It seems that when I have a few days off, time just goes by too quickly. I never know where my days went. This week has provided some interesting (crazy?) life scenarios. In no particular order...
The long ride incident:
On Sunday, my husband and I were out for our usual long bike ride. We were 80 miles into our 105 mile ride. We had just stopped to fill our water bottles and were leaving Fountain Hills when we passed a group of 4 people on bikes. I am refraining from using the term "cyclists" here.... The group was 2 guys, 2 girls, all appearing to be young- maybe early 20s. They had road bikes and helmets (thank God) but didn't really look like cyclists. They weren't in bike clothing. They were kind of all over the road, disregarding the bike lane.
As we passed them, my husband said to me, "something tells me they shouldn't be out here." My response was, "well, they'll figure that out soon enough." Little did I know...
We made the turn onto the beeline and rode side-by-side up the gradual incline, chatting about training. We hear a high pitched noise (turned out to be one of the girls) and I glanced back to see this foursome frantically pedaling up the hill. I gradually moved over in front of my husband to provide room for them to pass.
The first girl went by, quickly, but she made me very nervous as she didn't appear to have much control over where her bike was. She was followed by the second girl who pulled over in front of me, and then another guy who couldn't quite make the pass. By this point, we had hit the top of the incline and started down the hill into a headwind.
I paused briefly and then moved to pass girl #2. My husband passed me and I could tell he wanted to get away from this group. Unfortunately, after 80 miles, my legs didn't have enough juice to go with him. I watched him hammer off and then... girl #1 and guy #2 jumped onto his wheel (to draft). My heart rate immediately went up. Keep in mind... we don't know these people. There are people that I know that I don't want on my back wheel, let alone a stranger. I would never, ever, ever hop onto the wheel of a stranger. Ever.
I held my pace and waited for him to realize that I wasn't with him. When he did, he immediately backed off the pace, dropped back to where I was and let the twosome go. Not 30 seconds later, we hear the scream and watch as the girl skids on her back across the highway. As cars were slamming on breaks she jumped up quickly to avoid being hit. Our best educated guess is that she was following the guy too closely and hit his back wheel causing her to lose control of her bike.
I sat up out of my aero bars and thanked God that it wasn't my husband that had been taken down. Or me. We shook our heads in bafflement as to how we escaped this near disaster. Thankfully, the girl wasn't hit and no vehicles were injured either- everyone managed to stop without crashing. I didn't look, but my husband said her back was pretty ripped up. She was just in a tank top, no cycling jersey, and had nothing to protect her skin from the terrible road rash I'm sure she is dealing with.
I understand that everyone has to start somewhere, and we were all beginner cyclists at one point. But why the need to draft? I just don't get it. I spent years, YEARS!, biking at a 16 mph or slower pace. I didn't try to show off for my friends. I didn't draft. I didn't care. I was building my skills and my confidence and now, when my husband and I bike together we can share the load if we want to. In reality, our racing is not draft legal so we generally don't draft in training. But no matter what... it is completely unacceptable to jump into someone else's training uninvited. If she had caused one of us to crash, well, I am just not going to think about it.
The kitchen incident:
One of the things I like to do on my days off is cook a few dishes to get us through the week. When we are busy and don't get home until 7 pm it's easy to pop something in the microwave. This week I was making linguine with edamame pesto. So I steam the edamame and, working over the sink, I pop the peas out of the pods. I toss the peas into my food processor, and the pods into the sink.
When I'm done, I flip on the garbage disposal and within about 30 seconds I realize my mistake. Edamame is too fibrous and clogged the disposal. I spend 2 hours trying to get the sink unclogged. I am digging the shit out with my hands. I am plunging the drain. Nothing works. I am frustrated, sweating, and am pissed that not only is my kitchen a mess but I can't even run the dishwasher, which creates even more work for me.
Thankfully, we were given a referral to a great plumber who came out the following afternoon and fixed it within minutes. Lesson learned.
The running incident:
On Tuesdays, my husband does his long run. I coordinate and run my tempo run the same morning so that he can pace me. It works out perfectly. I go out for a warm-up, meet him back at the house, run the first 3 miles of his run with him at a perfect 7:30 pace, and then do my cool down back to the house.
Today, I was awake at 3:30 am. I stayed in bed until my alarm went off at 4:30 am. I got up, got dressed and ready to run and... crawled back into bed. My legs were soooo tired! All I could think about was the 3 super-fast girls I was going to have to keep up with on my bike ride later that morning.
I laid in bed, fully dressed, for 10 minutes. Then I got up. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment... and laid back down. A few minutes later I got up, again. I got out the door and ran to the front of the neighborhood (1/4 mile) and stopped. I walked in a circle thinking. My legs were seriously tired. I ran back to the house. By this time, my husband was awake and brushing his teeth.
I complained about how tired I was and that I wasn't sure if I wanted to run. Toothbrush in his mouth, he smirked and just kinda rolled his eyes. (He's used to my melodrama.) With a sigh, I turned and headed back out the door for a second time. I finished my warm-up and met him back at the house after 20 minutes, ready to start tempo.
"I'm only running two miles this week," I told him. We took off. For the first mile, I always struggle getting into the fast pace. I focus on his back and just try to stay close to him. We tick off the first mile. Mile two is feeling a little bit easier, but still not as easy as a few weeks ago. I keep telling myself, just hold on. Someone is going to podium in my age group at IMAZ in a few weeks, it might as well be me. Just keep working.
He gives me verbal cues as we run. I ask where we cross a specific road, he tells me 2 1/4 miles. "OK, I'll run till there," I say, thinking I can take a shortcut home but still not run the whole 3 miles. We hit the split for mile 2 exactly on pace. A few moments later we are approaching the intersection. "Just keep going!" I say. I finish out mile 3, 15 seconds faster than pace. We fist bumped and he kept going, with 16 more miles on his schedule. I turned and headed back toward the house.
It makes me laugh to think how many times I gave up on my run today, and I posted my fastest splits of the season. And, I had a great bike ride later that morning! On Ironman day, when the going gets tough, I'll be able to look back and remind myself that struggling and fatigue don't always mean I can't hit my goal.
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