Beaten and Broken – my path to 46 Miles…
Beaten and Broken – my path to 46 Miles…
It has been a long time since I quit. I mean just thrown my hands up in the air and said fuck it, I am done and just walked away from something. Getting beat on the bike takes a lot of different criteria all coming together and making you so overwhelmed that you just can’t go on.
I do remember the last time I quit. I was in Watsonville, CA. It was during my tri training. I had a horrible day on the bike. There was some guy who was stuck sweeping me in. Hill after hill kicked my ass. I was not having any fun. So, got off the bike and said to the guy “Fuck it I am done”. I think he was a little dumb founded and didn’t know what to say or do. So, he got on the phone and called the coaches, but by this time, I had determined I was not going to quit and I got back on my bike, and I finished the game, and I did finish the game. I might have gotten a tow up the last big hill, but in the end I did it. Me and that guy shared a moment after it was done, and I made a large donation to his TNT account for the help he had given me.
Thinking back to the day in the middle of the vast strawberry fields and thinking back to this Sunday, I can just say it is not just one thing, but a series of things that can make you pull up and say, “Fuck it, I am done!”
I think the number one thing is and always will be answering the all-important questions that is “Are you having fun?” I have come a long way in my physical and mental journey that has crossed decades and an uncountable number of pant sizes. When it comes to physical activity if you can’t say in all sincerity tat you are having a good time, then what is the point. I get you must push the body. However, if you hate what you are doing, why do it. When it becomes a chore to do, when you don’t love it, then it isn’t repeatable. So, anyone who is out there looking for a healthier life, I say to you fuck what the trainers say, or what the experts say, go find something you love and do it. For me that was the game of triathlon because it combines two of my loves, the bike, and the swim. I have come to love cycling both inside and out. I do lift weights, which is not a love of mine, but I know it helps support the bike. Also, what I do is very functional, and I can apply it to everyday life from squatting down to giving the puppy love, to lifting and moving boxes. However, what I love is the bike and I love it because when I do it 90% of the time it is fun. Sunday at 30 miles was not fun anymore and this led me to give up.
Some other items that contributed was a battle mental space. Headspace and fathletics (fat people athletics or as I call it fathletics) go hand in hand. If you aren’t in a good headspace you aren’t going to have a good time. If you aren’t having a good time, you aren’t having fun and if you aren’t having fun what is the point (see paragraph above). I was not in a good head space from the jump. I was wondering why I was doing so much mileage a week before my event, which, I think only came up because I had been in pain for the last week, and my schedule was off, and I didn’t start off with piss and vinegar like I normally do. Once the voices in your head start working on you and you don’t quiet them, then they tend to get loud and unruly. Negative self-talk sucks. It quickly goes from feeling bad, to wondering why you are doing so much work so close to event day, then it starts in on your body and being heavier than you were a year ago, then it spirals into death thralls.
Then you are going up your biggest climb of the day and you somehow screwed your gears up and you try to change them midway up the climb and the next thing you know your throw your fucking chain and you are 1/3 to ½ way up. It is hot, you are in the heat of the day, no shade, putting your chain back on, cursing the gods. You know there is nothing to be done but to head back down the hill, to find a spot to get on strong footing again and then go back up it. So, you like to do the climb twice or one and half times. It is at this point that you decide you aren’t going to meet up with the cycle club but instead go out to the lake and do some flatter riding.
Besides fun and what’s going on in your headspace the other thing is just how do you feel? How is the body holding up. I said earlier I have had some pain. The left hip feels like it needs to be rebuilt. It is constantly tight and sore. Funny enough though this was giving me no issues really on Sunday on the bike. However, after the first 25 miles I was feeling pretty worn out and tired. I look back at my fueling and I wonder if I am not feeding the body properly. Yes, snacking on crap is down. However, not really sticking to the guidelines provided to me of 40/45 carbs per meal, and around 30 per snack. I mean after all I am smarter than everyone, and I want to lose the weight I have gained over the last year, so I am trying to sly cut carbs on my own. When you cut carbs and train as an endurance athlete you are going to have a bad time. Eating a well-balanced rounded diet, with the carb levels mentioned before, is what I need to do. I really think my overall diet led me to bonking at the 25 miles mark.
