Ironic

Yesterday I spent 3 hours on the indoor trainer.  The outside weather was ideal: 70's, sunny, little wind, very little traffic.  So why did I train indoors?

Ever since we moved to the `mountains' I've found it `annoying' that I'd encounter descents that just go on forever.  There is a course that rises at 5-7% for 5 miles but thereafter it is a full 17 mile descent into the rock desert.  Another nearby course has a 9 mile continuous descent. 

On these descents my heart rate drops into the 70's.  As I'm descending I'm constantly harumphing about the wasted time, the lost opportunity to do something other than steer and deal with crosswinds.

Of course, when there are downs there are always ups.  And that is almost persuasive.

An irony has occurred in that I now find myself mixing some intense indoor work with the almost limitless variety and challenge of riding outdoors. 

Before we moved to the mountains I lived in the middle of gridlocked Chicago.  Even if the weather was great I'd have to spend an hour riding the bike through the city before I got to open road.  Or, I'd pack the bike onto my pickup and drive 45 minutes one way to hit the wonderful farm roads. 

I spent hours and hours on the CompuTrainer when I lived in Chicago. 

Training is not `going for a bike ride.'  There is a plan to it.  And training sessions are an integrated sequence of related activities that build strength, endurance and mental resilience. 

Yesterday's 3 hour indoor workout was a 12 on a 1-10 scale in terms of intensity and quality.  As most serious cyclists can testify a good indoor workout is about 2 - 3 times as taxing as an outdoor workout.  One hour indoors can equate to 2 -3 hours of outdoor work.

No downhills.  No traffic congestion.  No road impediments.  The following link to yesterday's indoor workout illustrates how one can really focus on the training task at hand:  3 Hours on the LeMond Revolution Indoor Trainer

The 24 hour time trial coming up is on flat terrain where I won't have the `luxury' of natural breaks afforded by downhill sections of my local mountainous terrain.  Except for bike handling skills afforded by roads and wind the indoor trainer `keeps the pressure on.'  The Garmin data above demonstrates how I interspersed increasing wattage demands with 5 minute `rests.'  Not possible in the mountains.  The intent is to test and build my capacity for uninterrupted, continuous effort / watts. 

In a few minutes I'll be on the indoor trainer again.  This time will be for 5 hours.  Much lower intensity level.  However, I'll also be able to experiment with a few ideas associated with hydration and carrying liquid fuel.  Another advantage of not being out on the road. 

And then, tomorrow, a long outdoor training session. 

What's the difference?

A while ago a wonderful bicycle shop entrepreneur and I had a conversation about `happiness.'  She's become happier of late because she and her husband have reduced family demands and now have more time for eachother.  And it showed: she glowed. 

She asked me if I were happy.  I didn't know.  Truly.  I've never known. 

There have been many, many times in my life when I've experienced joy and felt grateful for it.  But those experiences are - happily - transient. 

It's like having ice cream and cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Too much of `happy' dilutes things. 

Things?!

Yes.  `Things' like purpose. 

Purpose is more central to the experience of a meaningful existence to me than being happy. 

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So how, again, does this relate to bicycling?

I was out the door today at 6:30am and got back at 3:30am.  My neighbor saw me loading my bike on the car this morning.  As I was taking my bike off the car this afternoon he was returning from his job.  He gave me a sort of stunned quizzical look, like: "Have you been on the bike for 9 hours?"

Not on the bike for the whole 9 hours, no.  But I was all about the bike for 9 hours.  Over the course of an 82 mile 8,800 feet of climbing training ride I stopped several times to dial in the bike in preparation for a 24 hour time trial on dead flat terrain.  I needed to adjust the recline of the seat to gain the most aero position.  And then I needed to adjust the stem and handlebars so that they were comfortably within reach.  I must have made a dozen adjustments on the fly to dial things in.  It was very, very interesting.  I felt that I had made great progress.  And that is meaningful.

It felt good to be so productively engaged in this work of improving my skill and capacity as a cyclist.  In fact, it felt very much like my past work life as a clinical psychologist.  Or my past work life as a labor relations professional.  Or my past work life as the owner of an insurance brokerage agency.  I was working at something that had genuine meaning, was a big challenge, and required patience, persistence and significant sacrifice.

So, what is the difference between `now' and `then?' 

For one thing I have to carry this albatross of being what other people call `retired.'  It's a category, or pigeon-hole, into which many of us are swept.  Or, sadly, a pigeon-hole into which many of us sink into, not knowing how to initiate our own life. 

Am I `better' at cycling than I was 30 - 40 years ago?  Worse?  Is it due to age?  Is it due to more investment in training? 

I am better at cycling now.  Because I'm focused on it. 

I was better as a clinical psychologist then than before I was a clinical psychologist.  Because I was focused on it then. 

Same with the other work that I've done in my life. 

Actually, the statement that replaces the rhetorical question of `What is the difference?' is that there is no difference now.  I'm still putting intense energy and time into something important, rewarding and meaningful to me.  Purpose. 

So ... I'm `happy' to have not labeled myself as this or that.  I'm the same: focused, persistant and dedicated.