I live in Prescott, AZ. The `flattest' training course I can find is 27 miles and 1,500 feet of climbing.
Last year I rode only 7,100 miles but climbed 570,000 feet. At this point in 2013 I've ridden 2,080 miles and climbed 112,000 feet. I'm trying to do more miles this year while not pushing the million feet climbed mark. In other words, my location doesn't allow me NOT to climb a lot.
For long steady miles of climbing 3% - 5% grades do your best to find a low gear that allows you to remain aerobic. Your goal should be to complete the long climb with plenty of energy remaining for the rest of the ride.
On short steep climbs there are a few things to consider. If the grade is (in my case) between 12 - 15%, and only 20 - 30 yards long I gear down to my lowest gear and employ both high spinning rpms and watch my speed. If my speed gets below 4.5 mph I know I'm risking wobbling and will consider walking up the hill. I allow my heart rate to increase, knowing it will be very temporary.
On rolling terrain I try to use accelerate my speed and let inertia take me up as much of the next roller as possible. And then I just assess how much I need to gradually increase watts/power while gearing down into lower gears. Always a judgment call as to the ultimate length of the course and how strong my legs are.
On long rides involving a variety of flats, rollers, short hills and steep climbs (not to mention switchbacks with 22% corners) I have to measure out my effort so that I don't get destroyed by being overly aggressive on the climbs. And then, of course, there is the issue of `headwind' or `tailwind.' And the heat.
Yesterday 80.2 miles 7,240 feet I was fortunate to have a 15-20 mph tailwind climbing a 9 mile long 4-9% grade section of road. I was faster climbing and my heart rate was manageable. Sadly, that was a rare exception. I'm usually grinding up that grade much more slowly.
In my case, and only because I don't have much of a choice, I've gotten stronger legs and hips. Because of that I'm pretty good at climbing both short and long. But I learned, of course, how to do this slowly and with lots of sloppy rides. That is, I'd go too fast, climb too hard, and find myself depleted of energy over the last half or so of the ride.
Some times I'll ride a course of long miles of relatively short rollers (2 - 4%). Given that I always get a chance to `rest' on the downhill sections I'll hammer. With time and experience it is a reasonable thing to do. And it's lots of fun, esp with a strong tailwind.
FWIW I weigh around 185-190 lbs, train with weight (lots of water, sometimes 3 seasons worth of clothes because of the frequent changes in altitude), and am 67. I don't really know what being 67 means in terms my ability and performance because I never did this crazy ultra stuff when I was younger. I can only guess that if I put the same effort and intensity into Ultracycling when I was younger I would have produced better results.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
More on motivation ...
(I ride without music. Part of it has to do with safety. Part of it has to do with the fact that, after a while, it's like chewing dead chewing gum. At least half my reason for no music is because I get a chance to think about things.)
Yesterday, on an 8 hour ride, a few things came together for me about my own motivation.
I entered three 24 hour races in the past 12 months and finished none of them. If nothing else, I spent a lot of money traveling places just to DNF.
I didn't feel the least bit `bad' about DNF'ing three big events in a row. THAT is what really got me thinking about motivation.
Why did I put all that time and money into something that, when I DNF'd, it wasn't a problem?
On two of the 24 hour events my DNF was, what I consider, `legitimate. That is I didn't have the physical resources to finish (another story). However, this last February was different. I stopped after 14 hours because `it wasn't worth it.'
Not `worth' it?!
And no sense of disappointment in myself after DNF'ing?!
Here is where you, the reader, may want to stop reading. Although this is about `motivation' it has to do with MY motivation. Maybe generalizable to you. Maybe not.
-----------
Work in process. That's how I consider myself these days.
First, I've learned not to be so vulnerable to other's opinion of me or my actions. We can call it many things but `maturity' is probably the most accurate.
Second, my own temperament. We each have a `temperament' and psychological research suggests that there is a great deal of heritability to temperament. I have a low tolerance for most people, despite my profession. When younger I tended to try to change people. Now, older and more mature, I realize that is disrespectful and pointless.
Finally, I am concerned about what only a very few people think of me or my actions. (And, if their opinion of me is based on my cycling performance ... we've both made a mistake).
--
Several years ago I gave an interview about why I was doing the Race Across the West - RAW (which I ultimately didn't finish). The interviewer stated that it was a certainty that I would finish. I corrected him, stating that "if I knew I could do it I wouldn't." ?!!
RAW, to me, was an unanswered question. Did I have it in me to finish? I found out that I did not have sufficient training to finish. The lesson was that Ultracycling is harder than I thought. And if I wanted to be successful at it I would have to devote more time and resources to training.
I subsequently put in more time and devoted more resources to my training. I completed a few events (including a 24 hour race) that had never been before on a recumbent.
More important, however, I learned what it takes to successfully complete significant Ultracycling events.
--
The 24 hour event that I ended after 14 hours because it wasn't `worth it' confirmed to me what I said several years earlier: If I knew I could do it I wouldn't. I knew that I could successfully complete the 24 hour event. So I stopped when the `pain v. benefit' equation became apparent.
Why, then, did I devote so much time and effort to the 24 hour event?
--
So this is what I have learned about myself, so far.
What a surprise.
Surprised because I recognized that the core source of motivation for me is consistent: Only a challenge that is mammoth, the outcome of which I am uncertain, is `worth it.' ("If I knew I could do it I wouldn't.")
Surprised that I was interested in the people of the event. A `social' appeal?! This realization is counter to all the psychological defenses I have built to keep from being hurt by other's opinion of me. It counters my `hermit' temperament.
--
So, what am I going to do differently, now that I have conscious awareness of the topography of my motivation?
Well, first, I'm going to admit that I am more social than I have allowed. Deconstructing some defenses is scary, but `worth it.'
Then I'm going to be more careful about choosing cycling challenges. It turns out that I live in a location that has no end to cycling challenges. Is it `worth it' to me to attempt these challenges knowing that social approval and prestige are unlikely to be gained? A `private' challenge.
Then there is, for me, the moral component of this. Training for and spending money on events that I ultimately don't really care about has implications.
An intense training plan means that I short-change family and friends. When I'm training I'm absent. When I'm not training I'm tired and not much of a friend or husband.
Money is not for free. Without going into detail it is a moral `thing' for me to not `waste' money that other people deservedly need. Hotels, gasoline and road food ... these are not socially appropriate uses of money.
Yesterday, on an 8 hour ride, a few things came together for me about my own motivation.
I entered three 24 hour races in the past 12 months and finished none of them. If nothing else, I spent a lot of money traveling places just to DNF.
I didn't feel the least bit `bad' about DNF'ing three big events in a row. THAT is what really got me thinking about motivation.
Why did I put all that time and money into something that, when I DNF'd, it wasn't a problem?
On two of the 24 hour events my DNF was, what I consider, `legitimate. That is I didn't have the physical resources to finish (another story). However, this last February was different. I stopped after 14 hours because `it wasn't worth it.'
Not `worth' it?!
And no sense of disappointment in myself after DNF'ing?!
Here is where you, the reader, may want to stop reading. Although this is about `motivation' it has to do with MY motivation. Maybe generalizable to you. Maybe not.
-----------
Work in process. That's how I consider myself these days.
First, I've learned not to be so vulnerable to other's opinion of me or my actions. We can call it many things but `maturity' is probably the most accurate.
Second, my own temperament. We each have a `temperament' and psychological research suggests that there is a great deal of heritability to temperament. I have a low tolerance for most people, despite my profession. When younger I tended to try to change people. Now, older and more mature, I realize that is disrespectful and pointless.
Finally, I am concerned about what only a very few people think of me or my actions. (And, if their opinion of me is based on my cycling performance ... we've both made a mistake).
--
Several years ago I gave an interview about why I was doing the Race Across the West - RAW (which I ultimately didn't finish). The interviewer stated that it was a certainty that I would finish. I corrected him, stating that "if I knew I could do it I wouldn't." ?!!
RAW, to me, was an unanswered question. Did I have it in me to finish? I found out that I did not have sufficient training to finish. The lesson was that Ultracycling is harder than I thought. And if I wanted to be successful at it I would have to devote more time and resources to training.
I subsequently put in more time and devoted more resources to my training. I completed a few events (including a 24 hour race) that had never been before on a recumbent.
More important, however, I learned what it takes to successfully complete significant Ultracycling events.
--
The 24 hour event that I ended after 14 hours because it wasn't `worth it' confirmed to me what I said several years earlier: If I knew I could do it I wouldn't. I knew that I could successfully complete the 24 hour event. So I stopped when the `pain v. benefit' equation became apparent.
Why, then, did I devote so much time and effort to the 24 hour event?
--
So this is what I have learned about myself, so far.
- My real motive for the race was `social.'
- I wanted to meet the people I had communicated with for years but never `saw.'
- I wanted to spend time with a few old friends I missed.
- I wanted to see the 24 hour course that so many people had talked about.
What a surprise.
Surprised because I recognized that the core source of motivation for me is consistent: Only a challenge that is mammoth, the outcome of which I am uncertain, is `worth it.' ("If I knew I could do it I wouldn't.")
Surprised that I was interested in the people of the event. A `social' appeal?! This realization is counter to all the psychological defenses I have built to keep from being hurt by other's opinion of me. It counters my `hermit' temperament.
--
So, what am I going to do differently, now that I have conscious awareness of the topography of my motivation?
Well, first, I'm going to admit that I am more social than I have allowed. Deconstructing some defenses is scary, but `worth it.'
Then I'm going to be more careful about choosing cycling challenges. It turns out that I live in a location that has no end to cycling challenges. Is it `worth it' to me to attempt these challenges knowing that social approval and prestige are unlikely to be gained? A `private' challenge.
Then there is, for me, the moral component of this. Training for and spending money on events that I ultimately don't really care about has implications.
An intense training plan means that I short-change family and friends. When I'm training I'm absent. When I'm not training I'm tired and not much of a friend or husband.
Money is not for free. Without going into detail it is a moral `thing' for me to not `waste' money that other people deservedly need. Hotels, gasoline and road food ... these are not socially appropriate uses of money.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Role of `Anger' in Motivation
Anger is kerosene looking for a match.
Anger is `ready, FIRE, aim.'
In my private practice I'd tell my patients that `comparing yourself to others is the road to hell.' Some of us spend our life struggling to the summit of a steep climb only to discover another steep climb to another summit. And on and on.
It isn't surprising, then, to find so many feeling overwhelmed to the point of giving up.
A more considered view of `motivation' involves asking ourselves what we really desire, value, `want.' To let other's opinions of us to bleed into what we think of ourselves ... is the road to hell.
Ultracycling, I've stated elsewhere, is a humility training machine. When we try difficult things we discover strengths and limits. The term `limits,' however is elastic. The All-Terrain Human When we `stop' an activity it is usually a conscious decision rather than a physical depletion.
Twice, that I'm aware of (i.e., conscious of) in the past several months I've found myself doing things I would not have done had I not had an almost blinding sense of `anger.'
The first occurred while riding the bike through a completely desolate and empty Arizona canyon terrain. "The Beast"
Most recently I was descending a straight road with a good shoulder at 35 mph. Suddenly, a barely noticeable rumble strip appeared alongside an equally unnoticeable patch of small gravel. I skimmed the rumble strip, turning into the gravel patch and started to wobble, preceding a potentially messy `go down.'
Having had some pretty spectacular wipe-outs in this mountainous terrain over the past year and a half ... I got really angry!!
My anger `motivated' me to be determined NOT to go down. From an initial speed of 35 mph I wrestled with the slipping and sliding bike until I was doing less than 3 or 4 mph before I `decided' to accede to gravity and physics. When I did go down I didn't slide or hit the pavement with force. I literally just `laid down.' No road rash. No scratches or damage to the bike. And I immediately got to my feet.
