You gotta start somewhere. Those are the words that have echoed in my mind for the last little while. This blog mirroring real life, I have had real intentions about training and writing. Each one derailed by the idea that it has to be done right or not done at all while the reality of the situation is that it just has to be done. To start, to type that first word or to throw the first leg over the bike, it has to start somewhere ...and with that I am off on the next story.
Small steps. My 6to1 training plan taking shape in three rides a week.
I have stayed in silence, fearing that it was another false start. My challenge was to get going. But now a few weeks in I am starting to think it has begun.
Rest and recover. Each time I climb off the trainer I need to sleep. I climb off and lie down. But slowly, the legs and the desire are coming back one ride, one nap at a time.
Finding motivation where I can. The threat of embarrassment, the stubbornness to finish a video all push me along if I can just climb on which leads me to questions.
Why is it the first 30min is always the hardest? These are the dead minutes where time stands still. I have not had a ride yet this year where I have not been convinced I would only be able to last 30min. Once there, the clock is reset and I get on with it...Surprising myself later when I climb off after the unthinkable long ride happens.
I am reminded that the last 30 always feels bad too. The count down to climbing off not coming fast enough. Sudden explanation why a 1hr ride feels so bad. My resolve or my solution now is to never ride 1hr. More is a challenge and a chance to enjoy at least part of the ride.
It's not perfect, but for now it will do.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Secret training
Racing means stories. No matter how hard, how bad or how great. Each pedal stroke spins the legends and laughter that no doubt will follow. Miss out and you have missed everything. The glory and the results will fade,but the the stories will grow.
As a result I have been back in the fire. Seeking out bigger races and ridding the horn of the saddle trying hard not to come unglued.Digging deep and racing better than logic can explain. Some might think I have I stumbled onto some secret well of fitness that I have been hiding or that I am out to prove something, but the reality of it is my 6 to 1 training plan sometimes is more than I can do.
But being down on fitness is no problem.I race head on into the stories that await; racing with a willingness to open the throttle just to see what happens.Wondering how long or how far can I hold it. Running it hot until the tale starts weaving itself in plan view while others observe to add colour commentary later in the car ride home.
I was going to write about the races. Had the intention of writing the big race report. The " I did his, they did this" kinda recount that would have you riveted to your seat. But then , it all sounded the same. For now I going to go race. I am sure a more entertaining store will surface.
As a result I have been back in the fire. Seeking out bigger races and ridding the horn of the saddle trying hard not to come unglued.Digging deep and racing better than logic can explain. Some might think I have I stumbled onto some secret well of fitness that I have been hiding or that I am out to prove something, but the reality of it is my 6 to 1 training plan sometimes is more than I can do.
But being down on fitness is no problem.I race head on into the stories that await; racing with a willingness to open the throttle just to see what happens.Wondering how long or how far can I hold it. Running it hot until the tale starts weaving itself in plan view while others observe to add colour commentary later in the car ride home.
I was going to write about the races. Had the intention of writing the big race report. The " I did his, they did this" kinda recount that would have you riveted to your seat. But then , it all sounded the same. For now I going to go race. I am sure a more entertaining store will surface.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The Bank
I was drunk on the Olympics but now my post Olympic hang over reminds me that I need to ride.Every success and triumph triggered some strings and helped me to realize that the dream is not dead...now let's see where it will take me. No delusions of grander, simply put, I want to ride.
The key to training is to find a distractions, or to more importantly, to find a target. Be it something or someone, use it properly and positively and you are on your way to the greatest story every written...well at least you will think so. My problem was I didn't really have one until an idea took hold and without even thinking, gravel roads and head winds suddenly became my classic.
Images of the hard rides and the hard men that rode them push me , make me smile, and turn every pedal stroke . I can see the likes of Van Petegem, Museeuw and Taffi all toughing it out, glancing over with a knowing smile and a silent nod to this madness.
Each time out my tires sink and the wind holds me back . I finish the ride busted but not broken.Cranked but not cracked ,my first thought are of food , then to sleep.
I hear banter and back slapping of 190km+ rides and I could go crazy thinking that I am behind if I take that approach but I don't. Each rider, each person has their different approach and I feel good. The simple truth is I have ridden more 3hr rides this Feb/march than I did all last summer. My 6to1 bank account growing ever so slowly and I can't wait for the next ride.
The key to training is to find a distractions, or to more importantly, to find a target. Be it something or someone, use it properly and positively and you are on your way to the greatest story every written...well at least you will think so. My problem was I didn't really have one until an idea took hold and without even thinking, gravel roads and head winds suddenly became my classic.
Images of the hard rides and the hard men that rode them push me , make me smile, and turn every pedal stroke . I can see the likes of Van Petegem, Museeuw and Taffi all toughing it out, glancing over with a knowing smile and a silent nod to this madness.
Each time out my tires sink and the wind holds me back . I finish the ride busted but not broken.Cranked but not cracked ,my first thought are of food , then to sleep.
