The Waste Land
The Waste Land, by T.S. Elliot, opens with the line "April is the cruelest month". To be honest, I really can't stand poetry. This is probably because I'm not smart enough, in touch with my feelings, or have some other deficiency in that regard. I'm just not built that way.
However, in this case I can completely agree with ol' T.S.
Sunday I shed my jackets and arm warmers for the first time, basking in the balmy 50F air. The forehead-pounding headwind made it a bit chilly, but I enjoyed the chance to shed a few layers and show everyone on the road just what 20 excess pounds looks like in skin-tight lycra.
Monday I bounded out of my cave-like workplace ready to do it all over again. I was promptly smacked in the face by big, wet snowflakes. It wasn't sticking to the still-warm ground, but with the temperatures hovering just above freezing and the wet roads, I decided to the garage to grind out a workout while watching Stein Devolder win the 2009 Ronde van Vlaanderen yet again. Sorry. Should have mentioned there would be spoilers in this post. After only a couple weeks on the road, riding the trainer is much harder than it should be. You think there would be some residual effects from 5 months of stationary sweating, but apparently not.
Tuesday I woke up to a back porch and lawn covered in an inch of snow. The roads were clear, so I loaded up my bike with the hopes of a nice day. By the afternoon, the snow was gone and the roads were dry. Off came the excess kit, and once again the world could bask in the sweat-enhanced glow of my fat rolls.
The digital readout on my scale is starting to edge down again. That means one of two things- either these additional hours on the bike are starting to pay off or the battery is dying.
The sinus infection that has dominated my life over the past couple weeks is finally starting to give ground. The 10 pills I'm taking a day (I'm not making this up) are slowly turning the tide. 3 of them are vitamins to supplement my diet that mostly consists of food in doughnut form, but the rest of the horse pills are choked down in regular intervals to kill the infection and its symptoms. I feel like an honest-to-goodness member of the 2004 US Postal cycling team every morning as I gaze at the pile of pharmaceutical wonders in my hand. I'll be happy when they're all used up, although I may miss sleeping with my codeine-laced guaifenesin cough syrup. I'm a filthy doper.
All of this has me debating the merits of doing a time trial this Saturday. I know I'm still not putting out 75% of usual meager power, but I'm interested to see how hard I can push myself in my current condition. I'd rather not knock my recovery back and ruin the early part of the season, so I'm taking it day by day. I'd also rather not knock my ego down any further with a horrible result. I already feel bad enough about my current form. Still, I know I need a little race-induced intensity to kick me into the next gear. Sometimes the fitness is there, but the mind just doesn't want to deal with the discomfort. Getting past the mind's somewhat excessive self-preservation defenses is a hurdle I deal with constantly.
I have a week-long conference coming up in the balmy temperatures of sub-tropical Tennessee (that assessment is based on my current perceptions), and I plan on piling on the mileage in the hills outside of Knoxville. I might even pay attention during the conference itself, although I make no promises. You have to have your priorities straight.
Until then, I'll deal with the variable weather and lingering illnesses. I'll deal with the 360 degree headwinds and on-again/off-again form. Why? Because I'm excited about riding. The glimmers of pleasant weather (for us) has made me crave riding my bicycles again. Not for weight loss, fitness, or for some vaguely-defined goal, but for the simple act of turning over the pedals. Sometimes I push it, sometimes I cruise, but having pavement under my tires is just a really cool thing.
Even if I'm riding across a wasteland.
However, in this case I can completely agree with ol' T.S.
Sunday I shed my jackets and arm warmers for the first time, basking in the balmy 50F air. The forehead-pounding headwind made it a bit chilly, but I enjoyed the chance to shed a few layers and show everyone on the road just what 20 excess pounds looks like in skin-tight lycra.
Monday I bounded out of my cave-like workplace ready to do it all over again. I was promptly smacked in the face by big, wet snowflakes. It wasn't sticking to the still-warm ground, but with the temperatures hovering just above freezing and the wet roads, I decided to the garage to grind out a workout while watching Stein Devolder win the 2009 Ronde van Vlaanderen yet again. Sorry. Should have mentioned there would be spoilers in this post. After only a couple weeks on the road, riding the trainer is much harder than it should be. You think there would be some residual effects from 5 months of stationary sweating, but apparently not.
Tuesday I woke up to a back porch and lawn covered in an inch of snow. The roads were clear, so I loaded up my bike with the hopes of a nice day. By the afternoon, the snow was gone and the roads were dry. Off came the excess kit, and once again the world could bask in the sweat-enhanced glow of my fat rolls.
The digital readout on my scale is starting to edge down again. That means one of two things- either these additional hours on the bike are starting to pay off or the battery is dying.
The sinus infection that has dominated my life over the past couple weeks is finally starting to give ground. The 10 pills I'm taking a day (I'm not making this up) are slowly turning the tide. 3 of them are vitamins to supplement my diet that mostly consists of food in doughnut form, but the rest of the horse pills are choked down in regular intervals to kill the infection and its symptoms. I feel like an honest-to-goodness member of the 2004 US Postal cycling team every morning as I gaze at the pile of pharmaceutical wonders in my hand. I'll be happy when they're all used up, although I may miss sleeping with my codeine-laced guaifenesin cough syrup. I'm a filthy doper.
All of this has me debating the merits of doing a time trial this Saturday. I know I'm still not putting out 75% of usual meager power, but I'm interested to see how hard I can push myself in my current condition. I'd rather not knock my recovery back and ruin the early part of the season, so I'm taking it day by day. I'd also rather not knock my ego down any further with a horrible result. I already feel bad enough about my current form. Still, I know I need a little race-induced intensity to kick me into the next gear. Sometimes the fitness is there, but the mind just doesn't want to deal with the discomfort. Getting past the mind's somewhat excessive self-preservation defenses is a hurdle I deal with constantly.
I have a week-long conference coming up in the balmy temperatures of sub-tropical Tennessee (that assessment is based on my current perceptions), and I plan on piling on the mileage in the hills outside of Knoxville. I might even pay attention during the conference itself, although I make no promises. You have to have your priorities straight.
Until then, I'll deal with the variable weather and lingering illnesses. I'll deal with the 360 degree headwinds and on-again/off-again form. Why? Because I'm excited about riding. The glimmers of pleasant weather (for us) has made me crave riding my bicycles again. Not for weight loss, fitness, or for some vaguely-defined goal, but for the simple act of turning over the pedals. Sometimes I push it, sometimes I cruise, but having pavement under my tires is just a really cool thing.
Even if I'm riding across a wasteland.
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