Learning To Crawl

I've been trying to make myself hurt.

  

I used to be quite good at it. Not the falling down kind of hurt. That came later. The kind of hurt where you bury yourself in an effort, ignoring all of the signals to back off or stop. I used to know how to ignore them. These days? They dictate my riding.

I'm a slug.

  

So, I have to work my way back into it.

  

For the past month I've been at a radar site near McGrath, Alaska. Friends of mine that ride fat bikes know it as a waypoint along the ITI course. That's in the winter. Right now it's not at all like that. For one thing, there are four major wildfires in the area. Lots of smoke. Today visibility was less than 1/4 mile. Great for the lungs, even indoors. Then there's the temperature which has been around 90F for over a week. If everything wasn't already burning to the ground around me, the oppressive heat would just torch it. And me.

  

I grew up where temperatures were like this in the summer, and used to deal with it (like I had a choice). Now, after 20 years in Alaska, I have trouble sleeping when it gets above 70F. I read something recently that said because of the angle of the sun and some other factors, hot feels hotter up here. I’m not sure I buy that, but maybe it’s just because being disgusted with my weaknesses is my new default. I’m not as tough as I once was.

  

So, this is probably not the best place or time to ease back into sucking it up. Or maybe it’s the perfect place.

  

In the morning, I get on the trainer at 3:45AM for an hour, banging out whatever wattage I have in the legs that day. Nothing structured, just steady riding. I soak a towel and drape it over my head and back to cool me off, which helps some. Some days a number will pop up on my Garmin that I haven’t seen for a while. “Hello old friend”, I say to the number that I used to consider mundane. I try to engage it in a long conversation, but after a couple minutes it abruptly walks off. It’s better than me now and has more important things to do. I understand. I’m not as tough as I once was.

  

I have to rush to shower and get downstairs to start cooking breakfast for the 20 or so people here. This go-round that’s pretty much the biggest part of my job. The kitchen gets to be over 100F at times with the ovens and various cooking appliances going, and if I’m not careful I get dehydrated and end up with charley horses in both legs. That’s always fun. The only good thing about cooking and this heat for me is that I don’t want to eat as much. I could do with a lot less eating.

  

After work and a nap, I try to get on for another hour. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I really don’t beat myself up about skipping the second workout after a long day, because I am trying to listen to my body more these days. I have figured out gutting through a ride when you’re exhausted is a good way for my fitness molehill to come crashing down. It’s not like when I had a desk job and was pretty much at rest when I was at work. Now I’m on my feet and moving all day long. At nearly 50, it’s quite the adjustment, but I think it’s good for me.

  

Some days are good, some days aren’t so good. I try to keep it all in perspective. I’m still moving.

I get home in mid-August, after all of the major road racing is done. Everyone will be looking forward to ‘cross and fat biking. I’ll just try to squeeze in as much riding as my body will stand before I head out again to some other remote part of the state. That’s my new reality, and so I have to fit being a roadie around that simple fact.

I need to lose the weight.

I need to push the wattage.

I need to harden the fuck up.

  

Simple as that.