Dec 072013
 
That is every bit as heavy as it looks.

That is every bit as heavy as it looks.

I’ve long held a theory that I could maintain my overall strength for months after ceasing a weightlifting program, so long as I stayed active with other things. I’ve come and gone from the weight room enough times over the past several years to know that I can usually move close to the same amount of weight after a break. At least for a few reps.

What I did not expect was to get a little stronger. The last time I pulled heavy weight off the floor was at the end of May, and on that occasion I banged out 10 reps of 265. I hadn’t really come to a one-rep max this spring before race season overwhelmed my weightlifting schedule, but I doubt I could have pulled much over 305.

When the board at CrossFit Dedication read “PR Something” (meaning athlete’s choice) for the strength portion, I immediately thought deadlift. Not just because it’s my favorite lift, but because I wanted to see where I stood, after six months away from it. I figured I could still pull a decent weight, but I never expected to get this heavy! I warmed up with small sets of 135 and 225, then started single pulls. 275 came up easy, and 295 wasn’t much worse. 315 was work, but I was surprised at how quickly it came up and I was able to lock it out. I would’ve been happy if I stopped there, since 315 was my deadlift goal at the beginning of the year, but I didn’t feel like I was done.

I added two more 10 pound plates and got lined up. I didn’t have total concentration on my first pull, and stopped before the plates left the ground to reset. But my second pull achieved liftoff, and before I knew it, the bar was past my knees! I locked it out with a yell, and held it for a second before dropping it. 335 pounds! That’s an all-time PR by quite a bit, and it felt so, so good.

I have a dream of a 405 deadlift that I once thought unrealistic, but now that it’s only (?!) 70 pounds away, and at the beginning of my strength training season, maybe it can happen, after all.

Dec 062013
 
For a warm weather athlete, this is a disheartening thing to wake up to.

For a warm weather athlete, this is a disheartening thing to wake up to.

Winter fired its opening salvo overnight.

Nothing punctuates the end of my season quite like the first serious snowfall. I woke up to it this morning, and while it’s pretty to look at, my heart sank anyway. My winter athlete friends will scoff, but for me, snow represents everything I don’t like about being outside. It’s cold, and wet, and slippery. It makes everything dirty (not in a good way) and difficult to use.

Winter has become a season of can’t, for me. I can’t get out on my bikes like I want. I can’t go for a run or even a drive without additional time and clothing and preparation. I can’t wear shorts. I can’t wash my car. Can’t can’t can’t.

It’s only just started, but I already miss my bikes, and I miss the woods, and sticky, hard-packed singletrack trails, and hammering up hills. I miss sweating in the sun, and cold water bottles on hot days.

Ooo! Snow waffles!

Ooo! Snow waffles!

But what about winter fun, you say. What about skiing, and snowboarding, and snowmen and snowball fights and snow angels and snow-whatever-the-heck-else-you-sick-people-like?

No. Just no. Cold and wet and slippery, and I can’t afford any more sports, anyway.

But enough moping. What winter does represent is a chance to train, and to learn new things. Like the magazine they gave you in the dentist’s chair as a kid, I’m hoping that I can work hard enough, and stay busy enough, to make this winter go quickly. And if I do, maybe I can at least salvage, from my least favorite season, the positive note of starting next season lighter, and stronger, and better than ever.

Dec 052013
 
Chatting with Mary, our instructor.

Chatting with Mary, our instructor.

The concept of the water doesn’t bother me. I like being on the water in a boat, or playing in the waves at the beach. Kayaking is a lot of fun. I’ve always thought that despite my inability to swim, I was entirely comfortable with the water.

That theory took a blow tonight, as my swimming instructor took us to the deep end of the pool for the first time. My panic was not overt. I didn’t freak out, at least not in a way that the casual observer would see. But I knew it, and Katie knew it. My kicks became short and choppy, my breathing fell apart, and my whole body became tense, just as soon as I saw the pool floor slope away beneath me. Things were fine and dandy, practicing in the shallow end. But as soon as failure (and drowning) became a real possibility, my mind sent all of the classic signs of panic through my body, and the wheels fell off.

Fear is a funny thing. It feeds on itself, magnifying the dangers we face. Like most people in modern, Western society, I spend so much of my life comfortable and unafraid, that when fear does rear its head, I don’t know what to do with it. My immediate reaction is to be fearful of the fear, compounding my problems.