Fear and anger use the same `wiring' in our brain. However, fear often results in `flight,' while anger often results in `fight. But, of course, it's not that simple.
Either of the fight or flight `reactions' can keep us alive. And here is where comes the distinction between a `reaction' and a `response.'
A reaction bypasses that part of us that makes us different from lower primates, i.e,, a prefrontal cortex (or forehead). (Threat > fear > reaction (flight/fight).)
The desired outcome is safety but that isn't always what happens. A `reaction' doesn't get run through our thinking brain. A `response' does.
Paleolithic (stone-age) man used to hunt large game by forming a group and then `spooking' the large game (buffalo, elephants, etc) into running off a cliff. The large game were reacting, i.e., not thinking about the possibility that they were going to be killed by a `gravity attack.'
A better response for the large game would be to look at their previous experience, compare it to the current threat, and decide what was the action that would lead to their safety. (Threat > fear/anger > thinking about what worked in the past > comparing the past to the present circumstance > a thoughtful response.)
But buffalo don't have a prefrontal cortex / forehead.
Anger, in my situation, seems to have got my `thinking' process activated to perform a series of actions that improved the odds of my safety.
But be careful.
I'm thinking, these days, how I can step back a bit to see what `lever' in my psyche that anger pulls. (I think it has to do with a mental `rehearsal' of all that could go wrong in an upcoming event so that I can plan to avoid it or minimize harm if and when the threat occurs).
So, I'm not hoping to unleash my `anger' as a tool for self-protection. Rather, I'm stepping back and using previous experience to anticipate danger. Without the `kerosene' of raging emotion.
Anger is `ready, FIRE, aim.'
In my private practice I'd tell my patients that `comparing yourself to others is the road to hell.' Some of us spend our life struggling to the summit of a steep climb only to discover another steep climb to another summit. And on and on.
It isn't surprising, then, to find so many feeling overwhelmed to the point of giving up.
A more considered view of `motivation' involves asking ourselves what we really desire, value, `want.' To let other's opinions of us to bleed into what we think of ourselves ... is the road to hell.
Ultracycling, I've stated elsewhere, is a humility training machine. When we try difficult things we discover strengths and limits. The term `limits,' however is elastic. The All-Terrain Human When we `stop' an activity it is usually a conscious decision rather than a physical depletion.
Twice, that I'm aware of (i.e., conscious of) in the past several months I've found myself doing things I would not have done had I not had an almost blinding sense of `anger.'
The first occurred while riding the bike through a completely desolate and empty Arizona canyon terrain. "The Beast"
Most recently I was descending a straight road with a good shoulder at 35 mph. Suddenly, a barely noticeable rumble strip appeared alongside an equally unnoticeable patch of small gravel. I skimmed the rumble strip, turning into the gravel patch and started to wobble, preceding a potentially messy `go down.'
Having had some pretty spectacular wipe-outs in this mountainous terrain over the past year and a half ... I got really angry!!
My anger `motivated' me to be determined NOT to go down. From an initial speed of 35 mph I wrestled with the slipping and sliding bike until I was doing less than 3 or 4 mph before I `decided' to accede to gravity and physics. When I did go down I didn't slide or hit the pavement with force. I literally just `laid down.' No road rash. No scratches or damage to the bike. And I immediately got to my feet.
Fear and anger use the same `wiring' in our brain. However, fear often results in `flight,' while anger often results in `fight. But, of course, it's not that simple.
Either of the fight or flight `reactions' can keep us alive. And here is where comes the distinction between a `reaction' and a `response.'
A reaction bypasses that part of us that makes us different from lower primates, i.e,, a prefrontal cortex (or forehead). (Threat > fear > reaction (flight/fight).)
The desired outcome is safety but that isn't always what happens. A `reaction' doesn't get run through our thinking brain. A `response' does.
Paleolithic (stone-age) man used to hunt large game by forming a group and then `spooking' the large game (buffalo, elephants, etc) into running off a cliff. The large game were reacting, i.e., not thinking about the possibility that they were going to be killed by a `gravity attack.'
A better response for the large game would be to look at their previous experience, compare it to the current threat, and decide what was the action that would lead to their safety. (Threat > fear/anger > thinking about what worked in the past > comparing the past to the present circumstance > a thoughtful response.)
But buffalo don't have a prefrontal cortex / forehead.
Anger, in my situation, seems to have got my `thinking' process activated to perform a series of actions that improved the odds of my safety.
But be careful.
I'm thinking, these days, how I can step back a bit to see what `lever' in my psyche that anger pulls. (I think it has to do with a mental `rehearsal' of all that could go wrong in an upcoming event so that I can plan to avoid it or minimize harm if and when the threat occurs).
So, I'm not hoping to unleash my `anger' as a tool for self-protection. Rather, I'm stepping back and using previous experience to anticipate danger. Without the `kerosene' of raging emotion.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
A `Common Man' Perspective on Ultracycling
I spent the day yesterday glued to a chair and a computer ... like any good ultracyclist.
I don't really like `riding' a bike. Like, `riding' through pastoral settings on a sunny day, just breathing in the scenery and delight. Boring. Too much work. Uncomfortable. I'd feel guilty for not doing something `productive.' I don't DO `joy.'
I'd rather be home watching `Bourne' reruns and drinking beer.
Most of my birth family is dead. And they should be. At least, speaking from a `lifestyle' perspective, they should be dead. Smoking, drugs, alcohol, reckless risk-taking and physical violence. Most people reading this are already nodding their heads in personal agreement. It's not like `dysfunctional families' are uncommon. In fact, in our cultures they're the norm.
Cycling is a `healthy' thing. It distracts me from depressing rumination. It's relatively inexpensive. It affords me the convenience of a passable excuse for not being more sociable. And depression, hangovers and feeling fat, weak and unhealthy are things I don't have to deal with. (Does that mean I'm avoiding a fully engaged life? Absolutely. Aren't we all! Jesus! What a tyranny to be `the best we can be.' Gag!!)
Back to ultracycling.
More than a few top-ranked ultracyclists are rich. Rich enough so that `making a living' doesn't take much time or energy. And they do what most people do: `Y'a gotta stay busy.'
More than a few really good ultracyclists compress two lives into one by shorting sleep, relationships, career/job development, family. They are as fanatical about living a `balanced' life as they are about ultracycling. And, of course, that's impossible. And, of course, `denial' is a big part of their reality.
And then there are the annoying few who are simply gifted with talent. They don't read my blog because they're lazy, busy with sleep, or playing video games in the dark on a smelly stained couch in their parent's basement (at age 40).
I kept waking up last night doing `cost/time/effort' analyses between two ultracycling options in April. Option # 1 is to do a 24 hour solo event in my own `back yard.' Option # 2 is to do a 600K brevet in Tucson, 5 hours and 250 miles south of me.
Money: Option #1 will cost me ... nothing. Option #2 will cost me gas, 3 nights in a motel, road food ... totaling about $350 bucks.
Time: Option # 1 will take about 30 hours, total. Option # 2 will take 3.5 days.
Relationships: #1, not much. In fact, my wife and the few friends I have (I'm `good' but I'm not `nice') will probably want to be involved to some degree. #2, mostly strangers to me. And on brevets and other ultracycling things I tend to ride my own pace (which is either slower or faster, but never in a group). When I'm not riding I tend to be either impatient or sort'a gruff. Or both. I like to be alone a lot. (Maybe I'm an introvert. But more likely I'm just temperamentally a grouch, often offending people with my blunt ways, unconcerned about approval or fitting in).
Being Productive: #1. You bet! Confronting challenges that are meaningful to me. #2. I'd probably come back feeling like I wasted time and money, and neglected important relationships. And only afterwords would I admit: who couldn't ride 360 miles in two days, stopping frequently and spending the night sleeping in a comfy bed?!!
I'm not much different than most people. Except that I've made it my occupation to find that out.
So that's why I used the term `Common Man' in the title of this post.
I don't really like `riding' a bike. Like, `riding' through pastoral settings on a sunny day, just breathing in the scenery and delight. Boring. Too much work. Uncomfortable. I'd feel guilty for not doing something `productive.' I don't DO `joy.'
I'd rather be home watching `Bourne' reruns and drinking beer.
Most of my birth family is dead. And they should be. At least, speaking from a `lifestyle' perspective, they should be dead. Smoking, drugs, alcohol, reckless risk-taking and physical violence. Most people reading this are already nodding their heads in personal agreement. It's not like `dysfunctional families' are uncommon. In fact, in our cultures they're the norm.
Cycling is a `healthy' thing. It distracts me from depressing rumination. It's relatively inexpensive. It affords me the convenience of a passable excuse for not being more sociable. And depression, hangovers and feeling fat, weak and unhealthy are things I don't have to deal with. (Does that mean I'm avoiding a fully engaged life? Absolutely. Aren't we all! Jesus! What a tyranny to be `the best we can be.' Gag!!)
Back to ultracycling.
More than a few top-ranked ultracyclists are rich. Rich enough so that `making a living' doesn't take much time or energy. And they do what most people do: `Y'a gotta stay busy.'
More than a few really good ultracyclists compress two lives into one by shorting sleep, relationships, career/job development, family. They are as fanatical about living a `balanced' life as they are about ultracycling. And, of course, that's impossible. And, of course, `denial' is a big part of their reality.
And then there are the annoying few who are simply gifted with talent. They don't read my blog because they're lazy, busy with sleep, or playing video games in the dark on a smelly stained couch in their parent's basement (at age 40).
I kept waking up last night doing `cost/time/effort' analyses between two ultracycling options in April. Option # 1 is to do a 24 hour solo event in my own `back yard.' Option # 2 is to do a 600K brevet in Tucson, 5 hours and 250 miles south of me.
Money: Option #1 will cost me ... nothing. Option #2 will cost me gas, 3 nights in a motel, road food ... totaling about $350 bucks.
Time: Option # 1 will take about 30 hours, total. Option # 2 will take 3.5 days.
Relationships: #1, not much. In fact, my wife and the few friends I have (I'm `good' but I'm not `nice') will probably want to be involved to some degree. #2, mostly strangers to me. And on brevets and other ultracycling things I tend to ride my own pace (which is either slower or faster, but never in a group). When I'm not riding I tend to be either impatient or sort'a gruff. Or both. I like to be alone a lot. (Maybe I'm an introvert. But more likely I'm just temperamentally a grouch, often offending people with my blunt ways, unconcerned about approval or fitting in).
Being Productive: #1. You bet! Confronting challenges that are meaningful to me. #2. I'd probably come back feeling like I wasted time and money, and neglected important relationships. And only afterwords would I admit: who couldn't ride 360 miles in two days, stopping frequently and spending the night sleeping in a comfy bed?!!
I'm not much different than most people. Except that I've made it my occupation to find that out.
So that's why I used the term `Common Man' in the title of this post.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
2013
Should be a good year for cycling. Lot's of major life change issues (retirement, selling house, relocating, renovating new house, scoping out banks needing to be robbed to pay for all of this, etc.) were resolved in '11 and '12.
2012 cycling was mostly restricted to riding in the mountains. Seven-thousand miles and 670,000 feet of climbing. So, that proved to me that `this' 'bent can climb. But there are `downsides' to training almost exclusively in the mountains.
Going to try to stay more local in `big' event rides and races this year. (Unless I win that lottery).
A few tentative events in the schedule:
Recently put together a set of local training courses that don't include constant mountain grades. Combining mountain training and flat-ish land training will increase miles and decrease feet climbed. But, such a training demographic should prepare me better for the events noted.
This constitutes both the mountain and the flat training terrain in my neck of the woods. Can it be any better?!