I hear banter and back slapping of 190km+ rides and I could go crazy thinking that I am behind if I take that approach but I don't. Each rider, each person has their different approach and I feel good. The simple truth is I have ridden more 3hr rides this Feb/march than I did all last summer. My 6to1 bank account growing ever so slowly and I can't wait for the next ride.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Ground zero
Funny how you forget things...or rather, funny how things come back. The last few weeks I have been trying to get of the ground. Zero to hero doesn't come easy when you haven't been doing much. I am not sure what alarm bell went off, or what was the catalyst was, but suddenly the need, or more importantly the desire to train is back. 2010 is finally underway so I am back into the fire. Two weeks and counting. Here are the highlights.
Week one.
I went skiing, two thoughts ensued.
1. Did I ever know how to ski?
2. DID I ever know how to ski?
I rode the computrainer. Time stood still so I ushered each second along personally by keeping an eye on the count. Churned out 1.5hrs and needed to sleep 3. Surprised that the nap seemed to last half the time.
Rode outside. Fought the fist of a cold headwind for more time than I should. Down for the count afterwards, I needed to sleep again.
Get up, Get up. The shouts of encouragement from my corner, my entourage lift my legs onto the pedals when all that is left is an amber of where I want to be. Bring on week two.
week two.
Went skiing with my brother. Skiing in his wake silently hoping that his effortless strides would rub off. Remembering,and feeling like I know what I am doing. If for only 2hrs, I was a skier.My answer to the questions the week before being yes, I think can ski. Better wax my skis again.
Round two with the heavy weight. Armed with 950g (each) studded tires and a little bit of sunshine. The wind threw a punch but I ducked into some trails. Bob and weave. Back on the road after some off road excitement. 2.5hrs later and I was still awake. Awake dreaming of the next foolish ride outside. Waiting for the next sucker punch that the wind has to offer, I will be ready.
week three
One day down. Bring on the next.
Trainer ride. One week I am suffering, the next week I AM THE CHAMP.Holding the reigns in to 1.5hrs by ignoring the seconds and minutes that passed....but I think I need to sleep.
Funny how you forget things...or rather, funny how things come back. Ground zero is just a starting point.
Week one.
I went skiing, two thoughts ensued.
1. Did I ever know how to ski?
2. DID I ever know how to ski?
I rode the computrainer. Time stood still so I ushered each second along personally by keeping an eye on the count. Churned out 1.5hrs and needed to sleep 3. Surprised that the nap seemed to last half the time.
Rode outside. Fought the fist of a cold headwind for more time than I should. Down for the count afterwards, I needed to sleep again.
Get up, Get up. The shouts of encouragement from my corner, my entourage lift my legs onto the pedals when all that is left is an amber of where I want to be. Bring on week two.
week two.
Went skiing with my brother. Skiing in his wake silently hoping that his effortless strides would rub off. Remembering,and feeling like I know what I am doing. If for only 2hrs, I was a skier.My answer to the questions the week before being yes, I think can ski. Better wax my skis again.
Round two with the heavy weight. Armed with 950g (each) studded tires and a little bit of sunshine. The wind threw a punch but I ducked into some trails. Bob and weave. Back on the road after some off road excitement. 2.5hrs later and I was still awake. Awake dreaming of the next foolish ride outside. Waiting for the next sucker punch that the wind has to offer, I will be ready.
week three
One day down. Bring on the next.
Trainer ride. One week I am suffering, the next week I AM THE CHAMP.Holding the reigns in to 1.5hrs by ignoring the seconds and minutes that passed....but I think I need to sleep.
Funny how you forget things...or rather, funny how things come back. Ground zero is just a starting point.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Ride the line
Training advice #1. Make a plan and tell someone else. Have them agree and then call them out. The next thing you know your committed to training. Either you all ride or you get bragging rights. Either way , you win. With that, it was on!
The winter season has begun and what better way to do it then to go for a ride. Call it recon for next year, call it getting a jump on training, call it what ever. Last weekend I found myself riding in a snowstorm with the Kid. "Hard men" we kept saying as we fishtailed down the road in the increasing snow laughing at those who bailed. Images of Paris Roubaix winners, cyclocross champions and the list of hardmen that won them played in my mind...until the wheels slid out from beneath me and I slid down the road contemplating pulling the kid down too.
I hopped back on and decided the best way to stay upright was to take about 60psi out of my tires. I thought tires bled over the course of a week but apparently not as much as I thought. And just as quick the ride was back on. Each snowflake making us feel that 2010 was underway and already on a good track. Hard manning it down the road planning the next adventure ,laughing all the way.
There is a fine line between hard man and crazy man and judging by the looks of the drivers that passed us, we were the latter. Thinking about it now, the crazy laughter probably didn't help.
The winter season has begun and what better way to do it then to go for a ride. Call it recon for next year, call it getting a jump on training, call it what ever. Last weekend I found myself riding in a snowstorm with the Kid. "Hard men" we kept saying as we fishtailed down the road in the increasing snow laughing at those who bailed. Images of Paris Roubaix winners, cyclocross champions and the list of hardmen that won them played in my mind...until the wheels slid out from beneath me and I slid down the road contemplating pulling the kid down too.
