Tried to run this morning. Got a whole 40 yards before I called it quits. The hip tightened immediately and I felt the spasms coming on. I hope in a couple days I'll be able to manage some running, but for now it's starting to bum me out. I need to be running, if only to run with my team.
Galloway, Allen, and I met at BNL a little later and swam. At least this went well! I swam a mile, and thought it was one of my slower efforts, I could do it. That's a blessing. Between riding and swimming I should at least be able to maintain some fitness.
Allen and I planned to start riding a little earlier tonight. He had a conflict with the later ride, and I wanted extra/insurance against the impending rain. I felt there was a good chance the ride tonight would get canceled, so my plan was to get at least 30 miles in before that time.
I was close to right. When I arrived, Allen was in his street clothes. This meant he had no intention to ride, so I turned my attention to unloading my bike. The clouds were gathering in the northwest, and I had little time to discuss the issue with Allen. He came over, hemmed and hawed over what I already knew he would say. "Don't worry about it, Allen. Don't go. I'm going." I said. I didn't care he felt it was a bad idea and didn't want to go - in fact, that was a bit of a relief. I couldn't have Kedra mad at me again! Now the whole thing would be on me and me alone, and if this was to be my end, so be it.
Allen tried to talk me out of it. He kept asking if I'd seen radar (I had), if I knew where the storms were (I did), and if I knew how bad they were becoming (I did). I'd already made up my mind I was going and that I'd probably get wet, and nothing was going to change my mind. However, if I was to have any chance of staying dry, I had to stop talking about it and take off.
"You aren't going to talk me out of it, Allen." And with that I left.
Now don't let the preceding paragraphs be taken to mean I felt Allen was wrong - I knew he was right. I just didn't care. This whole bike thing has me pretty depressed at the moment and I'm sick of inaction. I worked all winter long for tremendous fitness and all that time appears to be wasted on a summer in which I'm not going to manage any more racing. Frankly, I'm about as bummed right now as I've ever been about this whole thing. Even if the Cannodale hurts my right hip the whole time I ride it, even if it's slower than the Kestrel, at least I can train. The bike's been wet before, it will be wet again. The cost of going out might be high, but the cost of not going out just might be higher.
I headed deep south. For a while I considered going to French Lick, but the storm was growing, spreading south faster than I could go. That option was out. I went as far south as Wesley Chapel Church, then turned east. This allowed me to outrun the rain for a bit. I crossed 37, went a bit east, then dipped south again. Briefly it sprinkled, but soon stopped, and I was dropping down toward Highway 57. About a mile north of that point I turned east, then north, and it was back to 337.
Now it was decision time. I had an hour and fifteen minutes until the main ride. Storm clouds were gathering west and south, and the thunder and lightning was starting. I briefly went east on 337, considering a run to the county line, but I knew as I moved along that was foolishness. The storm was getting stronger too quickly to make that a viable option. I turned north at the next road, headed past Liberty Church, and back to the car.
Back at the car I wiped the bike down and stowed it in the car. I felt tired, really tired. It was probably the swim, as I've done little else. I had time to kill, so I went to the gas station and got a snack. By the time I got back the guys were showing up. The clouds still hung in the south, but they all seemed willing to go. I considered going again, but I'm pushing my leg already, and thought the better of it. Thirty-four miles of biking is not a bad day.
Tomorrow I need to both swim and bike again, assuming I can't run. I will give it a shot with the girls, but I'm not holding out any hope...
Galloway, Allen, and I met at BNL a little later and swam. At least this went well! I swam a mile, and thought it was one of my slower efforts, I could do it. That's a blessing. Between riding and swimming I should at least be able to maintain some fitness.
Allen and I planned to start riding a little earlier tonight. He had a conflict with the later ride, and I wanted extra/insurance against the impending rain. I felt there was a good chance the ride tonight would get canceled, so my plan was to get at least 30 miles in before that time.
I was close to right. When I arrived, Allen was in his street clothes. This meant he had no intention to ride, so I turned my attention to unloading my bike. The clouds were gathering in the northwest, and I had little time to discuss the issue with Allen. He came over, hemmed and hawed over what I already knew he would say. "Don't worry about it, Allen. Don't go. I'm going." I said. I didn't care he felt it was a bad idea and didn't want to go - in fact, that was a bit of a relief. I couldn't have Kedra mad at me again! Now the whole thing would be on me and me alone, and if this was to be my end, so be it.
Allen tried to talk me out of it. He kept asking if I'd seen radar (I had), if I knew where the storms were (I did), and if I knew how bad they were becoming (I did). I'd already made up my mind I was going and that I'd probably get wet, and nothing was going to change my mind. However, if I was to have any chance of staying dry, I had to stop talking about it and take off.
"You aren't going to talk me out of it, Allen." And with that I left.
Now don't let the preceding paragraphs be taken to mean I felt Allen was wrong - I knew he was right. I just didn't care. This whole bike thing has me pretty depressed at the moment and I'm sick of inaction. I worked all winter long for tremendous fitness and all that time appears to be wasted on a summer in which I'm not going to manage any more racing. Frankly, I'm about as bummed right now as I've ever been about this whole thing. Even if the Cannodale hurts my right hip the whole time I ride it, even if it's slower than the Kestrel, at least I can train. The bike's been wet before, it will be wet again. The cost of going out might be high, but the cost of not going out just might be higher.
I headed deep south. For a while I considered going to French Lick, but the storm was growing, spreading south faster than I could go. That option was out. I went as far south as Wesley Chapel Church, then turned east. This allowed me to outrun the rain for a bit. I crossed 37, went a bit east, then dipped south again. Briefly it sprinkled, but soon stopped, and I was dropping down toward Highway 57. About a mile north of that point I turned east, then north, and it was back to 337.
Now it was decision time. I had an hour and fifteen minutes until the main ride. Storm clouds were gathering west and south, and the thunder and lightning was starting. I briefly went east on 337, considering a run to the county line, but I knew as I moved along that was foolishness. The storm was getting stronger too quickly to make that a viable option. I turned north at the next road, headed past Liberty Church, and back to the car.
Back at the car I wiped the bike down and stowed it in the car. I felt tired, really tired. It was probably the swim, as I've done little else. I had time to kill, so I went to the gas station and got a snack. By the time I got back the guys were showing up. The clouds still hung in the south, but they all seemed willing to go. I considered going again, but I'm pushing my leg already, and thought the better of it. Thirty-four miles of biking is not a bad day.
Tomorrow I need to both swim and bike again, assuming I can't run. I will give it a shot with the girls, but I'm not holding out any hope...
No comments:
Post a Comment