This was the first week of daylight saving time. I want that hour back, now!
This week’s Phidippides workout was 12 x 400 meters; alternating moderate / fast. I averaged 1:16 for moderate ones and 1:10 for the fast ones. That 1:13 overall is what I averaged for 16 x 400 meters last August. This is what we call early season speed.
On Saturday we ran 23 miles in Waterton Canyon; twice up and down. Combining the two trips, we averaged 7:38 / mile going up and 6:55 / mile coming down.
The topic of weight came up. For the record I am 6’ 2” tall and weigh 172 lbs. That translates into a Body Mass Index of 22.1 which is right in the middle of “normal weight”; whatever that means. It would be nice if I weighed 165 lbs, but I love food too much to ever get down to that kind of racing weight.
While driving north on Wadsworth Boulevard returning from Waterton Canyon a pack of about 80 bike racers was making its way on the south bound lanes. It was a microcosm of my cycling career.
The impetuous young rider off the front, thinking he is the second coming of Merckx.
The strong rider at the front; pulling the pack along.
The strong and smart rider about five riders back waiting for the county line sprint before exerting himself.
The fit weekend warrior happily sitting in, enjoying a fine morning with friends.
The barely fit weekend warrior at the back working hard to keep that gap between wheels to under six inches.
And, at last, the rider who has been dropped; fighting vainly against the wind to catch back on.
There was a time when bike racing was everything to me. With few obligations, I rode about 500 miles / week. I had four bicycles, two just for racing. I made a vow that if I was no longer strong enough to ride with the pack, I would quit the sport. Then came the day when that happened; I was dropped like the f-bomb on The Jersey Shore. I wobbled home, hung my bike up in the garage and didn’t ride it again for about ten years. Life went on.
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