Pioneer Parkway to Hwy 69
Hwy 69/Fain Rd to I-17
Skull Valley Loop - White Spars - Very Difficult
2012 cycling was mostly restricted to riding in the mountains. Seven-thousand miles and 670,000 feet of climbing. So, that proved to me that `this' 'bent can climb. But there are `downsides' to training almost exclusively in the mountains.
Going to try to stay more local in `big' event rides and races this year. (Unless I win that lottery).
A few tentative events in the schedule:
- April 13 - 600K AZ Brevet out of and back to Tucson (Arizona)
- May 25 - Borrego Double Century (California)
- June 2013 - RAAM Solo Maria Parker (www.3000Milestoacure.com) crewing (USA)
- September 14/15 - Hoodoo 300 (Utah) - or -
- September 15 - Skull Valley Loop Challenge (Arizona)
- November 2/3 - World 24 Hour Time Trials (California)
Recently put together a set of local training courses that don't include constant mountain grades. Combining mountain training and flat-ish land training will increase miles and decrease feet climbed. But, such a training demographic should prepare me better for the events noted.
This constitutes both the mountain and the flat training terrain in my neck of the woods. Can it be any better?!
Pioneer Parkway to Hwy 69
Hwy 69/Fain Rd to I-17
Skull Valley Loop - White Spars - Very Difficult
Monday, March 4, 2013
Prescott, Arizona - Road Cyclist's Paradise
Here in Mile High Prescott, Arizona, it is `ground-zero' for mind-blowing mountain biking
$35K Winner's Prize
Don't be surprised if our incredible variety of roads (many on the RAAM route) generate serious road cycling venues.
200 Mile, 14,000 ft of Climbing, Road Cycling Course
$35K Winner's Prize
Don't be surprised if our incredible variety of roads (many on the RAAM route) generate serious road cycling venues.
200 Mile, 14,000 ft of Climbing, Road Cycling Course
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Unwise Exercise
I recently commented on a New York Times article Running Hard at 66 and Living With the Consequences
Having just returned from a 24 Hour Bike Race in Florida I had both the time and occasion to ponder the issue of `motivation.' The wind and cold of this race made it an absolutely brutal experience for those participating.
I chose to stop racing after 14 hours and 212 miles. I confronted what is, for me, a simple logic: "What do I gain by persisting in the pain and misery of pushing through for 24 hours?!"
I have (we all have) the physical capacity to push on.
Is the decision to suffer on proof of `something?' In my case, it wasn't. I didn't need it for my ego. I didn't need it to prove to myself that I can endure pain. Been there. Done that. Old news. (Besides, the worst pain takes place between our ears.)
So, reading the NYT article the other day came at the right time.
------------------------------------
A common limiting factor/problem with running and many other bone/muscle pounding activities, as we get older, is that of this-or-that use-related injury. These injuries increase in frequency and take more time to heal.
While each use-related injury is healing you are typically sidelined for weeks or months at a time. If you're lucky it will just take a ridiculously long time to regain fitness. If you're not `lucky,' and get a serious injury that further pushes you toward inactivity ... so the spiral begins.
So, the `yo-yo' of on-again-off-again injury with these kinds of activities puts a big dent in one's motivation to be fit.
There is a dangerous `if it hurts I must be a stud' mentality that needs to be reconsidered by sincere athletes and fitness afficionados. (Or, as a friend stated recently: "There's too much masochism and suffering in this stuff -- for what?!!")
The `best' part of your body is from the neck up. Put it to better use so that you can continue to enjoy your body from the neck down.
Work at finding a way to enjoy and express yourself in a sport or activity that adds life, spring, bounce and years to your life. Don't look down the barrel of a gun and pull the trigger just to see "if it works."
Having just returned from a 24 Hour Bike Race in Florida I had both the time and occasion to ponder the issue of `motivation.' The wind and cold of this race made it an absolutely brutal experience for those participating.
I chose to stop racing after 14 hours and 212 miles. I confronted what is, for me, a simple logic: "What do I gain by persisting in the pain and misery of pushing through for 24 hours?!"
I have (we all have) the physical capacity to push on.
Is the decision to suffer on proof of `something?' In my case, it wasn't. I didn't need it for my ego. I didn't need it to prove to myself that I can endure pain. Been there. Done that. Old news. (Besides, the worst pain takes place between our ears.)
So, reading the NYT article the other day came at the right time.
------------------------------------
A common limiting factor/problem with running and many other bone/muscle pounding activities, as we get older, is that of this-or-that use-related injury. These injuries increase in frequency and take more time to heal.
While each use-related injury is healing you are typically sidelined for weeks or months at a time. If you're lucky it will just take a ridiculously long time to regain fitness. If you're not `lucky,' and get a serious injury that further pushes you toward inactivity ... so the spiral begins.
So, the `yo-yo' of on-again-off-again injury with these kinds of activities puts a big dent in one's motivation to be fit.
There is a dangerous `if it hurts I must be a stud' mentality that needs to be reconsidered by sincere athletes and fitness afficionados. (Or, as a friend stated recently: "There's too much masochism and suffering in this stuff -- for what?!!")
The `best' part of your body is from the neck up. Put it to better use so that you can continue to enjoy your body from the neck down.
Work at finding a way to enjoy and express yourself in a sport or activity that adds life, spring, bounce and years to your life. Don't look down the barrel of a gun and pull the trigger just to see "if it works."
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Brainless Training Tricks!
Training WIthout Brains
Sometimes we let fixed ideas dictate our actions. This is variably described, ranging from `dedicated,' to `stubborn,' to `stupid.' Yesterday's training ride included all of these.
The Bike Prescott Club arranged, yesterday, a group ride through 75 miles of forbidding and desolate Arizona terrain. Though I ride/train very little with others I was very happy to join the group for this challenging trek.
January 22 ... is still Winter! Here in the higher altitudes of AZ we get slapped around a lot by discovering the rapid-fire caprice of freezing cold, warm and embracing sunlight. Can't take anything for granted on even the shortest ride.
Starting out at an altitude of around 4,000 feet we were enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays. A surprisingly strong wind from the east aided us in our westerly route. As soon as we started climbing we found ourselves shedding armwarmers, vests, etc.
Reaching our turnaround point mid-day the wind had (uncharacteristically) diminished and the warmth of the sun was `full on.' Finally, when we reached the `divide' between climbing and descending the sun was waning we developed a `sweat' and the wind demanded that we at least put the vest back on.
If the sun just briefly hides behind a rock face or a hill we experience a 10 - 15 degree chill. Like a light switch. In the sun it is 72F. The second we enter shade the temp drops to 50F. Add wind and sweat and we experience a `wind chill' effect.
The group ended the 75 mile ride around 4:30 pm, as the sun was beginning to cast long shadows. And THAT was the right time to end the group ride, as the temp range remained the same but the sunlight was not as warm. That is, in-the-sun temps were 60's, and shady temps were 40's. Add wind and wet clothing ... bitter cold.
Here is where I elected to get `stubborn,' or ride from the neck `down.'
I wanted to cap the 75 mile group ride with an additional solo 25 miles to get a full `century.' And off into the setting sun I went. Mostly uphill. Slowly.
Twelve and a half miles later I reached the turnaround point. The sun had firmly set. I was at an altitude of 5,000 feet. The mountain desert cold presented itself, as it had always been there. The temps were in the low 40F's. I was sweaty and my clothes were wet. It was getting so dark that I needed to focus on the fog line to stay on the road.
The 12.5 mile return was all downhill: 4 - 6%.
And there I was. I had failed to carry a front light. I had failed to carry a head lamp in the event I had a flat and needed to see what I was doing. I had failed to carry the emergency foil wrap to protect against the cold in the event I had a mechanical problem.
Descending down the hill my hands were so cold as to become almost inflexible. The cutting cold wind tore into my wet arms and torso. I was descending at 40+ mph. The windchill must have been a single digit.
By the time I was 4 miles from the end cars were using their bright lights to illuminate the road ahead. I was blinded. Stark desert darkness shattered by an explosive and disorienting brilliance ahead. I slowed dramatically as each vehicle passed, aware of the phenomenon of `object fixation,' where one `steers' into the light ahead. Also aware that the momentary blindness risked me not seeing wildlife (javelina, coyote, deer, etc) that may be crossing the road.
Finally, I reached the end point. It was pitch dark. I was rigid with cold.
Fumbling with rigid fingers I dropped the keys to my car several times.
I realized that I needed to shed the wet jersey in which I was freezing in the wind and put on something dry. This was clumsy and awkward, associated with the odd sense of warmth as soon as my unprotected skin was exposed to the wind.
Driving home I had the heat on full blast. I was reminded of the years of winter midnight riding in the frozen tundra of Illinois.
`Fixed idea.' An irrational and thoughtless focus on an action that placed me square in the cross-hairs of self-inflicted danger.
Training Without Brains
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Great Leader Sports Nutrition Products
As 2013 training and riding season is imminent I thought it might be amusing to post my homage to the snake oil industry:
"Expensive
Urinite:" Improve your
speed 300% while keeping your heart rate under 85 bpm. Scientifically
formulated and tested at a secret underwater independent North Korean humility
`Great Leader' sports lab. Trust us!
Easy to
swallow, non-chewable, tasty seaweed flavored powder dissolvable in simple yak
milk. 16 oz irradiated `repurposed' nuclear centrifuge canisters @ only $175
each. Money back guarantee if you live that long.
"Swell
Gel:" Dance up
hills in happy bliss doing `silly circles' around your grunting
competitors. All ingredients in Swell Gel have been personally and individually
used by "WADA" scientists and carry their official ` thumbs up with a
wink' photo. Unlike other sticky, gooey, gag-me-with-a-spoon gels Swell Gel is
snorted by riders. No sticky white residue.
"Secret
Power Suppositories" For the
`daring' competitor, the one who isn't cowed by wussy WADA rules or spy camera
crews. Enormous wiener sized slick suppository jam packed with EPO,
epinephrine, testosterone, and a veritable plethora of fast acting 'roids.
Nobody will know that when it looks like you're just scratching your
crotch you're actually inserting a "Secret Power Suppository" up your
keester.
Guaranteed NOT
to grow an inch of hair on your shoulders and arms by the end of a
Stage.
Be the first to
finish, knowing that when you get off your bike and your knuckles are dragging
at your feet you'll have a long night of bike groupies wanting to know you
better.
Amaze your friends
when your voice drops from falsetto to alto.
And we promise
not to insult your intelligence by selling for dollars what you could buy at
your grocery store for pennies. Because WE KNOW you want one of our "GREAT
LEADER" T-shirts to prove to your buds that you're one serious,
baaaddddd-ass cyclist!
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Cadence, Power, Climbing and Heart Rate
I'm not certain I'll be able to state this very well.
I've been casually attending to cyclist's reports of the watts they deliver compared to the watts they predict. Recently I read that a cyclist predicted an average 214 watts but actually delivered 189 watts. This was on a long-distance endurance event.
Perhaps training with a power meter really is the best training method. It certainly allows the cyclist to dial in a goal and do what it takes to `reach' that goal. And training with heart rate zones carries with it the imprecisions associated with high variability from one day to the next.
On a long distance event it is important to stay `within' oneself. That is, if I were to target a certain wattage figure I might find that it is just too strenuous, too far outside the range of long-term sustainability. If I targeted 215 watts but became overtaxed in doing so it is a certainty that my performance would suffer.
So maybe it is good to `train' with an objective wattage power figure but to `compete' in a range that is subjectively doable.
Last November I entered and dnf'd at a 24 hour time trial. Though I had four flat tires and the concomitant delays associated with that I still felt that I might not have been able to complete the entire event. Even without the four flat tires. Why?
After about 180 miles (and 10 or so hours) I began to feel `burnt.' I didn't have a power meter and was unable to even `see' my heart rate figures because of the dark of night. And, for whatever reason, my Garmin simply didn't record the heart rate figures consistently.
