Firing It Back Up.

I always have trouble transitioning from riding easy to intensity. As I get older, the shock to the system is magnified, as are the whining complaints from every corner of my body. With my advancing age, the number of bodily corners have grown as well, and lately it's been getting pretty noisy.

Today I transition from the rebuilding of a recovery week and begin a block of whacking myself in the head with a sledgehammer. At least, that's what it feels like. The dread I feel as I cross over probably makes it worse, but I can't help myself. It's not going to be pleasant.

We've turned a corner. After months of focusing on short, high-intensity bursts of power, I'm going to be required to grind out higher power for longer periods until the lactic acid bleeds through the lycra and starts eating the paint off my frame. Instead of blank, frenzied flurry of the sprint, I'm going to have time to reconsider my life choices in regards to training. I'm going to bargain with myself. I'm going to consider climbing off and burying my shame in double fistfuls of Goldfish crackers.

Thinking's the worst part about this sort of training. It's not hard enough to cause you to black out, but it's just hard enough to focus all of your consciousness on the tight little ball of suck that is your life at the moment.

All you have to do to make it go away is stop.

There's a big Costco box of Goldfish upstairs.

Might be something good on TV if you look long enough.

I could play a few hours of an iPad game until it's too late to get back on the bike.

...but hopefully I'll find the resolve to continue and follow through. I don't know where I'll find it, because I think I left it somewhere in the garage, but maybe I'll trip over some the next time I'm in there.

Time to embrace the suck.


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