So, let’s see we have now diet, fun, headspace, covered, the last thing and this is just a good life goal, is you must speak up for yourself and do what you want to do. I had decided not to ride with the club. So, why on gods earth when I pulled into Switchyard Park at 1:30 didn’t I just tell them that? Why didn’t I say “Hi, Y’all! I am on my own ride go have fun, see ya later.” I don’t know if it is my need to please people, or be like, but when I accidentally showed up at Switchyard at the exact same time as the club left, and they included me in the ride discussion, I just acted like I was there for them. Did part of me want to go climb with them? Yes. Had part of me wanted to be able to say look I combined Ellettsville ride with Muscatatuck? Yes. So, I think it was really the last question that won out in my head. I wanted to do something that was hard for me. However, I didn’t think about how I was feeling. However, by the time we got up Cascade I knew. I struggled up Cascade climb into the golf course. It sucked because cars were coming, and you are on a tight rope with the side of the road. I was hot and exhausted, and I was dragging ass so far behind everyone else. The big difference between me and everyone else is I had 25 miles in before I met up with them. I remember that now. However, then I just felt like shit. So, when we got to the stop sign and Allen the ride leader was waiting for, I quit. It was nothing dramatic like the time in the Strawberry fields. I just told him I was not feeling it and I was going to go back. So, the lady with him asked if I was having a bad day, I just said yes, then stuck in I had already been to Ellettsville and back and I wanted to get 50 today but 40 would have to do. My plan at this point was to straight back home. It would have put me at back-to-back 38-mile rides.
I road back towards 17th Street in shame. I had quit. What was I going to tell my coach? What was going to happen next weekend on the 62 miles? What had happened to me. I had felt so strong just a week ago, hot but strong. I tried to have a very human moment with myself, but I couldn’t. Not then. I peddled on. I wondered about having someone come and tow me in. Then I realized I didn’t know anyone I could ask to come get me. Who was I going to ask the dog walker? I have a couple of buddies, but they are big time riders and asking them would have brought on even more shame. I told myself no, I kept riding.
That is when things went from bad to worse. I got lost. I knew in general where I needed to go, but the road I ended up on was a big uphill, even bigger and uglier than our friend from last week, Mr. Stinky Cheese. I saw to college age kids walking by look at me and smile, and that smile said yes, you are fucked going up that hill. Things didn’t make sense; I hadn’t come down a huge incline to get here. It didn’t make sense I had to climb that to get back to the Bline. I needed a tow, but we had that conversation again in our head and came up with the same answer, no tow. I went left into an alley looking for something, anything other than going up that monstrosity. I found Woodburn. It was the road I was looking for. Holy Shit-balls something went right. I just keep telling myself just get home. Just get home. You can do it, just get home, the rest will take care of itself. Before I knew it, I was back on the B-line heading home. There was some relief.
I had run my water reserves dry and I knew of the water fountain on the B-line between Kirkwood and 4thstreet. Next to the good Captain. The good Captain is Captain Kathryn Janeway. She is the Captain of the USS Voyager, of which I know little to nothing about, I think they get zapped out into unknown space and have to try their way home. In the Show the good Captain is from Bloomington, Indiana and Star Trek or the city honored the character with a statue. Apparently, there is one in Iowa for Captain Kirk, but it is unknown to me if in Paris honors Jean-Luc or not, of course most of my knowledge comes from a discussion with a homeless man on the topic, and I have not spent any time researching. As I refilled my bottles, I felt myself calm down a bit. I decided I was going to sit next to the good Captain and take a spell to figure out my next move. I was at 32 miles. I would have hit 37/38 if I headed straight home then.
I sipped water and ate a PBJ and just reflected that I wished I had gone on my own to the lake and not with the club. I finally was able to have my very human moment. Sitting there looking at the good Captain who was lost somewhere in deep space. I really want to watch Voyager. I decided to say fuck it, I would get whatever mileage I got, and if it isn’t enough, well, I am human, and we have good days and bad days. I can ride 62 miles, and I will next week. However, I will ride my ride, at my pace, and finish whenever I finish. It is mostly flat, and I can do mostly flat. I forgave myself for calling it out at the Cascade Golf Course. I should have never been out there in the first place, riding with people who all had fresher legs than me. I should have followed my own path. I always do best when I do.
I mounted back onto Cylon. I pushed out and somewhere in my mind I decided I would ride out to the Clear Creek Trial end and just see where it took me. I wasn’t in a hurry. I was just out and about doing what I love.
The goal for the day was 50 to 55 miles. After, I went to the end of Clear Creek and back to Winslow, I knew I would come in at 46, so after my little sit down with the good Captain, I had added on another 14 miles. I was good with that. I toyed with the idea of riding back to switchyard for some water, but I didn’t want to run into the club again, so I just said, you know what 46 is good enough for a guy who was ready to quit at 30.
I think back to something Angela said to me when she gave me my JAWS socks and sent me the text: "Saw you new socks on the blog. You have passion and ferocity like Jaws! 🦈 It's what helps you move through obstacles and carry on with perseverance I admire. Have a fantastic day! 💪" I do have perseverance and I do have passion and ferocity and that is what got me through Sunday and what will carry me through next Sunday.
Sometimes, you need to have those very human moments when you are beaten down to stand back up and thank the good Captain for her time and push on. In those moments losses become wins. You bend but you don’t break and you get one step or in this case pedal stoke closer to your goal.
Comments
Post a Comment