On a mountain bike, when faced with an obstacle you’re not sure of clearing, the solution is most often as simple as pulling two levers with your fingers, and twitching an ankle to unclip. You can stop, eyeball what you’re afraid of, approach it slowly as many times as you like, until you’re comfortable enough to try and clear it.

Kicking just as fast as my little legs will go!

Kicking just as fast as my little legs will go!

Such options aren’t really available in 9 feet of water. For a moment, as I wobbled and sputtered my way to the far side of the pool for the first time, hands out in front clutching a kick board, the panic reaction nearly overwhelmed me. My body stiffened. I got water in my nose. I forgot entirely what I was supposed to be doing. I just wanted it to be over. I kept at it, kept breathing and kicking. Finally it was over, and I grasped the wall with white knuckles, more shaken at the experience than glad to have done it.

Subsequent attempts were only marginally more successful, in terms of swimming technique. But they were also mildly successful in a more important way: shrinking the monster. Every trip down the lane and back is one more time I didn’t die. One more time I made it under my own power. By the end of the session, I still felt the clutch of panic as the floor dropped away, but at least I knew it was coming, and that meant I could stay a little ahead of it, even at my snail’s pace. Now that I’ve acknowledged the fear, identified it and faced it, I feel that it’s only a matter of time until I beat it.

And for that, I can’t wait until I get back in the pool.

Dec 042013
 
The calm before the butt-kicking.

The calm before the butt-kicking.

Today was my introduction to one of the traditional CrossFit workouts. While not one of the “named” WODs (Workout Of the Day) for which CrossFit is so famous, it remains a benchmark across the community.

It goes a little something like this (the numbers are the men’s/women’s prescribed weights/height):

You do all of that 3 times, add up your total reps (and calories from the rower), and that’s your score.

The result is an 18 minute, full throttle, full-body ass kick. I scaled the sumos and push presses to 55 lbs to be on the safe side, and I’m glad I did. When time expired, I scored 201, which I’m pretty happy with. And was I ever scorched! Each 1 minute interval seemed to simultaneously fly by, and take forever. I kept my pace pretty well through the first two rounds, but by the last round, I was barely squeaking out 10 reps on most of the exercises.

I liked the workout overall, though. I can see myself doing the prescribed weights before too long, which is a pretty good feeling for such a CrossFit newbie. I have no idea when I might see this workout again, but I’ll be excited when I do!

Dec 032013
 
I did not desaturate this photo. It really was this gray.

I did not desaturate this photo. It really was this gray.

The forecast for today called for mid 50s and breaking sunshine in the afternoon, so I threw my bike stuff in the car and brought it all to work, envisioning a glorious late afternoon ride. I could already see myself streaking along the road, soaking up a little warmth, and cheating the oncoming winter out of one last day.

That did not materialize. Oh I got my ride in, but the sun never quite found its way through the overcast, and the temperature accordingly missed it’s mark. I suffered through about 15 miles, underdressed for the chill, before calling it good. Some riding is better than no riding, but when I was done today, I wanted to find a local weather guy to punch.

Dec 022013
 
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Action pants!

With an eye to the unseasonably cool conditions, I picked up these Pearl Izumi Elite thermal tights on the way to Virginia. While presented as a step up from the Select series tights I’ve been using since February, I would consider them to just have a different purpose. The Select tights have a built in chamois, and are good down to the low 50s or upper 40s. The Elites (at least the ones I got) do not have a built in chamois, but are constructed for winter riding on the North Pole.

Seriously, these things are really warm.

The outer material is something like a scuba suit, tightly woven and, so far as I can tell, totally windproof. The interior layer is insulating fleece, and it’s all bound together with an intricate design of seams and stretch panels that make them very ergonomic. I picked up a size Medium, and while they’re certainly snug, after a few minutes on the bike you don’t really notice. I still wish there was a M/L option for all of my cycling gear. I’m always an in-betweener.

Something you get with all of PI’s top-level cycling gear is attention to detail. On these tights, the back of the waistband flares up, to make sure the wind can’t find a way between the tights and your upper body base layer. Smart. The calf zippers are positioned just far enough back to be out of the wind, and when fully closed, the zipper tucks into its own little pocket to maintain a tight seal around your ankle. The whole assembly is (at least) double stitched, and decorated with reflective logos to help keep you visible on dreary winter rides.

