Let me start off with this little gem: no matter how good an idea it seems at the time, flying home Monday morning and hitting the ground running by arriving at work by noon is NOT a good idea. Please learn from my naive mistakes.
Weekend in FL was awesome - Michelle got a crash course in my family history (we did give her a little bit of alcohol to dull the shock), we visited with my grandfather and my uncle/aunt, watched the sun set on Clearwater Beach with an old friend after dinner, spent a day on the beach and spent an evening in Ybor City. All that in 3 1/2 days ! No wonder Monday was a drag.
Now, to the point of this post. Stick with what you know, or stick with what you're good at. Since we were sooo good and didn't bring bikes, we had to do SOMETHING in order to justify eating. Like any good cyclist, I'm sure that indicates some sort of eating disorder but we'll just gloss over that. Michelle has been running for weeks now and me? I haven't been running since I was in FL last December.
I remember distinctly feeling great about doing something different. I felt like I was really going good and I decided to keep going. The thing about that is that once you realize you're not doing so well, you're miles away from home. I got home but the next two days were not pretty. Nothing more sexy and appealing than a female hobbling around, unable to go up or down stairs and generally looking like a drunk trying to sit down or stand up. You'd think I would have remembered that hard lesson but no, I need continuous refresher lessons.
So on Saturday, I was bound and determined to keep up with Michelle. I'm certain she slowed down for me to prevent from having to carry me back, but I still felt like we went at a pretty good clip. We ran for 30 mins before I asked for a reprieve and we walked for about 5 mins. I got up my courage again and we ran for another 15 min before I finally called it. Things were starting to hurt - shins, the arch of my foot, my right knee. She patiently walked as I hobbled home. By the time we got cleaned up for our dinner out in Clearwater, I remembered my prior lesson, a little too late. We drove the 45min to the restaurant and I could barely get out of the car. The next morning, Michelle suggested the gym and I believe I whimpered out loud.
Thankfully we were in the water most of the day Sunday, so that took some of the stress away. We refined our nerf football throwing (not) and basically swam around and gossiped. Hey, we're girls, we're allowed. Walking up and down stairs in Ybor City was not pretty, but Michelle was kind enough not to mention that I looked like a penguin as I walked. She's a good friend.
First day on the bike yesterday and it was pretty ugly. Thankfully I missed the Davidsonville ride (didnt get out of work on time) because I would have been OTB in no time flat. Hopefully Greenbelt tonight will be a bit better.
Lessons learned: trail-running shoes are not appropriate for street/sidewalk running -stop being a cheapskate and buy a real set of running shoes. keeping up with a former track star and marathon runner when you haven't run in 6 months is not exactly smart. putting sunscreen on once in the morning doesn't do the job when you're in the water and on the beach for 5 hours (Miche, you should know better!). Bottom Line: stick with what you're good at - I ride a bike. I don't run. If I do run, its not pretty and I shouldn't pretend that it is.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
TGIF - 7/25/08
So, I'm what they have termed a "short-timer" at work today ... I'm leaving this afternoon for sunny Florida to visit my granddad. Teammate and good friend Miche is going with, so we're looking forward to a couple of days evening out bike tans, sipping fruity drinks and catching up on our summer reading.
Yes, we're perfectly aware that we will attract some stares. Because we look like svelte panda-bears in bathing suits. Only amongst bike-racers is that look hot. And sometimes not even then (see pic ... no, the tans don't automatically happen if you dope, no, chickens don't tan more or less than "normal" cyclists. Bad joke, sorry, Christina). The rest of the world thinks we must be rednecks with farmer-tans.
Yes, you can bet I turned off all accessible water pipes prior to leaving the house this morning.
And yes, I know they recommend never telling people that you're going away but I reference again my circa 1980 TV and say hey, if they really want it that bad.... besides, my attack-cat (Cassius) would protect his house. At least he'd look real tough and hiss before he ran away.
My OCD is kicking in pretty good, though - I was excited and even righteous about NOT taking the bike on my weekend getaway. It was all talk ... as I ran through the house grabbing last minute essentials (they don't sell q-tips in florida, do they ?) I thought more than a second about whether I still had time to pack my Seven as a stowaway. But you see, I'm smarter than the average bear - which sounds very cliche but better than "I'm smarter than me". I didnt leave enough time for me to backpedal (no pun intended) on the whole "I'm-not-bringing-a-bike-because-I-have-more-self-control-than-that" thing.
I'm back to being righteous about all that. So there.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Teamwork - A Rambling Definition
Teamwork in racing is a fickle thing. Only one person can win, so the whole thing is a bit of a dichotomy. I've found that teams that work have a few common characteristics, and teams that REALLY work have a couple extra ones. So here goes:
1. Common goals. ie win the BAR, win a jersey... or to manage to show up with a full kit and a working bike. It's all relative.
2. Firepower. To fulfill said goals. Having a team of sprinters does no good (you'll all be sprinting each other for the line). Having a team of leadouts does no good (leading out someone else's team of sprinters?).
3. Knowledge and honesty. If your teammates don't know that a leadout means sacrificing your finish for the team, you're in trouble. If your teammates fulfill their domestique role by sucking wheel all race while you chase down everything that moves until you keel over, unable to breathe, much less curse at them, you're in trouble. If your teammates constantly lament that their gloves were too tight, they got behind the wrong wheel, their brakes felt funny, their chain dropped and/or they are still hungover from last night, you're in trouble. Although the hangover bit is probably honest. The rest is BS because they couldn't close gap, hold onto the wheel or close the race.
