My Life On A Bike

Trying to make sense of cycling and traning is something at which I’ve never been very successful.  We began our mountain biking careers during the grassroots days and were all learning this new budding sport together.   I often think, “if I knew back then what I know now, then…”.   Well, as we get older we think that about pretty much everything.   Since half of my life is spent on a bike though, I really could have done some things differently, but where is the fun in that?!   There would be no lessons learned, no funny times to look back on and laugh or roll our eyes.

Looking back on some pics from the Norba race in ‘94, the difference just in riders’ stances struck me, never mind the whole change in bikes and equipment!  Training techniques were still somewhat simple.  We had heart rate monitors and you taught your body to ride at that magical threshold number as long as possible.   You showed up for the group ride du jour and did your best to hold on to the  pack.  That was as fancy as it got.  In the wintertime, we drug out the windtrainers and congregated at a bike shop for an hour while someone shouted out timed intervals.

I will never ever ever forget the beauty of it all coming together one May morning in Helen at the 1994  Norba Nat’l.   I did a lap the day before with a couple of the Pro Women and absorbed every piece of advice they spoke.  “Always give it an extra punch at the very top of a climb and you’ll put distance on your competition, psyching them out in the process.” That’s one card I ended up playing on race day.  Guess what?  She was spot on.  A rider had closed in on me halfway thru a lap and I was not very happy about that.  Right as I crested a climb, that advice echoed through my head, so I clicked it down a gear to pump it over the top as fast as I could.   Never saw that rider again.

I ran that race to textbook perfection.  Kept my heartrate right at AT even though I had to watch 3 other riders race off ahead of me.  But then like reading an action novel, I clipped them off one by one until only 1st place stood in my way.  At that point I was pretty thrilled over the prospect of placing 2nd and felt she deserved 1st since she was racing so strong.  We got to the last “wall” climb and I saw her dab just ahead and realized that this was my golden chance.   It was now or never and I had to pull this off.

To this day I remember it all in great detail.  I gathered up every ounce of resolve I had and set out to conquer the climb and take 1st place.  Rather surprised that I made it past the gnarly part, it felt like I was outside my body watching someone else pull it off.  Seeing the high digits on my heartrate monitor brought me back to reality and that’s when I realized how smart it had been to keep my HR at AT prior to this point.  I was dipping majorly into the red zone and it would be a matter of minutes before a large explosion would detonate, but thankfully I had this reserve available.    Passing guys left and right, I was on the greatest mission of my life and did not want to blow it.

As I rounded the last turn in the singletrack, I heard the voice of one of my friends exclaim, “It’s Laurie, it’s Laurie!”   Obviously we were both equally shocked that I was the first to emerge from the woods towards the Finish Line.   It was one of the sweetest victories of my life and I owe it all to the fact that for a brief moment in time, I was able to make sense of it all.  That was the only time all the pieces fell into place perfectly and it all made sense.

Time marches on and things get more complicated.  Rather, we make them more complicated.   The harder I try, the less effective my efforts seem to be.  The more I scratch my head and try to make sense out of things that make no sense at all.  Like, why is it that the harder I tried, the slower I got?   Having almost come full circle, I see now that there is no sense to it.  I have stopped “trying” and am just “doing”.  Doing what I love.  Riding.

We do not all have to do the same thing.  It took me a long time to figure that out.  Just because all our friends were racing did not mean we had to race.  Some people are born to race and are naturals at it.

Take my friend, Greg (pictured behind the guy in red).  He is a freak, in a very very good kind of way!  It would make no sense for Greg not to race, because he was born to do this.  From the first day he ever joined us on a group road ride (on his mtn bike, no less), we knew he was different from the rest of us and destined for great things.   Sure, Greg can annihilate most any rider around, but that’s not why I revere and respect him so much.  He’s high on my list because he is not obsessed with his performance nor feels the need to regale me with a play by play of his latest conquest.   When we ride together, we chat as friends that share the same passion for riding.   Greg has made sense of it all and knows that there’s always another ride, another race, another challenge and all that matters is enjoying what you do when you do it.

I have been riding every possible moment lately since the forecast was for rain all weekend long.  It’s not that I’m training for anything, I just want to be outside riding as long as the weather allows.  Making sense out of training is futile for me.  My body does not play by the rules and I challenge any trainer to put me on a program and have it actually work.  I gave up on that a long time ago.  I had my one glory moment and quite frankly, I don’t want it anymore.  It is too painful.  Training is painful.  Racing is even more painful.  I am tired of that pain.  No pain, no gain.  It’s true.

Ten years ago, I would be all in a tizzy over this rainy weekend and my lack of training hours.  The Tuesday night crit is starting up, and I would need to be in shape for it.   See that painful grimace on his face?  Yea, that’s the pain I don’t miss!

The only thing that concerns me now about lack of riding hours is the lack of calorie burning.   I ride for fun, but I also ride for chocolate!   Chocolate consumption.  You have to put in the hours if you want to put in the chocolate.  Makes perfect sense.   No ride, no chocolate.  Big ride, lots of chocolate.  Now you’re talking sense.

With all the non stop riding we’ve been doing, I haven’t had any time to stop by and see my friends at Douceur de France. It has been entirely too long, so I was almost embarrassed when I saw Danielle.  Luc’s chocolate creations are the only confections that get my seal of approval and I recommend them without hesitation.   If you’re ever near the Marietta Square, head south about a half mile and stop in for a real treat!

With a big weekend of riding, my body was ready for a rest week, but I had to keep riding to stay ahead of the upcoming rain.  By  Thursday I was ready to fall over, but  went for one last ride before calling it a rest.   By all accounts, I should have been toast and barely able to pedal, but I went to Kennesaw Mountain anyway.  My legs were sore and tired and I was exceedingly cranky, but the more I rode the happier I became.   I ended up pulling out two of my best climbs there ever.  Huh?  That didn’t make any sense?!

Grinning from ear to ear, I laughed at how illogical it all was.   I never know how I’m going to perform when I start a ride, but I don’t really care about that anymore.  I’ve finally found my niche in the cycling world.   I now subscribe  to the no laughter, no gain rule.  If there’s no laughing or fun involved, then it’s not on my training program.  Now THAT makes all the sense in the world to me.