You're Not Going Anywhere.
Monday I did the unthinkable.
Anchorage rain is usually of the annoying, persistent, and light variety. It slowly soaks through whatever you're wearing until each joint sequentially squirts out a stream of muddy water at different points of the pedal stroke. Usually I just deal with it, adjusting my attire so that if I'm going to be soggy, at least I will be comfortably soggy. Fenders and shoe covers help. I embrace being soaked, because the alternative is not riding. Sometimes I actually enjoy it, as the rain drips off the brim of my cap. You're in your own little world.
Monday was different.
With the Tour of Fairbanks so close, I didn't want to risk locking up my back by soaking it in cold water. Cleaning the bike and kit afterwards didn't thrill me, as my wife would take offense to yet more time spent away from the family on the eve of a selfish trip away from them. In the spirit of domestic tranquility, or at least the delay of outright hostilities, I took one for the team.
I got on the trainer.
The trainer dungeon was a mess. Boxes were piled high in a haphazard fashion. The trainer itself was in the back of the car. Pieces and parts required to actually do a workout were strewn everywhere. I had several updates to do on the computer that runs Zwift, and Zwift itself had 15 minutes of updates to load. Geez, it's only been a couple of months. I can't wait to wade through the morass I'll find in October.
Eventually I got everything sorted out and started spinning. It took me a while to get used to the static environment again, maintaining steady power levels instead of reacting to terrain or a dynamic environment. Once I was back in the groove, the time went relatively quickly. I wasn't going for a record-setting duration, just a solid hour to keep the legs moving and apply some measured stress.
The rain calmed down a bit, settling into a steady drizzle. The temperatures leveled out to around 50F. The roads were a series of linked puddles. In other words, it was a bit moist out there. In the end, I made the right decision to skip the outside ride. I may lose a few of my Flandrian Hardman points, but I need to try to keep my back loose. A cold, soaking ride in the rain, a 7 hour drive, and an uphill time trial in succession is a good formula for a very long and painful stage race. It's going to be bad enough even if I manage to show up fresh and unhurt.
I've got someplace to be, so I didn't go anywhere.
Anchorage rain is usually of the annoying, persistent, and light variety. It slowly soaks through whatever you're wearing until each joint sequentially squirts out a stream of muddy water at different points of the pedal stroke. Usually I just deal with it, adjusting my attire so that if I'm going to be soggy, at least I will be comfortably soggy. Fenders and shoe covers help. I embrace being soaked, because the alternative is not riding. Sometimes I actually enjoy it, as the rain drips off the brim of my cap. You're in your own little world.
Monday was different.
With the Tour of Fairbanks so close, I didn't want to risk locking up my back by soaking it in cold water. Cleaning the bike and kit afterwards didn't thrill me, as my wife would take offense to yet more time spent away from the family on the eve of a selfish trip away from them. In the spirit of domestic tranquility, or at least the delay of outright hostilities, I took one for the team.
I got on the trainer.
The trainer dungeon was a mess. Boxes were piled high in a haphazard fashion. The trainer itself was in the back of the car. Pieces and parts required to actually do a workout were strewn everywhere. I had several updates to do on the computer that runs Zwift, and Zwift itself had 15 minutes of updates to load. Geez, it's only been a couple of months. I can't wait to wade through the morass I'll find in October.
Eventually I got everything sorted out and started spinning. It took me a while to get used to the static environment again, maintaining steady power levels instead of reacting to terrain or a dynamic environment. Once I was back in the groove, the time went relatively quickly. I wasn't going for a record-setting duration, just a solid hour to keep the legs moving and apply some measured stress.
The rain calmed down a bit, settling into a steady drizzle. The temperatures leveled out to around 50F. The roads were a series of linked puddles. In other words, it was a bit moist out there. In the end, I made the right decision to skip the outside ride. I may lose a few of my Flandrian Hardman points, but I need to try to keep my back loose. A cold, soaking ride in the rain, a 7 hour drive, and an uphill time trial in succession is a good formula for a very long and painful stage race. It's going to be bad enough even if I manage to show up fresh and unhurt.
I've got someplace to be, so I didn't go anywhere.
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