The Ride That Wasn't

Those that know me well can say a lot of things about me (disclaimer: nothing they say is binding in a court of law), but the one thing everyone knows is that I am super-disciplined when it comes to my workouts. I have been known to rise in the mornings long before the proverbial roosters crow and stay up way past my witching hour to fit in a workout. During my tenure on my previous women's team, I was usually one of the instigators of outdoor rides despite the cold winter weather. When teammates or friends join me for a ride in my neck of the woods, they know to be prepared for an epic journey.

The dusting of snow on Saturday prevented my weekly 65mile (+/-) ride ... we all know I've hit the deck a few too many times in the recent years and I'm so not going to tempt fate. The second the words ice or snow are uttered, I'm out. A two hour ride on my rollers (have I mentioned lately how rockstar my e-motion rollers are?) gets the job done but it's just not quite the same as hauling my off-season bum over the hills, so I was bound and determined to get in the weekly ride with my unnamed training partner on Sunday.

Yeah, I knew it was going to be cold, but I'm tough. Yes, being cold is one of my least favorite things in the world, perhaps second only to lack of sleep (that's not just bad for me, that's bad for everyone in my path). Dammit, I was going to get my ride in.

I arrive at our meeting point at 10am, as planned, completely ignoring the thermometer on my car that reads 24degrees. I commence putting the wheel on my bike, resetting the SRM, layering the vaseline on my feet and my face, breaking out toe-warmers and hand-warmers. There is a nagging voice in my head (one of many) that reminds me that my "Oh-Hell-No" temperature was 32degrees. I ignore the voices. My partner-in-crime is going through the same motions and neither of us say a word. Neither of us want to be the one to call it.

So, off we go, stubborn pride and sheer idiocy intact. Did I mention the wind on Sunday morning? Looking at the weather afterward, windchills were in the low teens. WAY below my Oh-Hell-No limit. No words are exchanged but I'm thinking that this little jaunt is going to be a death-march from the get. We are about 5mins down the road and I am already losing my fingers to the cold. That's with 2 layers of gloves (including a wind-proof layer) and a hand-warmer. I finally break the silence with "You know this is insanity, right". Response: "Yep". About two minutes later I call it. Something to the effect of "This is stupid. What the hell are we doing? I'm already losing my hands and we're not 10mins into this ride."

We loop around and head back to the cars. Good thing because it took me the whole drive home to get full feeling back in my hands. Who the hell suits up for a friggin' bike ride in 14degrees? Who do I think I am??!

I take off my bike shoes to drive (also remembered to take off the helmet - I've found people look at you funny if you're wearing a bike helmet while driving a car. Not that I know that from experience or anything), head back to the warm heat of my house and my beloved rollers. I pop in a fantastic Spinervals workout - Have Mercy. It's fantastic because it features workouts from various Spinervals videos from the beginning so the bikes, the kits and the hair-do's are all entertaining. You can catch several local hot rods in all their trainer-glory. And it's a killer workout. I go from frostbite to melting - sweating buckets. This is funny because I had a thin layer of vaseline on my face, anticipating windburn on a cold winter ride (as an aside, it also helps snot slide off your face if the occasion comes up). Indoors, the vaseline simply lets sweat slide down your face in sheets. Then you wipe your face with a towel and things get real nice and gooey.

Two hours later, having switched over to the Ravens game after 1hour of the workout video, I was toast. 4hours on the rollers in one weekend is more than enough. During that time, I made peace with my inner-idiot and decided that this one was out of my control (I can't tell you how painful it is to say something is out of my control ... really). So there you have it, the ride that wasn't.