No Pain No Gain

Didn’t get a ride in yesterday so I decide to roll out to Western Speedway to watch the TripleShots PreDawn Cycling Club’s beginner’s race series. Give the Club some support.

Got there just in time to try out a warm-up lap with the pack. That was fun!

Then they’re off. 15 laps to go.

Not good at sitting around and doing nothing I decide to take on the position of cheerleader.

The pack soon divides. I make sure I’ve got a cheer in for everyone.

It’s exciting I have to say. A real mix of talents rolling around in circles. Some serious. Others just hanging on.

Rolling into the last few laps I hear an experienced rider, clearly coaching up to a young’in say the funniest thing.

“Dig down into that suitcase of pain!” he screeches down to him. He seemed triumphant in his manner.

I must have been the only one that heard it on the sidelines. Sure made me howl.
I rode home thinking about what you’ve got to do to get to the top. To win. Bottom line. Train hard.

No pain, no gain…

Scattered Showers

There are moments that delight.

This morning as I rolled home from my TripleShot Predawn Coffee Destination Cycling Club’s 6 a.m. road ride, it was the ducks crossing the road. 
At the crosswalk. He and her. 
A memorable moment.

Later I post a shout-out for a celebration of YOUR Earth Day. A dare to throw the car keys away for today.

However, somewhere amidst the activation of the day my body shut down. Good Friday after all. For most a holiday.

Yesterday I had my first ever Shiatsu session. I had relaxed and felt a lot of tension relief, particularly in my lower back. The rest of the day was a race - from meeting to meeting - and so on.

Come today, I am whacked. I managed to jive on my ride. Barely.

Got home to make breakfast, coffee and turn the computer on. My productivity was all but shattered.

I lay low. My Wild Woman Mystery Card spoke to me. I’d drawn Refuge.

The sun outside became warm. I managed a garbage run. Then flopped down on the deck to attempt my stretches. It was hard getting up.

Perhaps a day of rest? A culmination of life’s stresses reflected in the alignment and unblocking of my body’s natural flow.

I caved into it. Even while the day brightened.

Inside for me, I was scattered showers.
Ever have days like that?

One Body One Life

It’s pretty usual for a Saturday that I should struggle to get out of the sack. Just cause. The week flies by and those early morning ride grinds put me into sleep deprivation.

I look forward to Saturday’s cause it’s an 8:30 a.m. start. How very civilized.

Even though, snooze gets smacked till there is no chance. Once I swing into gear I’m fine. Except I’m eating the oatmeal while I’m walking the dog.

New people are showing up these days with the Ryder Hesjedal’s Tour de Victoria on the horizon. More women, which is great!

My body is toasted today. I did a grind on Wednesday night and yesterday morning with the TripleShots. They should really change their name to UberShots. They’re super fast. Super fit.

The sweet thing about Saturday’s ride is the social at the bike shop afterwards. Coffee and good mingling.

Cycling is awesome for fitness, but it's only one thing and if you’re not doing anything else, certain things in the body (mine at least) wear, e.g. the hip flexors.

Last week it was the bike. I’d worn out my rubber. So I had to get new tread. The week before it was the brakes. Proof I’m putting in the time.

Back in the fall I remember a ride where we’d had a new gal join in. She wasn’t dialed on the peloton riding or drafting. She got dropped, and so did I so I tried to pick her up. When she admitted she wasn’t in the know I showed her how and she got right into the groove. So much in fact, the weeks that followed I couldn’t keep up to her.

Turned out she’d been a rower. Now a personal trainer.

Anyway, she drops in for the post-ride social with cookies. We start yakking about the strength training conditioning that ideally should go along with. I bail on the talk. Bottom line. The choice - pay the mortgage or walk the talk.

She turns to me as I’m leaving and says it right.

“Gotta take care of your body, you’ve got it for life.”

She’s so right. Sign me up.

Cardio Junky

I’m hooked. I am in love with the pack. Riding in a pack. So happy I own a road bike.

My x-husband introduced me to the Triple Shots. They’re 6 am roadies Tuesdays, Wednesday, Fridays and Saturdays and 7:30 am on Sundays.

The meet-up is simple. It’s a, b or c groups. Take your pick. We head. The talking starts. The warm-ups easy.

Tuesdays is speed, Wednesday is hills, Friday’s a bit of both, Saturdays and Sunday a mix but longer in time.