But I felt it during the race in my knees. Not a pain, so much as a growing ache. That shouldn't happen so early in a 24 hour race. My conclusion is that I was pushing too hard (probably both in terms of watts and heart rate). Rewinding, in my mind, what I was doing I conclude that I pedalled at a too low cadence (probably 65 -75 rpm) pushing too many watts. Thus the knee `ache' and the feeling of feeling `burnt' after 10 hours.
I train typically in the hills and mountains and have developed a habit of powering up inclines. That is, I grind up the hills. I guess that that is one of the reasons I like climbing: I feel like I'm conquering the climbing.
But that strategy cannot work on long distance competitive events.
Lately, on the indoor trainer I have set two goals for myself on training that lasts 2 or more hours. First, keep the heart rate in the 125 bpm range. Second, keep the cadence between 85 - 90 rpm. If I tried to apply high wattage and keep 85-90 rpm my heart rate will skyrocket. So, I've had to back off the `power' in order to stay at 125 bpm and 85-90 rpm.
But I don't like it.
In fact, in the last few weeks on my outdoor training rides I'd try to up the rpm and keep the bpm in range, even when climbing. And I just don't like it. Subjectively I feel I'm going too slow. But, when I compare my performance to when I `ground' up the mountain grade with lower cadence at the same relative bpm ... I was no slower. That is, less wattage, more rpms at the same bpm.
Subjective and objective. Lots to learn here.
I'm going to continue this `higher rpm' experiment for a while, even though it feels uncomfortable and odd.
The perfect outcome would be that on long-distance competitions I'd keep good speed and reduce or eliminate knee `ache.'
Time and experience will tell.
I've been casually attending to cyclist's reports of the watts they deliver compared to the watts they predict. Recently I read that a cyclist predicted an average 214 watts but actually delivered 189 watts. This was on a long-distance endurance event.
Perhaps training with a power meter really is the best training method. It certainly allows the cyclist to dial in a goal and do what it takes to `reach' that goal. And training with heart rate zones carries with it the imprecisions associated with high variability from one day to the next.
On a long distance event it is important to stay `within' oneself. That is, if I were to target a certain wattage figure I might find that it is just too strenuous, too far outside the range of long-term sustainability. If I targeted 215 watts but became overtaxed in doing so it is a certainty that my performance would suffer.
So maybe it is good to `train' with an objective wattage power figure but to `compete' in a range that is subjectively doable.
Last November I entered and dnf'd at a 24 hour time trial. Though I had four flat tires and the concomitant delays associated with that I still felt that I might not have been able to complete the entire event. Even without the four flat tires. Why?
After about 180 miles (and 10 or so hours) I began to feel `burnt.' I didn't have a power meter and was unable to even `see' my heart rate figures because of the dark of night. And, for whatever reason, my Garmin simply didn't record the heart rate figures consistently.
But I felt it during the race in my knees. Not a pain, so much as a growing ache. That shouldn't happen so early in a 24 hour race. My conclusion is that I was pushing too hard (probably both in terms of watts and heart rate). Rewinding, in my mind, what I was doing I conclude that I pedalled at a too low cadence (probably 65 -75 rpm) pushing too many watts. Thus the knee `ache' and the feeling of feeling `burnt' after 10 hours.
I train typically in the hills and mountains and have developed a habit of powering up inclines. That is, I grind up the hills. I guess that that is one of the reasons I like climbing: I feel like I'm conquering the climbing.
But that strategy cannot work on long distance competitive events.
Lately, on the indoor trainer I have set two goals for myself on training that lasts 2 or more hours. First, keep the heart rate in the 125 bpm range. Second, keep the cadence between 85 - 90 rpm. If I tried to apply high wattage and keep 85-90 rpm my heart rate will skyrocket. So, I've had to back off the `power' in order to stay at 125 bpm and 85-90 rpm.
But I don't like it.
In fact, in the last few weeks on my outdoor training rides I'd try to up the rpm and keep the bpm in range, even when climbing. And I just don't like it. Subjectively I feel I'm going too slow. But, when I compare my performance to when I `ground' up the mountain grade with lower cadence at the same relative bpm ... I was no slower. That is, less wattage, more rpms at the same bpm.
Subjective and objective. Lots to learn here.
I'm going to continue this `higher rpm' experiment for a while, even though it feels uncomfortable and odd.
The perfect outcome would be that on long-distance competitions I'd keep good speed and reduce or eliminate knee `ache.'
Time and experience will tell.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Crosswinds and Bitter Cold
Though the temp on the south end of the mountain was 20 degrees warmer (in the
sun) than up top it was getting mighty windy by mid-day. I've come to the
realization that it is warmer at noon than it is at 7am (brilliant!). So, I try
to get an hour or two of indoor training in before I head out.
Two out-and-back trips from milepost 298 to Kirkland. Fifty three miles and 4,200 feet of climbing (79 ft / mile). Didn't dress like the Michelin man because it `felt' warmer (35F?). Climbing up to milepost 298 from 295 is a warmup and takes about 20 minutes. From there it is a crazy 9 mile descent and then a right turn and 4 miles of rollers before the turnaround pount.
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/1077733
VERY windy from the NE with lots of gusty crosswinds vexing any chance of 45+ mph. On the return up to 298 the NE wind was a force to contend with. Notwithstanding a gear shift problem that denied me access to the 32t rear ring. (I have subsequently discovered that the rear wheel was set in the dropouts properly, i.e., the wheel was at an angle.)
As I get into the twisty switchbacks on the `Spars' the wind gets squirrely. The hollows and ravine-like indents to the mountain focus and increase the force of the wind.
So there I was, riding uphill at around 7mph when a gust of crosswind pushes me OFF the road and into a small 3 foot patch of shoulder before a steep drop off into a ravine.
Fortunately I've got the `brake-and-unclip' thing down cold so I managed to stop and plant my feet on the remaining shoulder. But that crosswind gust felt more like a `slap' than a `shove.'
Turning around again at the top (mp 298) the second 9 mile descent was very, very technical. I had to anticipate strong crosswinds as I came out into an open hollow. I had to keep flexibility in both arm and shoulder control and a firm grip on the handlebar ends. As the wind was at my back as I descended 4-6% it was effortless to let the bike hit 43 mph. But, again, I had to remain conscious of the crosswinds.
As I hit a 6 mile glass smooth section of straight road the crosswinds were less of a problem but the oncoming traffic was more of a problem. Each time a van or truck passed there would be a softening of the wind and then a heavy `smack' of crosswind. I chose to stop pedalling, slow down and brace myself for this. But still, it was like getting hit with a rolled up carpet.
Returning again from the second lap, up the 9 mile hill and into the ever increasing wind was rough. My plan was to keep the HR at no more than 125 and the cadence at 85 rpm. But not having access to that 32t cog and feeling the pushback from the oncoming wind ruined that plan. Also, sweating from the training ride the wind and cold gave me a harsh chill that only more effort could remediate. Back to my old 65-70 rpm grind; although I did manage to keep the HR under reasonable control until the last two mile `push.'
All in all, what is normally a `4' out of `10' training ride turned into a solid 6.5 because of the cold, sweat and wind.
But I've never been pushed off the road going 7 mph uphill before.
Two out-and-back trips from milepost 298 to Kirkland. Fifty three miles and 4,200 feet of climbing (79 ft / mile). Didn't dress like the Michelin man because it `felt' warmer (35F?). Climbing up to milepost 298 from 295 is a warmup and takes about 20 minutes. From there it is a crazy 9 mile descent and then a right turn and 4 miles of rollers before the turnaround pount.
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/1077733
VERY windy from the NE with lots of gusty crosswinds vexing any chance of 45+ mph. On the return up to 298 the NE wind was a force to contend with. Notwithstanding a gear shift problem that denied me access to the 32t rear ring. (I have subsequently discovered that the rear wheel was set in the dropouts properly, i.e., the wheel was at an angle.)
As I get into the twisty switchbacks on the `Spars' the wind gets squirrely. The hollows and ravine-like indents to the mountain focus and increase the force of the wind.
So there I was, riding uphill at around 7mph when a gust of crosswind pushes me OFF the road and into a small 3 foot patch of shoulder before a steep drop off into a ravine.
Fortunately I've got the `brake-and-unclip' thing down cold so I managed to stop and plant my feet on the remaining shoulder. But that crosswind gust felt more like a `slap' than a `shove.'
Turning around again at the top (mp 298) the second 9 mile descent was very, very technical. I had to anticipate strong crosswinds as I came out into an open hollow. I had to keep flexibility in both arm and shoulder control and a firm grip on the handlebar ends. As the wind was at my back as I descended 4-6% it was effortless to let the bike hit 43 mph. But, again, I had to remain conscious of the crosswinds.
As I hit a 6 mile glass smooth section of straight road the crosswinds were less of a problem but the oncoming traffic was more of a problem. Each time a van or truck passed there would be a softening of the wind and then a heavy `smack' of crosswind. I chose to stop pedalling, slow down and brace myself for this. But still, it was like getting hit with a rolled up carpet.
Returning again from the second lap, up the 9 mile hill and into the ever increasing wind was rough. My plan was to keep the HR at no more than 125 and the cadence at 85 rpm. But not having access to that 32t cog and feeling the pushback from the oncoming wind ruined that plan. Also, sweating from the training ride the wind and cold gave me a harsh chill that only more effort could remediate. Back to my old 65-70 rpm grind; although I did manage to keep the HR under reasonable control until the last two mile `push.'
All in all, what is normally a `4' out of `10' training ride turned into a solid 6.5 because of the cold, sweat and wind.
But I've never been pushed off the road going 7 mph uphill before.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Two-wheel striptease!
Two training sessions today. First on was outdoors. Second was on the indoor trainer.
It was 11F in a few of the hollows on the mountain. I don't ride the mountain when there has been snow and freezing temps: black ice just where you don't need it.
Instead, took off from 3 miles north of Wilhoit south to Kirkland and back. 2100 ft of climbing over 26.5 miles. (Moving skin show route)
Still, it was 14F when I left and 50 when I returned. THAT is what the sun does at altitude.
I wore everything I had:
It was sunny and 50F in Kirkland so I wound up taking off half the clothes for the climb back up. There I was, on the side of the road, disrobing down to almost nothing. The ride back up had me too hot, sweating.
It wasn't pretty. But it was worth it.
I felt like the Pillsbury doughboy.
It was 11F in a few of the hollows on the mountain. I don't ride the mountain when there has been snow and freezing temps: black ice just where you don't need it.
Instead, took off from 3 miles north of Wilhoit south to Kirkland and back. 2100 ft of climbing over 26.5 miles. (Moving skin show route)
Still, it was 14F when I left and 50 when I returned. THAT is what the sun does at altitude.
I wore everything I had:
- insulated socks,
- merino leggings,
- leg warmers,
- pair of Reverse Gear shorts,
- a set of nylon windbreaker pants over all of that;
- Top was merino long jersey,
- poofy wool armwarmers,
- two wool jerseys,
- a windbreaker,
- and ANOTHER windbreaker.
- balaclava,
- a skull cap.
- a pair of warm lobster gloves,
- a pair of lobster gloves shell,
- chemical toe warmers,
- chemical hand warmers.
It was sunny and 50F in Kirkland so I wound up taking off half the clothes for the climb back up. There I was, on the side of the road, disrobing down to almost nothing. The ride back up had me too hot, sweating.
It wasn't pretty. But it was worth it.
I felt like the Pillsbury doughboy.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
And the `All Time Winner' is ...
"The Use of an External Catheter for Racing (or just convenience)"
Of the almost 35,000 pageviews of my blog over the past two years this post (Dec 26, 2010) has received the most pageviews: 1,113. More than twice the number of the runner up.
I don't know what to make of that.
Do you?
