Dude, Back Off.
I'm in California, but I pre-loaded a few posts just in case I didn't get around to writing them while I was hobnobbing with rodents.
It was fortunate that the temperature dropped ten degrees and the rain started falling. That seems weird to type, but it's true. When it's warm and sunny and perfect I'm driven to squeeze as much as I can out of it. I know how few and far between those days can be. Problem is, when I get a string of those days lined up I can dig myself a hole that is perfectly-sized for every bit of fitness I have.
Chilly, rainy days are a natural way to stop the progression.
On those days, I don't want to do intervals. I don't want to push hard, fighting the wind to beat some PR set on an otherwise ordinary stretch of tarmac. The fenders and shoe covers and rain jacket and other foul weather kit come out. Maximum heart rate is never approached. Efforts are limited to short bursts to get up a rise in a reasonable amount of time. Afterwards, pop-ups on Training Peaks ask me, "seriously- is that all you've got?"
Yep.
Sometimes you have to take a step back to take a leap forward (or even maintain your current level). When the sun is shining, it's easy to forget about reality. Rain has a way of reminding me about balances and finding the positives in less-than-optimal situations. Guys that don't ride when it's "icky" out are the first to give up when the weather turns during a race. At least, that's what I tell myself as I risk pneumonia and falls on rain-slicked pavement.
Finding some sort of normalcy after a brutal spring is something I have to be thankful for. Being tired all of the time from riding is better than being tired from being sick all of the time. Maybe I can salvage something out of this shit-show after all.
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After the performance bumps I got from each race, I started getting overly enthusiastic. "Now it's time to get to work!" I kinda forgot I was old and falling apart, and that an occasional easy day coupled with rest days will probably do far more for my capacities than beating my head up against a brick wall.
Each morning I woke up with new and fascinating aches and pains, and each afternoon I tried to ride them away. Sometimes it worked, but mostly it just added to the next day's tally.
Chilly, rainy days are a natural way to stop the progression.
On those days, I don't want to do intervals. I don't want to push hard, fighting the wind to beat some PR set on an otherwise ordinary stretch of tarmac. The fenders and shoe covers and rain jacket and other foul weather kit come out. Maximum heart rate is never approached. Efforts are limited to short bursts to get up a rise in a reasonable amount of time. Afterwards, pop-ups on Training Peaks ask me, "seriously- is that all you've got?"
Yep.
Sometimes you have to take a step back to take a leap forward (or even maintain your current level). When the sun is shining, it's easy to forget about reality. Rain has a way of reminding me about balances and finding the positives in less-than-optimal situations. Guys that don't ride when it's "icky" out are the first to give up when the weather turns during a race. At least, that's what I tell myself as I risk pneumonia and falls on rain-slicked pavement.
Finding some sort of normalcy after a brutal spring is something I have to be thankful for. Being tired all of the time from riding is better than being tired from being sick all of the time. Maybe I can salvage something out of this shit-show after all.
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