Water Weight.
I pressed my helmet to my forehead, watching the rivulets of perspiration fall from the sweatband to the pavement. Seeing the shocking amount of moisture the thin strip of foam contained, I was reminded that I probably should be drinking something to replace what was flowing down the hill I was climbing.
The weather has taken a dramatic turn, with cloudy days with highs in the upper 40s transformed overnight into blue skies and temperatures in the 70s. Knee warmers, wool socks, cycling caps, and base layers have been shed. I've started evaluating my collection of kit, ranking them by ventilation features.
Low 70s may not sound hot, but that shift of almost 30 degrees in a short time hasn't allowed me to acclimate properly- especially when climbing. When I'm cruising along on the flats, the wind keeps everything more or less pleasant. When the road turns up and the breeze stops, my fat acts like a crock pot. Unless you're a member of the Donner Party who isn't counting calories, it's not a pretty sight.
A switch from the Storck to one of my Madones resulted in an unexpected bump in climbing ability. I'm still slow and painful to watch, but something about the geometry allows me to grind my way up the hill slightly faster. I have no good idea why there's such a difference, and I'm smart enough not too look too close lest the magic wear off. Accept it and use it.
I still haven't done any climbing at race pace, as I'm still getting used to the sustained suck. Rather, I'm focusing on breathing and staying loose, with the hope that building good habits will help me build in the long run. I've been described as an asthmatic locomotive by people with the misfortune to be in my vicinity during a hill-climb, so I've put this on the "areas for personal growth" list.
The Spring Stage Race kicks off this Friday, and I'm going to get stomped on. New faces and old faces are going to conspire to humiliate me in order to reduce the amount of trash-talk that will come out of my mouth. These efforts will be for naught, as I've never let a lack of personal results stand in the way of an insult.
Four stages of fun and bitter disappointment (five if I do the crit the night before). I expect to lose a lot of water weight, which I'll replace with Goldfish crackers. Goldfish swim in the water. I lost water. Eating Goldfish is an efficient way to replenish what I've spilled all over the tarmac.
Makes perfect sense.
The weather has taken a dramatic turn, with cloudy days with highs in the upper 40s transformed overnight into blue skies and temperatures in the 70s. Knee warmers, wool socks, cycling caps, and base layers have been shed. I've started evaluating my collection of kit, ranking them by ventilation features.
Low 70s may not sound hot, but that shift of almost 30 degrees in a short time hasn't allowed me to acclimate properly- especially when climbing. When I'm cruising along on the flats, the wind keeps everything more or less pleasant. When the road turns up and the breeze stops, my fat acts like a crock pot. Unless you're a member of the Donner Party who isn't counting calories, it's not a pretty sight.
A switch from the Storck to one of my Madones resulted in an unexpected bump in climbing ability. I'm still slow and painful to watch, but something about the geometry allows me to grind my way up the hill slightly faster. I have no good idea why there's such a difference, and I'm smart enough not too look too close lest the magic wear off. Accept it and use it.
I still haven't done any climbing at race pace, as I'm still getting used to the sustained suck. Rather, I'm focusing on breathing and staying loose, with the hope that building good habits will help me build in the long run. I've been described as an asthmatic locomotive by people with the misfortune to be in my vicinity during a hill-climb, so I've put this on the "areas for personal growth" list.
The Spring Stage Race kicks off this Friday, and I'm going to get stomped on. New faces and old faces are going to conspire to humiliate me in order to reduce the amount of trash-talk that will come out of my mouth. These efforts will be for naught, as I've never let a lack of personal results stand in the way of an insult.
Four stages of fun and bitter disappointment (five if I do the crit the night before). I expect to lose a lot of water weight, which I'll replace with Goldfish crackers. Goldfish swim in the water. I lost water. Eating Goldfish is an efficient way to replenish what I've spilled all over the tarmac.
Makes perfect sense.
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