Of the almost 35,000 pageviews of my blog over the past two years this post (Dec 26, 2010) has received the most pageviews: 1,113. More than twice the number of the runner up.
I don't know what to make of that.
Do you?
Friday, December 28, 2012
2012: Wrapping It Up and Planning 2013
2012 has been the first year I was able to maintain some consistency in my cycling training.
Some 2012 data:
A. Mountainous and remote terrain requires smart and detailed attention to the following:
E. Be vigilant in the consumption of food and water on rides of 3+ hours. I've always had a problem remembering to eat and drink until it is literally too late and my performance has suffered.
F. Realistic planning of the cycling events for the upcoming year. Allows for specific training, recovery and an important balance (family, social, etc) in my life.
G. Economic assessment as to whether it is worth it to, e.g., drive 6 hours to do a 60 mile group ride (NOT!).
H. Emotional preparedness to experience ridicule and discounting by DF bike riders for riding a recumbent bike. (There is a baseless assumption that equally fit recumbent cyclists can't climb that I love to disprove).
I. A welcoming appreciation by the general public and other cyclists for riding a recumbent bike.
J. Pain and suffering should not be the `goal' of ultracycling. Rather, the ability to learn from experience so that adversity can be managed with emotional resilience, good training and better preparation.
Some 2012 data:
- about 7,300 miles cycled;
- about 565,000 feet of climbing;
- net loss of 30 lbs weight (-40 lbs fat; +10 lbs of muscle);
- substantial improvement of stamina, endurance and power when climbing (beat my previous best by 32 minutes [2:49:00] on local race of 54 miles, 4,800 ft of climbing).
A. Mountainous and remote terrain requires smart and detailed attention to the following:
- what clothing gear to carry (in the Fall and Winter one can experience 3 different seasonal climates due to the changes in altitude when riding);
- careful assessment of the difficulty of certain training routes;
- what equipment is essential;
- what equipment works best;
- water, water, water;
- high energy food / nutrition;
- cellphone coverage is 95% non-existent;
- how to protect against damage to skin from sun / solar radiation;
- effects of heat and cold, i.e., temperatures on summer days can range 40 degrees from the top of the mountain to the depth of a canyon;
- how to deal with black ice in the mountains;
- being careful to note that while you're screaming down that 8% descent at 45+ mph there may be deer, coyote, javelina, snakes, etc in your way;
- being careful to note that while you're screaming down that 8% descent at 45+ mph there may be a sharp and unexpected turn in the road;
- solo riding (i.e., when my training rides are longer (time and distance) and hillier (thousands of feet of climbing and descending) than others want to do, have the time to do;
- I still think it is more dangerous to ride in Chicago than it is to ride in the most desolate and threatening local terrain.
- lighting for night riding if I encounter time delays;
- protection in the event of predatory wildlife;
- making sure that other's know my route and expected time of return;
- double and triple equipment backup (tubes, tires, air, cables, master chain links, first-aid, etc.);
- weather emergencies (sudden cold, lightning);
- waving at, being seen by, being courteous to, and establishing and maintaining good will with drivers and local folks (being literally the only recumbent cyclist in the area means that I will be remembered);
- don't lay or sit down on flat ground unless I want scorpions, ants or snakes as company;
- sources of water (remote hiking trailheads, driving the course and placing bottles of water at strategic points along the way);
- complete absence of sources of food (stores, gas stations) for tens of miles along the route;
- recognition that I might have to stop at any remote ranch or house along the way to ask for help.
- short, hilly races (strategy, intensity managementy, weight issues (body, bike, nutrition, water), gearing;
- long, flat brevets or races (lots of indoor training at continuous, non-stop effort v. short, hard efforts interspersed with often long [15+ minutes] of steep or steady descents where the heart rate drops to the 60's;
- Self-support v. full or partial support (crew/vehicle) for mechanicals, food and water;
E. Be vigilant in the consumption of food and water on rides of 3+ hours. I've always had a problem remembering to eat and drink until it is literally too late and my performance has suffered.
F. Realistic planning of the cycling events for the upcoming year. Allows for specific training, recovery and an important balance (family, social, etc) in my life.
G. Economic assessment as to whether it is worth it to, e.g., drive 6 hours to do a 60 mile group ride (NOT!).
H. Emotional preparedness to experience ridicule and discounting by DF bike riders for riding a recumbent bike. (There is a baseless assumption that equally fit recumbent cyclists can't climb that I love to disprove).
I. A welcoming appreciation by the general public and other cyclists for riding a recumbent bike.
J. Pain and suffering should not be the `goal' of ultracycling. Rather, the ability to learn from experience so that adversity can be managed with emotional resilience, good training and better preparation.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
`Getting old' vs. Aging
Rollers.
Years ago I trained on rollers (DF) and found that they `trained' my ability to maintain balance on a slippery surface. But they offered absolutely no benefit to my real goals with indoor trainers: increase cardiopulmonary capacity, build power and improve endurance. I sold the rollers and moved to a resistance platform.
Now that I am `retired' (what a joke!) I have time to meet more neighbors and spend time with them. The community in which I live has a `common house' that we jointly fund and use for many good purposes. When we moved here last year I brought all my indoor training equipment and set it up in a designated room in the `common house.' My motives were self-interest and communitarian. That is, I didn't want to take up space in my own house with this armamentarium of equipment but wanted it to be nearby and free to use.
The hundred or so community neighbors were delighted to have the equipment: Concept2 indoor rower, Solex Elliptical, indoor bicycle on a wind-resistance trainer, a set of free weights, and a bunch of mats, etc.
They wanted assistance in learning how best to use the equipment.
We have a lot of kids and their working parents here. The kids don't use the stuff. Their parents use it irregularly when time permits. But the older, often semi- or fully retired folks have a real interest in the equipment.
None of the community users are athletes. They use the equipment for 30 minutes every other day or so. They asked me for an `orientation' to the equipment and if I'd be the community person available for instruction, etc....
So now I'm back to the issue of `balance' after all these years.
As folks age their parts start to give them trouble. Unless there is deliberate and disciplined attention to working to stay fit we will all just seize up and become sedentary.
And that is the very definition of `getting old' to 99% of us: seizing up and becoming sedentary.
That is, an increasingly submissive giving-in to predictable physical impediments. (For some, getting older affords them -- FINALLY -- the excuse to become helpless, dependent and the objects of sympathy that they've been looking for all their life).
The `getting old' spiral cycle is as follows:
It's a `psychology' of voluntary withdrawal from life. And the emotional anxiety it generates within us requires effort to deal with.
In otherwords, `getting old' and decrepit is hard work and we earn every debility we accomplish! It is NOT a simple function of the passage of time. We `choose' decrepitude.
Aging is not for sissies. It requires clear-headed vigilance and a more mature commitment than just coasting along on the inertia that youth gives us. (O.K. I think being young is for sissies! There. I said it.)
Aging isn't about getting weak and fragile. It's an opportunity! We can exploit this opportunity and gain enormous satisfaction in doing so. Goals. Methods. Discipline. Consistency. The strength and resilience to persist through predictable setbacks.
You just can't ask for anything better.
And here is recent scientific support for the proposition that endurance activity makes for an ever-smarter brain.
So, when I orient and `coach' the older neighbors I tell them that they should get the hell out of the exercise room and use the immensely challenging terrain around us.
BUT, when they do need to use the indoor equipment their focus should be on: building balance, cardiovascular capacity, muscle and stamina.
So ... indoor training on rollers is good for aging folks because it trains our balance and the vestibular system.
Same with the elliptical. Get on the elliptical and don't use your hands or arms. Just use your legs. You'll find that you'll need all the micromuscles in your legs and core to stay balanced and upright while you're `ellipting' along.
The indoor rower adds upper body strength, `lubricates' and `flexibilizes' the feet, ankles, knees, hips, core, lower back, chest, hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, arms.
So .. rollers are for balance. Mag or wind resistance indoor trainers are for cardiovascular capacity, stamina, power and endurance.
O.K.
I'm done for now.
I'm leaving.
You're in charge while I'm gone.
Years ago I trained on rollers (DF) and found that they `trained' my ability to maintain balance on a slippery surface. But they offered absolutely no benefit to my real goals with indoor trainers: increase cardiopulmonary capacity, build power and improve endurance. I sold the rollers and moved to a resistance platform.
Now that I am `retired' (what a joke!) I have time to meet more neighbors and spend time with them. The community in which I live has a `common house' that we jointly fund and use for many good purposes. When we moved here last year I brought all my indoor training equipment and set it up in a designated room in the `common house.' My motives were self-interest and communitarian. That is, I didn't want to take up space in my own house with this armamentarium of equipment but wanted it to be nearby and free to use.
The hundred or so community neighbors were delighted to have the equipment: Concept2 indoor rower, Solex Elliptical, indoor bicycle on a wind-resistance trainer, a set of free weights, and a bunch of mats, etc.
They wanted assistance in learning how best to use the equipment.
We have a lot of kids and their working parents here. The kids don't use the stuff. Their parents use it irregularly when time permits. But the older, often semi- or fully retired folks have a real interest in the equipment.
None of the community users are athletes. They use the equipment for 30 minutes every other day or so. They asked me for an `orientation' to the equipment and if I'd be the community person available for instruction, etc....
So now I'm back to the issue of `balance' after all these years.
As folks age their parts start to give them trouble. Unless there is deliberate and disciplined attention to working to stay fit we will all just seize up and become sedentary.
And that is the very definition of `getting old' to 99% of us: seizing up and becoming sedentary.
That is, an increasingly submissive giving-in to predictable physical impediments. (For some, getting older affords them -- FINALLY -- the excuse to become helpless, dependent and the objects of sympathy that they've been looking for all their life).
The `getting old' spiral cycle is as follows:
- Ouch! that hurts!
- I won't do THAT again.
- Next time I have to get up to do something I won't do it because it hurts.
- I sit more.
- I move less.
- I become known to myself as `not able.'
- I eat more.
- I drink more.
- I shuffle around more.
- I lose fitness (muscle mass, flexibility, cardiovascular capacity, stamina).
- My body decides on it's own that I want to slowly `die' down.
- I get sick.
- I take `fake it' pills (that trick my organs into not dieing so fast).
- I get fat.
- Now that I'm fat it's even harder to move!
- Ouch! That hurts! ....
It's a `psychology' of voluntary withdrawal from life. And the emotional anxiety it generates within us requires effort to deal with.
In otherwords, `getting old' and decrepit is hard work and we earn every debility we accomplish! It is NOT a simple function of the passage of time. We `choose' decrepitude.
Aging is not for sissies. It requires clear-headed vigilance and a more mature commitment than just coasting along on the inertia that youth gives us. (O.K. I think being young is for sissies! There. I said it.)
Aging isn't about getting weak and fragile. It's an opportunity! We can exploit this opportunity and gain enormous satisfaction in doing so. Goals. Methods. Discipline. Consistency. The strength and resilience to persist through predictable setbacks.
You just can't ask for anything better.
And here is recent scientific support for the proposition that endurance activity makes for an ever-smarter brain.
So, when I orient and `coach' the older neighbors I tell them that they should get the hell out of the exercise room and use the immensely challenging terrain around us.
BUT, when they do need to use the indoor equipment their focus should be on: building balance, cardiovascular capacity, muscle and stamina.
So ... indoor training on rollers is good for aging folks because it trains our balance and the vestibular system.
Same with the elliptical. Get on the elliptical and don't use your hands or arms. Just use your legs. You'll find that you'll need all the micromuscles in your legs and core to stay balanced and upright while you're `ellipting' along.
The indoor rower adds upper body strength, `lubricates' and `flexibilizes' the feet, ankles, knees, hips, core, lower back, chest, hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, arms.
So .. rollers are for balance. Mag or wind resistance indoor trainers are for cardiovascular capacity, stamina, power and endurance.
