The Wheels On The Bus...

...fall off.

After a week of steadily improving performance, Saturday it all blew up.

After I warmed up a bit, I did a 15 second sprint effort. Nothing earth-shattering, but solid and well within my normal range for that sort of thing. Immediately after, my legs felt rubbery. I recovered for a few minutes and went for a 20 second sprint. Again, a decent interval, then nothing.

Subsequent efforts produced similar results. I had a moderate amount of pop, but no endurance to back it up. No matter what I did, I was struggling to maintain power levels that were a breeze all this week. As soon as I started putting even a moderate amount of power out, my heart rate would shoot up and I'd start sweating heavily and struggling. When I'd back off, everything would be fine.

It wasn't in the tank Saturday, and I can't say it's completely unexpected.

First, my whole house had been in various phases all week. Runny noses, hacking coughs... At any given moment someone was hating life. It very well could be that it's my turn.

Second, was is the end of a workout cycle for me. For the last month the intensity has been slowly ramping up. While the goal is to reach the very end and blow up spectacularly during the last minute, the timing isn't always quite that precise. Sometimes I roll into a recovery week with an excess of energy, which leads to me going too hard and completely ruining the intent of the easiest week in the cycle. Some end up like Saturday, where I fizzle out before the finish. To be honest, I prefer the latter, because at least I know I left it all on the table.

Sunday at the Dome confirmed my fall from form was complete. Short bursts of energy were followed by feeble tires at maintaining anything resembling a respectable pace. I tried to hang in the draft, but eventually I had to drift off and pedal my squares alone.
I'll do my best to follow the recovery week schedule. The ache in my legs indicates it won't be that hard to do.
No way to get around it. Getting older sucks.


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