I hopped back on and decided the best way to stay upright was to take about 60psi out of my tires. I thought tires bled over the course of a week but apparently not as much as I thought. And just as quick the ride was back on. Each snowflake making us feel that 2010 was underway and already on a good track. Hard manning it down the road planning the next adventure ,laughing all the way.
There is a fine line between hard man and crazy man and judging by the looks of the drivers that passed us, we were the latter. Thinking about it now, the crazy laughter probably didn't help.
Monday, November 23, 2009
tweeked
Like any well planned training plan,the 6to1 training methodology is tweeked from time to time for optimal results. The blog has been silent for the past two weeks as I worked out the specifics moving into the weight training end.
Since this site seems to be all about the numbers or lack there of. Here are the numbers for the last two weeks.
1500to5,3.5to1,1to3
Wanna be strong, pound stakes into the ground. Not one, not two, try 1500. (ok, so this was divided up with 3 hammers so that leaves 500each ) Pound them until you can't feel your arms, then string 5km of tape for a little hand eye coordination.The RWR Anvil cross race has some logistics that can be worked into the 6to1 plan so a few others jumped in for the training camp.
Can't feel your arms or legs? Perfect, now run it hot. That was the formula. It worked so well I didn't feel the hack pin job that went right through my skin until the throttle was shut off after the race. The four letter word that came out of my mouth started with N and ended in ASH.
"What worked once should work again" I figured so the next morning I warmed up for the Provincials by pulling stakes out of the ground and stacking lumber for 3.5hrs before the race. I then ran it hotter than ever and was really cruising. Like a full size SUV hell bent on a speed record, I had it matted in a calculated race to see if the tank was big enough. The tank might have been big enough but there was one problem that didn't get factored in . Someone forgot their gas card and had to go through the ashtrays searching for coin because cash is king at Timmy Ho's. Needless to say, with about two laps to go in the race ,it seemed as if David Suzuki himself had jumped out from a tree Ninja style to cut the gas line to end my full throttle excitement. NO gas,no go.Just a carbon footprint in the ass reminding me that if I am going to run it hot, I better get some offset credits in the form of food.
Since this site seems to be all about the numbers or lack there of. Here are the numbers for the last two weeks.
1500to5,3.5to1,1to3
Wanna be strong, pound stakes into the ground. Not one, not two, try 1500. (ok, so this was divided up with 3 hammers so that leaves 500each ) Pound them until you can't feel your arms, then string 5km of tape for a little hand eye coordination.The RWR Anvil cross race has some logistics that can be worked into the 6to1 plan so a few others jumped in for the training camp.
Can't feel your arms or legs? Perfect, now run it hot. That was the formula. It worked so well I didn't feel the hack pin job that went right through my skin until the throttle was shut off after the race. The four letter word that came out of my mouth started with N and ended in ASH.
"What worked once should work again" I figured so the next morning I warmed up for the Provincials by pulling stakes out of the ground and stacking lumber for 3.5hrs before the race. I then ran it hotter than ever and was really cruising. Like a full size SUV hell bent on a speed record, I had it matted in a calculated race to see if the tank was big enough. The tank might have been big enough but there was one problem that didn't get factored in . Someone forgot their gas card and had to go through the ashtrays searching for coin because cash is king at Timmy Ho's. Needless to say, with about two laps to go in the race ,it seemed as if David Suzuki himself had jumped out from a tree Ninja style to cut the gas line to end my full throttle excitement. NO gas,no go.Just a carbon footprint in the ass reminding me that if I am going to run it hot, I better get some offset credits in the form of food.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Bluring the numbers
I was living the lifestyle of a pro. Jetting around from race to race and living large in nice hotels. Flying out to Edmonton for nationals and then jetting to Toronto for the UCI races.My ratio keeping me going despite frozen fingers and Elk speed intervals in Jasper.
But now the ratio is all out of whack. 'Looked back on my training (applying the word loosely here) since I got back from the nationals and it seems the blog should be called 1.5To1. But, there is a way to blur the numbers. It ain't pretty but it works. Just run it hot. The hotter the better. You will either go well or you will forget that you haven't trained when the oxygen feeding your brain has gone elsewhere to try to keep you on your bike. So that is what I did. So much so that I was sitting in the car afterwards wondering if I actually needed to move the car, needed to change or needed to sleep. The only thing keeping me awake were the tails from the cheap seats that kept me laughing. Misery loves company and is the reason I travel to races with others. The Muppet show balcony seats are a good place to be, especially when the whole cast is there.
But now the ratio is all out of whack. 'Looked back on my training (applying the word loosely here) since I got back from the nationals and it seems the blog should be called 1.5To1. But, there is a way to blur the numbers. It ain't pretty but it works. Just run it hot. The hotter the better. You will either go well or you will forget that you haven't trained when the oxygen feeding your brain has gone elsewhere to try to keep you on your bike. So that is what I did. So much so that I was sitting in the car afterwards wondering if I actually needed to move the car, needed to change or needed to sleep. The only thing keeping me awake were the tails from the cheap seats that kept me laughing. Misery loves company and is the reason I travel to races with others. The Muppet show balcony seats are a good place to be, especially when the whole cast is there.
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