O.K.
I'm done for now.
I'm leaving.
You're in charge while I'm gone.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Indoor Training: Is It Harder?
The UltraMarathon Cycling Association sponsors a winter indoor cycling competition for members. Some members spend as many as 28 hours in a row on the bike. Others no more than 2 hours. Which is harder?
Obviously, those putting in long hours on the indoor trainer are doing so at a very low level of intensity. But how does one measure capacity for boredom? One of the qualities of a successful ultracyclist is an ability to persist under the worst conditions. And experiencing hours of boredom wears you down. Is that harder?
Many cyclists enlist the support of group indoor training sessions, e.g., spinning classes, etc... This mediates the otherwise `boring' aspect of indoor training. More, spinning sessions are usually short and intense, supporting the critical dimension of motivation to train in the winter.
Taking the middle road between double digit hourse of indoor training and intensely prescribed commercial spinning we find ... the bike-in-the-basement. For most of us this is available and doable, allowing for a balanced work-family-training formula. (I, for one, also experience the feeling of `guilt' when I train. The `guilt' of neglecting the other two important dimensions: work and family.)
For me, indoor training IS harder than outdoor training. And for a combination of reasons. First, of course, is the boredom factor. Second, I tend to make it hard on myself. That is, rather than endure the boredom of multiple hours of low intensity training I opt for shorter and more physiologically intense training.
Again, for me, 90 minutes on the trainer is like 180 minutes on the road. No coasting. No stopping for traffic, intersections, etc. No tailwind.
On the road I gauge the level of intensity (measured by my heart rate) to the amount of time I'm riding, the distance and the terrain. I periodically glance at my heart rate but measure out my effort by the very subjective Relative Perceived Exertion Scale
As it turns out my indoor training sessions are more exhausting than outdoor training.
A problem that I continue to have is equating hours spent indoor v outdoor.
This past week I've retured to a disciplined regimen of training after 7 days of family traveling and other priorities. My plan was to put in 14.5 hours of training. I even identified the outdoor courses, miles covered and feet of climbing. But the reality was that weather and other priorities had me on the indoor trainer 3 out of 6 days. So, I completed 11.25 hours of training, about 100 miles and fewer than 6,000 feet of climbing. Almost all of the outdoor training was in HR Zone 1. And about half of the indoor training was in HR Zone 2.
Plans offer structure and guidance. At the end of every week, though, we usually discover that the reality trumped the plan. Maybe for good? Maybe not.
But, then, seeking a `balanced life,' what is `good?'
Obviously, those putting in long hours on the indoor trainer are doing so at a very low level of intensity. But how does one measure capacity for boredom? One of the qualities of a successful ultracyclist is an ability to persist under the worst conditions. And experiencing hours of boredom wears you down. Is that harder?
Many cyclists enlist the support of group indoor training sessions, e.g., spinning classes, etc... This mediates the otherwise `boring' aspect of indoor training. More, spinning sessions are usually short and intense, supporting the critical dimension of motivation to train in the winter.
Taking the middle road between double digit hourse of indoor training and intensely prescribed commercial spinning we find ... the bike-in-the-basement. For most of us this is available and doable, allowing for a balanced work-family-training formula. (I, for one, also experience the feeling of `guilt' when I train. The `guilt' of neglecting the other two important dimensions: work and family.)
For me, indoor training IS harder than outdoor training. And for a combination of reasons. First, of course, is the boredom factor. Second, I tend to make it hard on myself. That is, rather than endure the boredom of multiple hours of low intensity training I opt for shorter and more physiologically intense training.
Again, for me, 90 minutes on the trainer is like 180 minutes on the road. No coasting. No stopping for traffic, intersections, etc. No tailwind.
On the road I gauge the level of intensity (measured by my heart rate) to the amount of time I'm riding, the distance and the terrain. I periodically glance at my heart rate but measure out my effort by the very subjective Relative Perceived Exertion Scale
As it turns out my indoor training sessions are more exhausting than outdoor training.
A problem that I continue to have is equating hours spent indoor v outdoor.
This past week I've retured to a disciplined regimen of training after 7 days of family traveling and other priorities. My plan was to put in 14.5 hours of training. I even identified the outdoor courses, miles covered and feet of climbing. But the reality was that weather and other priorities had me on the indoor trainer 3 out of 6 days. So, I completed 11.25 hours of training, about 100 miles and fewer than 6,000 feet of climbing. Almost all of the outdoor training was in HR Zone 1. And about half of the indoor training was in HR Zone 2.
Plans offer structure and guidance. At the end of every week, though, we usually discover that the reality trumped the plan. Maybe for good? Maybe not.
But, then, seeking a `balanced life,' what is `good?'
Monday, December 10, 2012
Intensity Factor
Having chosen to train using the Heart Rate Zone method (more specifically found in Joe Friel's "Total Heart Rate Training") I've been learning and focusing on a few things.
What are my `heart rate zones?' Friel and others propose a few methods that generally home in on the upper limit beats per minute figure. That would establish the anchor of Heart Rate Zone # 5. For example, let's say that my highest bpm figure is 170. In Friel's book he offers a chart that arrays HRZs from #1 to #5c. Here they are:
93-130 HRZ #1 (Active Recovery)
130-143 HRZ #2 (Aerobic Threshold)
144-148 HRZ #3 (Tempo)
149-159 HRZ #4 (Sub-Lactate Threshold)
160-163 HRZ #5A (Lactate Threshold)
164-169 HRZ #5B (Aerobic Capacity)
170 HRZ #5C (Anaerobic Capacity)
Well enough.
I then applied these HRZs to 5 training / racing events over the past 4 months. How much time did I spend in each HRZ for each event?
To come up with an event `Intensity Factor' I developed this equation:
A = Total minutes of event
B = (Total minutes in HRZ #1) x 1
C = (Total minutes in HRZ #2) x 2
D = (Total minutes in HRZ #3) x 3
E = (Total minutes in HRZ #4) x 4
F = (Total minutes in HRZ #5) x 5
(B+C+D+E+F) / A = Intensity Factor
Example # One: A race I completed on September 16:
Example # Two: At another event I came up with an Intensity Factor of 1.0. I completed 244 miles in 15:09:00 (909 minutes). Total climbing was 2,400 feet (a very flat course). I spent all but 46 minutes (HRZ # 2) in HRZ # 1. This event was completed within a completely Aerobic pace.
Example # Three: Yesterday I completed a training event of 81.4 miles in 7 hours (420 minutes) flat. Ascending and descending feet were 8,440. Ascending time was twice that of descending time. I spent the entire event in HRZ #1 (93 - 130 bpm). The Intensity Factor for this event was also 1.0.
Summarizing:
These results may seem obvious and common knowledge to us. In fact, there is nothing in the data that surprised me (except for the effect that climbing feet has on miles covered - literally a reduction in miles covered by a third). But, it is confirming (for me) to have the tangible evidence, personal experience and data to support the `common knowledge.'
What are my `heart rate zones?' Friel and others propose a few methods that generally home in on the upper limit beats per minute figure. That would establish the anchor of Heart Rate Zone # 5. For example, let's say that my highest bpm figure is 170. In Friel's book he offers a chart that arrays HRZs from #1 to #5c. Here they are:
93-130 HRZ #1 (Active Recovery)
130-143 HRZ #2 (Aerobic Threshold)
144-148 HRZ #3 (Tempo)
149-159 HRZ #4 (Sub-Lactate Threshold)
160-163 HRZ #5A (Lactate Threshold)
164-169 HRZ #5B (Aerobic Capacity)
170 HRZ #5C (Anaerobic Capacity)
Well enough.
I then applied these HRZs to 5 training / racing events over the past 4 months. How much time did I spend in each HRZ for each event?
To come up with an event `Intensity Factor' I developed this equation:
A = Total minutes of event
B = (Total minutes in HRZ #1) x 1
C = (Total minutes in HRZ #2) x 2
D = (Total minutes in HRZ #3) x 3
E = (Total minutes in HRZ #4) x 4
F = (Total minutes in HRZ #5) x 5
(B+C+D+E+F) / A = Intensity Factor
Example # One: A race I completed on September 16:
- 52.1 miles
- 4,670 feet of climbing
- 2:48:00 (168) total minutes of event (A)
- 111 minutes ascending;
- 57 minutes descending;
- B = 12
- C = 92
- D = 24
- E = 25
- F = 0
- (15 minutes below 93 bpm)
Example # Two: At another event I came up with an Intensity Factor of 1.0. I completed 244 miles in 15:09:00 (909 minutes). Total climbing was 2,400 feet (a very flat course). I spent all but 46 minutes (HRZ # 2) in HRZ # 1. This event was completed within a completely Aerobic pace.
Example # Three: Yesterday I completed a training event of 81.4 miles in 7 hours (420 minutes) flat. Ascending and descending feet were 8,440. Ascending time was twice that of descending time. I spent the entire event in HRZ #1 (93 - 130 bpm). The Intensity Factor for this event was also 1.0.
Summarizing:
- The first example (52.1 miles) was a relatively short race.
- The second example involved 3 times the miles covered than the third example (81.4 miles v. 244 miles) but virtually no climbing at all.
- The third example (81.4 miles with 8,440 feet of climbing and descending) demonstrates the necessity of `pacing' rather than `racing.'
- At relatively short events (especially where there is a great deal of descending where the heart rate drops to as low as 64 bpm) I can deliberately enter the anaerobic threshold and increase the bpm's for a short period of time, not concerned with lactate buildup and other changes in blood chemistry.
- At events of significant distance and climbing it is critical to remain comfortably in the aerobic zones.
- Importantly, at events of great length and time duration (ultra / endurance events) time off the bike reduces the number of miles covered.
- The key variables to a winning performance, then, during ultraracing are:
- not exceeding the upper limit of HRZ #1;
- remaining on the bike with forward movement for as long as possible;
- hydration;
- nutrition;
- sleep management.
These results may seem obvious and common knowledge to us. In fact, there is nothing in the data that surprised me (except for the effect that climbing feet has on miles covered - literally a reduction in miles covered by a third). But, it is confirming (for me) to have the tangible evidence, personal experience and data to support the `common knowledge.'
Friday, November 30, 2012
Ultracycling and Introverts
Introvert personality.
If a crowded cocktail party feels like a holding cell to you, even as you gamely keep up your end of the chatter, chances are you're an introvert. Introverts are drained by social encounters and energized by solitary, often creative pursuits. Their disposition is frequently misconstrued as shyness, but many introverts socialize easily; they just strongly prefer not to. In fact, the introvert can be more empathic and interpersonally connected than his or her outgoing counterparts. The line between introversion and lonely loners gets blurry, however, as some introverts do wish they could break out of their shell.
I'd like to do a wide screen study of people who are long distance / long time cyclists. In otherwords, I'd like to know if there are more of them out there like me.
We are often asked: "Why do you do that?" "What do you get out of that?"
And, if you're like me, you really don't have an answer. "I dunno. I just like it, I guess."
Recently I listened to a glowing report from a cheerful and ebullient cyclist about riding a cross-state bicycle circus with up to 20,000 other cyclists. She reported many wonderful experiences. Later, asked if I had ever done that event I blurted out an almost involuntary: "Never. That sounds to me like a psychopathology." (Real tactful of me, right?)
I think of the many cyclists I have known who enjoy solitary riding. And of those who enjoy cycling with others ... but in almost total silence. `Semi-solitary.'
I've learned that in social situations (more than 2 others) the description above is applicable, i.e., I feel drained by the situation. Yet, I tend to thrive and feel alive and connected with one or two others.
As a psychologist I've administered too many personality tests. By and large they're grossly over / misinterpreted. Worse, personality assessments are made in order to find a way to include / exclude a person from entry to a group or work environment. It's brutal to take a snapshot of a person (who may have not slept that night, who may have had one cup of coffee too much, who may be under inordinate proximate stress) and then generalize from that snapshot.