4. Communication. This doesn't mean yelling at teammates to cover everything while you, the non-designated, non-sprinter, sit in. It does include yelling at non-teammates to cover everything while you sit in. It does mean communicating when your individual goal (say, to win) doesn't agree with the team plan (say, you're supposed to do the leadout).
5. Support. Not just $$ - although that certainly helps. I mean when a teammate drops back to bring your sorry butt back to the field because you're so cheap that you're running old tires with a thousand patches and, surprise, landed a pinch-flat at poolesville. I mean when a teammate gives you his/her bike from the sidelines so you can finish the race after you cook a turn (that was awesome!!). I mean when I show up at the line, no waterbottles, unpinned with my saddle bag still on the bike and my teammates smile as they help me pull together. Yes, they will talk about me later, but right now they're supporting me. Volunteering your significant other to feed and otherwise entertain your team is uber support. Thanks, Robin.
6. Share in the good, share in the bad. When the team succeeds, party together. When things go poorly, you resolve the issue together. Usually without violence. Usually.
7. A common disdain for mediocre performances. Or, a common acceptance of mediocre performances. Hey, as long as you're on the same page.
"Extra" characteristics for "Extra" success:
1. Dedication. Every weekend, every race, every team ride ... you know the drill ... you're there come rain or shine. Because your teammates depend on you. And/or because you have no other life.
2. Friendship. You actually know the people you ride with. And like them anyway. Showing up at a race in the same kit and introducing yourself to "teammates" doesn't qualify.
3. Passing the 10-hr car ride test. This is a deal breaker. If you wind up dropping your teammate off in North Carolina (I'll be right back, I'm just going to run to the gas station for some coffee), that is a big, red flag. First off, you wouldn't be getting coffee from a gas station unless you were desperate. Second, North Carolina is only about 5 hours into the ride. You're racing solo by the time you get to GA for the Twilight Crit.
Its getting to be that time of year (Silly Season) where teammates are quietly jockeying for other options, spreading rumors about other teams, doctoring up their palmares (5th is 5th, right ? whether it was a 3/4 race or a 1-2-3 race. no one needs to know) and searching for the few people they have not yet pissed off that might still be open to welcoming them as a new teammate.
Admit it - some of you are running out of options. I suggest that you re-read the above to determine where you've gone wrong. Or become president of a team so they can't get rid of you. I'm not saying anything, I'm just sayin'.
1. Common goals. ie win the BAR, win a jersey... or to manage to show up with a full kit and a working bike. It's all relative.
2. Firepower. To fulfill said goals. Having a team of sprinters does no good (you'll all be sprinting each other for the line). Having a team of leadouts does no good (leading out someone else's team of sprinters?).
3. Knowledge and honesty. If your teammates don't know that a leadout means sacrificing your finish for the team, you're in trouble. If your teammates fulfill their domestique role by sucking wheel all race while you chase down everything that moves until you keel over, unable to breathe, much less curse at them, you're in trouble. If your teammates constantly lament that their gloves were too tight, they got behind the wrong wheel, their brakes felt funny, their chain dropped and/or they are still hungover from last night, you're in trouble. Although the hangover bit is probably honest. The rest is BS because they couldn't close gap, hold onto the wheel or close the race.
4. Communication. This doesn't mean yelling at teammates to cover everything while you, the non-designated, non-sprinter, sit in. It does include yelling at non-teammates to cover everything while you sit in. It does mean communicating when your individual goal (say, to win) doesn't agree with the team plan (say, you're supposed to do the leadout).
5. Support. Not just $$ - although that certainly helps. I mean when a teammate drops back to bring your sorry butt back to the field because you're so cheap that you're running old tires with a thousand patches and, surprise, landed a pinch-flat at poolesville. I mean when a teammate gives you his/her bike from the sidelines so you can finish the race after you cook a turn (that was awesome!!). I mean when I show up at the line, no waterbottles, unpinned with my saddle bag still on the bike and my teammates smile as they help me pull together. Yes, they will talk about me later, but right now they're supporting me. Volunteering your significant other to feed and otherwise entertain your team is uber support. Thanks, Robin.
6. Share in the good, share in the bad. When the team succeeds, party together. When things go poorly, you resolve the issue together. Usually without violence. Usually.
7. A common disdain for mediocre performances. Or, a common acceptance of mediocre performances. Hey, as long as you're on the same page.
"Extra" characteristics for "Extra" success:
1. Dedication. Every weekend, every race, every team ride ... you know the drill ... you're there come rain or shine. Because your teammates depend on you. And/or because you have no other life.
2. Friendship. You actually know the people you ride with. And like them anyway. Showing up at a race in the same kit and introducing yourself to "teammates" doesn't qualify.
3. Passing the 10-hr car ride test. This is a deal breaker. If you wind up dropping your teammate off in North Carolina (I'll be right back, I'm just going to run to the gas station for some coffee), that is a big, red flag. First off, you wouldn't be getting coffee from a gas station unless you were desperate. Second, North Carolina is only about 5 hours into the ride. You're racing solo by the time you get to GA for the Twilight Crit.
Its getting to be that time of year (Silly Season) where teammates are quietly jockeying for other options, spreading rumors about other teams, doctoring up their palmares (5th is 5th, right ? whether it was a 3/4 race or a 1-2-3 race. no one needs to know) and searching for the few people they have not yet pissed off that might still be open to welcoming them as a new teammate.
Admit it - some of you are running out of options. I suggest that you re-read the above to determine where you've gone wrong. Or become president of a team so they can't get rid of you. I'm not saying anything, I'm just sayin'.
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