Weekdays it’s an hour and a half finishing with coffee. In most cases double shots.

I get a kick out of the pace. My heart rate climbs. I’m not as fast as most. I wear red. Lantern Rouge (last rider in the Tour de France).

No worries. If I can catch up I jump on someone’s wheel. That’s the thrill. We groove along the seaside. Pace line picks up. I’m hanging on. Drool starts. Nose runs. The heart keeps up. The legs round on. The wheels turn. It’s so exhilarating. I get so thrilled. The feeling of speed, the energy in front. I’m high.

Sweat beads. The grip tightens. I have to stay on. If I loose space I gotta get up and climb. Focus focus focus. Wheel in front what’s ahead and keeping up.

The ride slows near the café. We peel off. By the time I’ve unclipped and off my bike I declare fatigue. Oh my gosh though, I can hardly wait to do it all over again.

I’m thinking maybe I’ve become a cardio junky!

A Mars Bar a Day!

When Dad spent his final years in a nursing home, I’d often escort him to the cafeteria for lunch. Then outside for his after lunch smoke. I’d watch as he'd inhale an entire half then butt it out. He was ready for a rest.
Once upstairs and hoisted in his bed, he’d ask for a tilt and a chocolate bar. Mars bars were his favourite. He’d often claim that when he was young, he and his sister would walk a mile for a Mars bar.
Yesterday morning I was out for my ride with the TripleShot gang. I lagged due to lights which left a couple of us stragglers. No matter, we kept going on the road to the nearest coffee shop.
This fellow Paul whom I had met in the morning was choking down some java, squashing some time before his next meet-up and 80 kilometre ride. I asked him what he had for fuel.
Out of his cycling jersey back pocket he pulled out some square electrolyte gummies and funny enough, an unwrapped Mars bar. I got a chuckle. I’d heard of other cyclists chowing down on Mars bars on their long rides, but thought no more until Paul pulled out his.
What is it about Mars bars that do good for long road rides?
I asked him while explaining they were my dad’s favourite. He told me in England they deep fry the things!
So I checked out the good old Mars bar tonight on my way home. Turns out there’s a caramel, a slim and a 2-pack, besides the good old regular. I swallowed down two tonight. Got a big hill ride in the morning. Grateful I didn’t have to walk a mile for them!

Riding in a Pack

Highway driving will never be the same for me. Had a big chuckle out loud when I hit the Pat Bay Highway this morning on my way to Sidney (yyj). Actually covered my mouth to stifle my laughter. I was trying to follow the car in front me's tire - like in a straight line.
I had had my first experience riding in a pack this morning with the TripleShot Pre Dawn Cafe Destination Cycling Club. Since I’m officially a roady now that I have a road bike, I gave the speed work with the pack a shot.
Insider tippers told me to stay six inches (no less) off the tire in front of me. Stay in line. If you do butt, you’ll stop. No doubt.
It’s a 6 a.m. start and I had a 15 minute ride to the meet-up. So I’m warmed up and off we go. I pulled to the back, introducing myself here and there. We get to the loop and the leader dictates the shuffle speed formation. I go for it. Appreciative of the guy who zooms ahead of me with a “Good work” under his arm. I realize he’s directing that to me and say thanks as I slinker to the very back. That’s ok I reckon to myself. At least I’m givin’ ‘er.
We spin off after four rounds to a waterfront vista and then I feel the real pull when my pair gets to the front. Exhilarating!
When I spill out it’s just in time as the big hill approaches. The infamous King George Terrace. I’ve been crawling up that hill during my own training on the old mountain bike when the pack has glided past me. This time I’m in it. Well, not for long. I’m left behind with three others. Great I think to myself. At least I’m not completely alone.
Then the fun begins. The six foot sixer passes me with a gal close behind and yells over his shoulder, “Get on, Jane.”
I do. I pull into that draft position and cruise the rest of the way to our final sprint around the Petting Zoo at Beacon Hill Park. I’m lagging but manage. Once back on the road our guy Jeremy says to me “Get on Dave’s tire for a final sprint.”
I bang up to him as best I can feeling like I need another high gear. He’s flying. I’m pumping. He gives to me a bit so I can stretch to him to Fisherman’s Wharf, something like a finish line. The heart is beating and I’m feeling like I just did an intense early morning aerobics class. I thank the guys and confirm tomorrow morning’s hills - I’ll be there.
More fun riding in the pack!