So, wouldn't it be interesting to meet another solo cyclist and ask about introversion and extroversion.
If a crowded cocktail party feels like a holding cell to you, even as you gamely keep up your end of the chatter, chances are you're an introvert. Introverts are drained by social encounters and energized by solitary, often creative pursuits. Their disposition is frequently misconstrued as shyness, but many introverts socialize easily; they just strongly prefer not to. In fact, the introvert can be more empathic and interpersonally connected than his or her outgoing counterparts. The line between introversion and lonely loners gets blurry, however, as some introverts do wish they could break out of their shell.
I'd like to do a wide screen study of people who are long distance / long time cyclists. In otherwords, I'd like to know if there are more of them out there like me.
We are often asked: "Why do you do that?" "What do you get out of that?"
And, if you're like me, you really don't have an answer. "I dunno. I just like it, I guess."
Recently I listened to a glowing report from a cheerful and ebullient cyclist about riding a cross-state bicycle circus with up to 20,000 other cyclists. She reported many wonderful experiences. Later, asked if I had ever done that event I blurted out an almost involuntary: "Never. That sounds to me like a psychopathology." (Real tactful of me, right?)
I think of the many cyclists I have known who enjoy solitary riding. And of those who enjoy cycling with others ... but in almost total silence. `Semi-solitary.'
I've learned that in social situations (more than 2 others) the description above is applicable, i.e., I feel drained by the situation. Yet, I tend to thrive and feel alive and connected with one or two others.
As a psychologist I've administered too many personality tests. By and large they're grossly over / misinterpreted. Worse, personality assessments are made in order to find a way to include / exclude a person from entry to a group or work environment. It's brutal to take a snapshot of a person (who may have not slept that night, who may have had one cup of coffee too much, who may be under inordinate proximate stress) and then generalize from that snapshot.
So, wouldn't it be interesting to meet another solo cyclist and ask about introversion and extroversion.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Limits and the impulse toward `overtraining'
They say I'm `retired' now. Actually, I still have the luxury of work. But I no longer have the burden of a `job.'
(How many times have we thought that a trained monkey could do what we were doing. How many times have we `run out the clock' so that we could leave the job and get on with our damn lives!)
My situation is now reasonably safe and secure. Even predictable.
So what do I `make' of myself?
Do I invest myself in meaningful actions with the same intensity and resourcefulness as when I had a `job?'
Or, do I seek engagement in random activities that consume my tension and anxiety, spending time and wasting myself.
Do I `express' myself?
Or, do I waste/numb/distract myself?
The experience of having unstructured time on my hands has been somewhat confusing. Not unpleasant. Not even anxiety producing. (It is good that I am a Clinical Psychologist at times like this :)
I have the luxury, for the first time, of not feeling the knife to my throat.
But I do experience the need for something to be imposed upon me. Sort'a weird, huh! Something that will relieve me of the existential burden of making a choice, of having to think about and decide what is `important.'
I `want' a problem that will tell me what to do every day.
Erich Fromm wrote a book about this in the '60's called `Escape From Freedom.' It was a narrative of the German people in the first half of the twentieth century. They gave over this existential burden / responsibility to a `Fuerher.'
Friends. That shit don't work!
And here is where `overtraining' comes in.
I ... don't ... think ... so!
Overtraining is what we do to ourselves while trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour.
We know it won't work.
But we `won't' allow ourselves to admit to our limits, to handle the anxiety of unstructured time.
(Think Pantani).
(How many times have we thought that a trained monkey could do what we were doing. How many times have we `run out the clock' so that we could leave the job and get on with our damn lives!)
My situation is now reasonably safe and secure. Even predictable.
So what do I `make' of myself?
Do I invest myself in meaningful actions with the same intensity and resourcefulness as when I had a `job?'
Or, do I seek engagement in random activities that consume my tension and anxiety, spending time and wasting myself.
Do I `express' myself?
Or, do I waste/numb/distract myself?
The experience of having unstructured time on my hands has been somewhat confusing. Not unpleasant. Not even anxiety producing. (It is good that I am a Clinical Psychologist at times like this :)
I have the luxury, for the first time, of not feeling the knife to my throat.
But I do experience the need for something to be imposed upon me. Sort'a weird, huh! Something that will relieve me of the existential burden of making a choice, of having to think about and decide what is `important.'
I `want' a problem that will tell me what to do every day.
Erich Fromm wrote a book about this in the '60's called `Escape From Freedom.' It was a narrative of the German people in the first half of the twentieth century. They gave over this existential burden / responsibility to a `Fuerher.'
Friends. That shit don't work!
And here is where `overtraining' comes in.
- Overtraining occurs in athletes who are training for competition or a specific event and train beyond the body's ability to recover. Athletes often exercise longer and harder so they can improve. But without adequate rest and recovery, these training regimens can backfire, and actually decrease performance.
I ... don't ... think ... so!
Overtraining is what we do to ourselves while trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour.
We know it won't work.
But we `won't' allow ourselves to admit to our limits, to handle the anxiety of unstructured time.
(Think Pantani).
Monday, November 19, 2012
The `Beast'
Yesterday I got a late start on a training ride from Wilhoit toward Bagdad, the Santa Maria River (the low point). This out and back route is 70 miles. It is literally a `down and back up' route through some of the most intriguing and desolate sections of Arizona.
Because of the season and the altitude I was `chilly' during the entire event. It was mostly cloudy so when in the direct sunlight I was warmed generously (but briefly). As the afternoon wore on it became more cloudy and colder. Of course I was increasingly wet (sweat) on the `back' leg. Fortunately I carry `3 season clothing' and I managed to almost eliminate the chilling wind.
Combine the climbing and the cold I found myself unusually `sleepy' for such a short distance.
Around mile 60, amidst vast emptiness, I spied in my mirror, about 40 yards behind me, a large four footed animal chasing me. It was too far for me to make out what the animal was but it was a very big dog or somethng like it. This was the first time I was `chased' by wildlife. I accelerated promptly but the animal was really closing the distance fast. In my mind I decided if I couldn't ourtun it I was going stop and confront the beast. I finally let out a loud bellow and prepared to stop, turn the bike around and attack it. To my surprise the animal abruptly stopped and left the road.
As I continued to ride I became aware that my `confront the beast' response was pure `animal' in me. No fear. I was damned angry and wanted to kill it.
Later, driving home and, even later, falling asleep I then became afraid.
I'll probably begin to carry some self-protection devices / weapons when I go off into such remote areas.
But after the `beast' was gone I felt a strange and very satisfying sense of `excitement.' No fear at all. At least not until a few hours later.
- My Garmin 500 recorded a total of 955 feet of climbing on the 35 mile `out' leg of the ride (27.29 ft per mile).
- There was 4,763 feet of climbing on the 35 mile `back' leg of the ride (136 ft per mile).
- For a total of 5,718 feet of climbing for the entire training ride (81 ft per mile).
Because of the season and the altitude I was `chilly' during the entire event. It was mostly cloudy so when in the direct sunlight I was warmed generously (but briefly). As the afternoon wore on it became more cloudy and colder. Of course I was increasingly wet (sweat) on the `back' leg. Fortunately I carry `3 season clothing' and I managed to almost eliminate the chilling wind.
Combine the climbing and the cold I found myself unusually `sleepy' for such a short distance.
Around mile 60, amidst vast emptiness, I spied in my mirror, about 40 yards behind me, a large four footed animal chasing me. It was too far for me to make out what the animal was but it was a very big dog or somethng like it. This was the first time I was `chased' by wildlife. I accelerated promptly but the animal was really closing the distance fast. In my mind I decided if I couldn't ourtun it I was going stop and confront the beast. I finally let out a loud bellow and prepared to stop, turn the bike around and attack it. To my surprise the animal abruptly stopped and left the road.
As I continued to ride I became aware that my `confront the beast' response was pure `animal' in me. No fear. I was damned angry and wanted to kill it.
Later, driving home and, even later, falling asleep I then became afraid.
I'll probably begin to carry some self-protection devices / weapons when I go off into such remote areas.
But after the `beast' was gone I felt a strange and very satisfying sense of `excitement.' No fear at all. At least not until a few hours later.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Cracked it!!
Today's training ride put me over the 500,000 feet of climbing since Jan 1 2012 figure:
Today's Training Session
Miles: 6,435
Ft of Climbing: 500,095.
Today's Training Session
Miles: 6,435
Ft of Climbing: 500,095.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Albert Einstein and I are a lot alike that way :)
So ... I just spent a great deal of time and effort explaining and describing a dedicated program of training.
And it dawns on me: ANY program that increases time and effort on the bike will result in some improvement in performance.
For example, a grad student designs a longitudinal research study. Hypothesis is that subjects that spend 2 minutes of walking and clucking like a chicken before going to bed will live longer than those who don't.
The researcher selects 50 nonsmoking male vegetarians between the age of 50 - 55 with no personal or family history of heart disease and has them walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed. The researcher then selects another 50 men of the same age and does NOT instruct them to walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed.
Twenty years later the data show that the first group experienced (significantly) fewer deaths. Researcher's conclusion? Walking and clucking for 2 minutes every night before bedtime increases longevity (but it ruined marriages and kids never bring the grandkids over).
Same with the Power Meter v. Heart Rate Zone Training program. Both will improve performance if applied in accordance with a prescriptive training regimen. Train more and harder and you'll get better!! (You're smard, doc!)
Well, poof!!! There goes THAT comfortable delusion.
Or, as Albert Einstein said about his theory of relativity: "I thought about it while riding my bike."
And it dawns on me: ANY program that increases time and effort on the bike will result in some improvement in performance.
For example, a grad student designs a longitudinal research study. Hypothesis is that subjects that spend 2 minutes of walking and clucking like a chicken before going to bed will live longer than those who don't.
The researcher selects 50 nonsmoking male vegetarians between the age of 50 - 55 with no personal or family history of heart disease and has them walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed. The researcher then selects another 50 men of the same age and does NOT instruct them to walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed.
Twenty years later the data show that the first group experienced (significantly) fewer deaths. Researcher's conclusion? Walking and clucking for 2 minutes every night before bedtime increases longevity (but it ruined marriages and kids never bring the grandkids over).
Same with the Power Meter v. Heart Rate Zone Training program. Both will improve performance if applied in accordance with a prescriptive training regimen. Train more and harder and you'll get better!! (You're smard, doc!)
Well, poof!!! There goes THAT comfortable delusion.
Or, as Albert Einstein said about his theory of relativity: "I thought about it while riding my bike."
Power Meter v Heart Rate Zone Training
In my previous post I described some of the limitations of training exclusively in mountainous terrain. Essentially, while my climbing ability and capacity have increased substantially (I routinely, if not easily, pass DF / standard / upright cyclists on the inclines) my ability and capacity for uninterrupted application of power (i.e., on flats or hilly/rolling terrain) has become a limiting factor.
One would assume that the use of a power meter would be the first place to go in such a situation. That is, use the power meter to make sure that I apply consistent wattage in order to `fill in' the hole that mountainous training presents. But that assumption is, in my experience, completely wrong.
Consider that you're descending a 2% - 4% grade for 3 miles. Even into a headwind, when will you `spin out?' And when you `spin out' how much power are you using? When you `spin out' and your power output drops to almost zero your heart rate will drop, as well. In my case, and in that situation, my heart rate drops to the mid-60's.
If I persisted in applying 175 - 200 watts on such a descent I will increase my speed to 38 - 42 mph speed almost immediately - and then spin out. Then what? Power output terminates. Heart rate drops dramatically.
