Alaskan Pack Fodder

As I write this, I'm sitting in a recliner in front of my newest bike, which also happens to be my oldest bike.    This one is a 2002 Merlin Agilis, a race-oriented titanium bike which had S&S couplers installed at some point. I was surfing eBay one day, came across the listing, started bidding, and before I knew it I was the proud owner of yet another bike I really didn't need.    I already have a steel Ritchey Breakway CX that has traveled all over the state with me. It's seen nothing but virtual miles on the trainer since the day I built it up a year and a half ago. Despite the best efforts of TSA, its orange power coat looks as good as the day I had it applied. It doesn't creak or show any sign of weakness. It has served me well. I just had S&S couplers installed on a Moots Compact. It's sitting at home in its case, half built because I simply haven't had the time between trips.    So, why in the hell would I need a third travel bike? That

I've been here for three weeks now.    I've done longer stints. I've done harder stints. This one really isn't particularly grueling... except it is. The world is falling apart, and I'm watching from the sidelines.  In some ways, I should be thankful. My chance of infection while I'm here is nil. Everyone here has been on-site for as long as I have, before the first case was reported in Alaska. As I write this, I think we're up to 32. It will probably jump a bit more as more people are tested, but the four of us probably aren't going to make the list. At least, not until some of us leave in a couple weeks. We'll see how this all plays out.    To be honest, I guess the worst thing that could happen is that the guy who is supposed to replace me in a couple weeks gets sick and I have to stay longer. Or travel is suspended and I have to stay longer. Or pretty much any of the other 1000 scenarios that run through my head during downtime happen and I

It's hard to get much more isolated than where I am now. If you look at a map of Alaska, and imagine it's the silhouette of bear reaching out to Russia, with the bear's ear being Utqiagvik (or Barrow for you die-hard racists), I'm sitting on the very tip of the bear's nose. There's four of us here. Until the 80MPH winds roared through and blew the pack ice away, we were outnumbered by polar bears. Probably still are.    My wife is at home in Anchorage, dealing with school closings and toilet paper shortages. I don't envy her. I'm isolated from that sort of stuff. Not many people coming or going in the short term.    I hope it has mostly blown over by the time I head for home. With my luck, it will probably just be hitting the villages around then, and I'll get a face full of COVID-19 as soon as I step off the plane. Welcome back.    Like everyone else, I'm in wait and see mode, hunkering down and waiting it out. How bad will it get? Not t

So, four weeks have passed since I wrote the last post. Magic of blogs, I guess. I packed up the bike and the trainer the night before my flight, just like every other time I leave a radar site. Crank out a workout, then pack up.    Except I didn't fly the next day. Or the day after that. It took me five days of waiting to catch a break in the weather. I didn't put my bike back together. It sat in the case outside my door, waiting for me to leave.    I had a total of nine days scheduled between stints. Five of them were eaten by travel delays. I could have ridden when I got home, but I had a list of things to get accomplished and bags to repack for the next go-round. I didn't ride. Then I was delayed in Kotzebue for a couple days...   Thirteen days of not riding didn't do much for my fitness.    So, first chance I got I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and got back to it. It's what I do.    I hope at the very least I can get back to where

I would say "putting it all on the table", but I don't really have that mindset anymore.    That is to say, I used to bury myself on the trainer, to the point that walking a few feet became an area of concern. It was one of... no wait, scratch that... my only real strength. I don't really have a true athlete's capacity or mentality. I know enough of them to realize this. I'm pretty average, which makes me better than 95% of the population. Think about that, and then reflect on how sad it is. All of that potential (and not just athletic), wasted. What I did once have is a pig-headed determination and competitiveness, fueled mostly by self-delusion.    Well, you have to play the cards you're given.    These days I see consequences that I ignored before. Fall in a crit? You may not be able to work and support your family. Stomp out an eye-bleeding workout? You may not be able to ride gain for a few days.    I liked it better when I was ignorant.   

There's basically two approaches:    The first is to rest when you're tired.    The second is to push harder when you're tired, until you're completely exhausted.    The first way appeals to me, because it's so much easier to find excuses to quit when everything isn't 100%. The longer you follow this thought process, the less often you're at 100%, so you can quit pretty much all of the time. That means more naps, and I like me some naps.    The second is less fun. Gutting through a workout with dead, sore legs and a heart rate brushing your max is not a lot of fun. You don't hit any incredible numbers, and any post-workout endorphin rush is blunted by the persistent ache and fatigue. On the upside, properly applied strain makes you stronger. As long as you don't grind yourself down to a nub, and make an effort to recover properly, the body adapts.    The last couple days have been a grind. I peaked during a long workout this weekend, really