The only downside of these tights is the price point. Even there, it’s hard to object, for what you’re getting. Prior to getting these tights, I had figured that winter bike training just automatically meant cold legs. I’m happy to have been proven wrong!

Dec 012013
 
All of these bikes are better than their riders.

All of these bikes are better than their riders.

A few weeks ago, I read an article on MTBR wherein the author opined that people are buying “too much bike” for themselves. And it’s exactly the sort of judgmental, elitist, old-school-is-the-only-way nonsense that keeps people out of our sport.

The column is chock full of contradictory logic. The author claims that the skills he learned on a rigid bike, namely how to pick clean, safe lines, are indispensable. He then admits that those lines changed as soon as he was on a suspension bike. Further, he discloses that he rides a rigid now, but it’s a 29er with fat, tubeless tires, and that it’s a far more accommodating ride than the 24″ or 26″ rigids he grew up riding. Well which is it? Make the ride harsh so you have to learn, or embrace just enough technology (carbon fiber handlebars, really bro?) to preserve your sense of manliness? On a second read, it becomes clear that the author’s perspective is rooted more in his sense of nostalgia and machismo, than good sense in general.

Even his value proposition is poorly illustrated, as the model he’s chosen to use as an example, a hand-made boutique bike called a Vassago VerHauen, comes at a price just for the frame that most beginners don’t want to spend on a whole bike.

He goes on to talk about how riding a rigid will make you more proficient and safer, while simultaneously acknowledging that making a mistake on a rigid will likely send you over the bars. Talk about barriers to entry! Maybe, if your target is rider safety, it’s better for newbies to start out on a bike more forgiving to boneheaded line choices. How much fun are they going to have when they’re constantly getting beat up by the trail, worn out because they have to stay out of the saddle, and teetering on the edge of disaster at every turn? And if they aren’t having fun, how long do we expect them to keep coming back?

Another neglected detail in his post is how the march of technology has changed trailbuilding. A lot of the trail built over the last 15 or so years has been built with modern, suspended bikes in mind. For all but the most proficient riders, a lot of those trails would be unassailable on a rigid bike. Is less trail use what we’re going for? It’s not about line choice when it comes to some drops and obstacles, it’s about the bike’s ability to absorb a hit.

How “good” a bike is depends largely on who’s riding it. I know that my Fuel is capable of more than I do with it, but I can also do things on my Fuel that  I never could have done on my old 4300. I sold the latter, an entry-level hardtail, because I wasn’t enjoying it on the kind of trails I was riding. It wasn’t about line choice, it was about the best tool for the job, and having fun. There’s not a bike out there that some other rider couldn’t ride better, and that applies all the way up to the World Championship level.

Certainly, there are skills and techniques that you will learn on a rigid that you won’t learn on a hardtail, and on a hardtail that you won’t learn on a fully. The skills emphasized on one bike will transfer to other bikes, at least small ways. But it begs the question: if your intent is to ride a fully all the time, why do you need those skills in the first place? If a rider is perfectly happy banging along his local trails on his 150mm travel rig, letting the suspension do the work for him, why shouldn’t he? It is vain to think that every rider on the trail wants the same thing out of a ride.

We can’t forget that bikes are art, to lovers of bikes. We all pore through the magazines and websites every year, ogling the new models and new technology that manufacturers and custom builders have come up with. If a guy wants to drop 6 grand on a carbon full suspension rig to commute down the bike path because he thinks it looks cool, who is he hurting? Let’s face it, if the only people who  bought high-end, full suspension bikes were those capable of riding them to their potential, nobody would be making those bikes for any of us to buy.

The truth is that every style of bike has something to teach you, as does every trail. Every rider will benefit his or her own development by riding on a variety of equipment, on a variety of terrain. But to say “thou shalt learn on a rigid” is unfair to many riders who simply won’t enjoy getting beat up riding their local trails without suspension, and will abandon the sport altogether after a few weeks. Maybe we, as a community, should spend a lot less time thinking about what other people are riding, and more time helping them ride. Jacking up the barriers to entry in a sport that already struggles for attention and legitimacy won’t help any of us, in the long run.