(An obvious thought crosses our mind: get a bigger front ring. 56t? 60t? 80t? And when will you spin out? Thirty seconds later? And where will you find a front derailleur that can handle the spread between that big ring and the more `terrestrial' smaller [39t, 30t] rings required for the flats, wind and/or inclines / climbing?)
So, in my analysis, putting a power meter on the bike will not address the fundamental problem that mountainous training presents, i.e., the lack of uninterrupted and continuous power and heart rate demand.
Here is where I find myself adding significant amount of time to indoor training, where I can place uninterrupted demand for increased watts and heart rate training.
Heart rate zone training is not as predictable and consistent as power meter training.
Say, for example, that I had a very heavy workout yesterday. It is probable that my heart rate today for the same effort would be higher. Essentially, if 30 minutes at 250 watts put my heart rate into Heart Rate Zone 2.5 yesterday my Heart Rate Zone would more likely be in the 3 - 3.25range today.
So there appears to be no doubt but that a power meter would solve the `hole' in mountainous terrain training. But is that the only solution? And, is that the most realistic solution?
---
On the long distance endurance cycling and racing I have done I have never used a power meter. Mostly because I didn't want to spend the money. (There is only so much of this stuff that I want to afford). But I have noted that if I attempted to maintain a particular speed it would impact my heart rate.
On the Race Across the West in 2010 (I dnf'd after 400 miles - insufficient training) my average heart rate was 106 bpm, i.e., just short ot my Heart Rate Zone 2 (111 bpm). I made good time to the Congress Time Station (#6) under the circumstances. But my endurance `terminated' at that point.
I `speculate' that if I attempted to keep to a particular power wattage (wisely set at a realistic number) for a long (12+ hours) span of time one of two things would happen. Either I'd learn that I'd have to reduce the wattage number, or, I'd learn that in maintaining that wattage number my heart rate would move too high, ultimately affecting my endurance. (Unless I were already on the `other side' of this experiment :))
---
Here is what I plan to do in my indoor training over the near (3 - 6 months) term. I will not purchase a power meter. Instead I will use Heart Rate Zone training to increase my endurance (and power).
Some practical (if not optimal) reasons:
So what would a 2 hour indoor HRZ workout look like? Here is yesterday's HRZ workout:
Here is the 2 hour indoor HRZ workout for later today:
It is my intention to post on this blog the experiences and outcome of this HRZ training method.
One would assume that the use of a power meter would be the first place to go in such a situation. That is, use the power meter to make sure that I apply consistent wattage in order to `fill in' the hole that mountainous training presents. But that assumption is, in my experience, completely wrong.
Consider that you're descending a 2% - 4% grade for 3 miles. Even into a headwind, when will you `spin out?' And when you `spin out' how much power are you using? When you `spin out' and your power output drops to almost zero your heart rate will drop, as well. In my case, and in that situation, my heart rate drops to the mid-60's.
If I persisted in applying 175 - 200 watts on such a descent I will increase my speed to 38 - 42 mph speed almost immediately - and then spin out. Then what? Power output terminates. Heart rate drops dramatically.
(An obvious thought crosses our mind: get a bigger front ring. 56t? 60t? 80t? And when will you spin out? Thirty seconds later? And where will you find a front derailleur that can handle the spread between that big ring and the more `terrestrial' smaller [39t, 30t] rings required for the flats, wind and/or inclines / climbing?)
So, in my analysis, putting a power meter on the bike will not address the fundamental problem that mountainous training presents, i.e., the lack of uninterrupted and continuous power and heart rate demand.
Here is where I find myself adding significant amount of time to indoor training, where I can place uninterrupted demand for increased watts and heart rate training.
Heart rate zone training is not as predictable and consistent as power meter training.
Say, for example, that I had a very heavy workout yesterday. It is probable that my heart rate today for the same effort would be higher. Essentially, if 30 minutes at 250 watts put my heart rate into Heart Rate Zone 2.5 yesterday my Heart Rate Zone would more likely be in the 3 - 3.25range today.
So there appears to be no doubt but that a power meter would solve the `hole' in mountainous terrain training. But is that the only solution? And, is that the most realistic solution?
---
On the long distance endurance cycling and racing I have done I have never used a power meter. Mostly because I didn't want to spend the money. (There is only so much of this stuff that I want to afford). But I have noted that if I attempted to maintain a particular speed it would impact my heart rate.
On the Race Across the West in 2010 (I dnf'd after 400 miles - insufficient training) my average heart rate was 106 bpm, i.e., just short ot my Heart Rate Zone 2 (111 bpm). I made good time to the Congress Time Station (#6) under the circumstances. But my endurance `terminated' at that point.
I `speculate' that if I attempted to keep to a particular power wattage (wisely set at a realistic number) for a long (12+ hours) span of time one of two things would happen. Either I'd learn that I'd have to reduce the wattage number, or, I'd learn that in maintaining that wattage number my heart rate would move too high, ultimately affecting my endurance. (Unless I were already on the `other side' of this experiment :))
---
Here is what I plan to do in my indoor training over the near (3 - 6 months) term. I will not purchase a power meter. Instead I will use Heart Rate Zone training to increase my endurance (and power).
Some practical (if not optimal) reasons:
- I don't want to spend any more money on expensive watt measurement indoor training stuff (e.g., CompuTrainer);
- I don't want to purchase a crank-based power meter ($2,500 to $4,000);
- I like the fact that the LeMond Revolution indoor trainer does not require a rear wheel;
- In the long run I want to increase my ability to stay in the upper ranges of Heart Rate Zone 2 (111-129 bpm) while not experiencing reduced endurance (and power).
So what would a 2 hour indoor HRZ workout look like? Here is yesterday's HRZ workout:
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- 20 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- Resulting in an `Intensity Score' of 2.25 for the entire workout. (Contact me if you want to know how I came up with the `Intensity Score' factor).
- My subjective post-workout `fatigue' rating for yesterday was about 6.5 out of 10 (it had been 7 days since I was on a bike and I believe it would have been much lower, e.g., 3.5 - 4, otherwise).
Here is the 2 hour indoor HRZ workout for later today:
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutse at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 3
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutse at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 10 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- Resulting in and `Intensity Score' of 2.0 for the same two hour indoor workout.
It is my intention to post on this blog the experiences and outcome of this HRZ training method.
The Limits of Training in the Mountains
For quite a long time I've been going back and forth on this issue.
First, I've made the distinction between `indoor' training and `outdoor' training.
Indoor training. Some people just pedal and read a book. Others actually `train' and pay close attention to the numbers. My comments refer to the latter.
For 16 years I made dedicated good use of the CompuTrainer. I sold it last year when we moved from Chicago to the mountains of Arizona. I replaced the CompuTrainer with a LeMond Revolution.
The LeMond Revolution is different from the CT in that:
Perhaps surprising to many, I never really used the CT for power meter training. I used it almost exclusively for the novelty of programming known courses (Assault on Mt. Mitchell, RAAM stages, etc) and experiencing the entertainment factor of doing so. As well, since I could adjust the resistance to the rear wheel I'd program long hours of `x' resistance in my training. I made good use of the CT. And it offered me more (power metering) than I used it for.
Now something about the mountainous and hilly terrain in which I now live.
At this writing I've ridden 6,450 miles and climbed 496,000 feet since January 1, 2012. These are all `outdoor' miles and feet climbed. I guess I could have use the CT to simulate these indoors but it would never have been the same. Bike handling skills. Dealing with dramatically different roads and road conditions. Dealing with wind, cold, rain, snow and ice. None of that happens on an indoor trainer.
But there are drawbacks to training exclusively on long/short ascents and descents. The first and most frustrating for me is that, on the long descents (as many as 17 miles of continuous descending), I'm doing nothing but steering. That is, my heart rate drops to the 60's and I'm putting out NO power. Less frustrating but equally limiting is that, on the long ascents, I'm just grinding away at a low rpm and `manageable' heart rate in the 115 - 130 bpm range.
Alternating LONG periods of no watts with LONG periods of pushing 200 - 350 watts (my estimate) leaves a big hole in my physical conditioning for handling the real-world demand for constant application of watts for hour after hour. In otherwords, in my local terrain it is too much of a mix of `long rest' and `hard but short pressure.'
I recently completed a long time trial on a flat course. I'm in great shape and did well over the course (except for the 4 flat tires and the time it took to change tubes and tires). However, I didn't do as well as I had expected. After about 100 miles I noticed that my legs began to hurt, i.e., the uninterrupted application of watts became a limiting factor. I was used to `resting' on the many downhills in my local terrain.
So I now recognize the need to `fill in' the hole in my training. That is, I need to train without the benefit of the `rest' that the downhills offer me.
On my next blog entry I'll describe the problems associated with trying to measure / train with a power meter in my terrain.
First, I've made the distinction between `indoor' training and `outdoor' training.
Indoor training. Some people just pedal and read a book. Others actually `train' and pay close attention to the numbers. My comments refer to the latter.
For 16 years I made dedicated good use of the CompuTrainer. I sold it last year when we moved from Chicago to the mountains of Arizona. I replaced the CompuTrainer with a LeMond Revolution.
The LeMond Revolution is different from the CT in that:
- it measures nothing, i.e., it has no devices for cadence, power, time, heart rate, power,
- it is a wind trainer that has no electrical parts,
- it is noisier than a CT (i.e., air displacement is noisy),
- the complete LR unit comes in at $500 v. the CT at $1,500 t0 $2,000 (assuming computer and monitor interface),
- it is bulletproof strong with no wires, digital displays, or parts that can come loose or break,
- it eliminates rear wheel / tire problems (flat tires, rubber residue accumulation, needing to clean the tire with alcohol or a solvent to assure good grip, etc),
- there are (and probably never will be) `upgrades' in equipment or software,
- because of all of the above it is, for me, far simpler to set up and use (just get on the bike and start pedaling).
Perhaps surprising to many, I never really used the CT for power meter training. I used it almost exclusively for the novelty of programming known courses (Assault on Mt. Mitchell, RAAM stages, etc) and experiencing the entertainment factor of doing so. As well, since I could adjust the resistance to the rear wheel I'd program long hours of `x' resistance in my training. I made good use of the CT. And it offered me more (power metering) than I used it for.
Now something about the mountainous and hilly terrain in which I now live.
At this writing I've ridden 6,450 miles and climbed 496,000 feet since January 1, 2012. These are all `outdoor' miles and feet climbed. I guess I could have use the CT to simulate these indoors but it would never have been the same. Bike handling skills. Dealing with dramatically different roads and road conditions. Dealing with wind, cold, rain, snow and ice. None of that happens on an indoor trainer.
But there are drawbacks to training exclusively on long/short ascents and descents. The first and most frustrating for me is that, on the long descents (as many as 17 miles of continuous descending), I'm doing nothing but steering. That is, my heart rate drops to the 60's and I'm putting out NO power. Less frustrating but equally limiting is that, on the long ascents, I'm just grinding away at a low rpm and `manageable' heart rate in the 115 - 130 bpm range.
Alternating LONG periods of no watts with LONG periods of pushing 200 - 350 watts (my estimate) leaves a big hole in my physical conditioning for handling the real-world demand for constant application of watts for hour after hour. In otherwords, in my local terrain it is too much of a mix of `long rest' and `hard but short pressure.'
I recently completed a long time trial on a flat course. I'm in great shape and did well over the course (except for the 4 flat tires and the time it took to change tubes and tires). However, I didn't do as well as I had expected. After about 100 miles I noticed that my legs began to hurt, i.e., the uninterrupted application of watts became a limiting factor. I was used to `resting' on the many downhills in my local terrain.
So I now recognize the need to `fill in' the hole in my training. That is, I need to train without the benefit of the `rest' that the downhills offer me.
On my next blog entry I'll describe the problems associated with trying to measure / train with a power meter in my terrain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)