a sub-10-minute 11 mile run with 9.25 miles of trail. There is something about being able to tell you that – that brings me to tears. I am simply a different athlete today than I was even 6 months ago. I have the trails to thank for so much of it. They are my sun and my moon and everything in between.
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