The first week of training is in the books and I've finally come across a rest day and a much needed one at that! Overall, I logged 2 hours in the pool, 2 hours running, and 23 hours on the bike...it should have been more had my crank stayed attached to my bike like it should have.
For Thursday, my cycling friends had a rest day scheduled and all I had for the day was a typical 3,000 yard swim. It seemed natural that the nicest day of the week would fall on a rest day. We all decided to go check out campus and being that it was so warm outside relative to Oregon, we put on shorts and t-shirts. Almost everyone we saw walking through campus wore a sweatshirt or something long-sleeved and pants. We kind of stood out. After grabbing lunch, we began walking back to our apartment and once again I needed to find a sponsor to get into rec center. Fortunately there was a group of girls walking across the street in front of the center so I walked across and politely asked. Thankfully they were nice enough to sponsor me even though I dawned duck gear. The swim for the day was based on long sets, but those days are my favorites. I feel that I can really fall into a rthymn and work on my stroke count and breathing. Apparently I don't like to breath much when I swim, but I am seeing the benefits of breathing often. After the swim I headed back and took the same old shake and nap.
Friday called for a ride in the morning and run in the afternoon. I set out the bike and as usual I kept my heart rate down and pushed the big gear. I didn't see anyone else on the road in the first hour and I turned around to head back. I was heading over rolling hills and reached a T-intersection and turned left. All of a sudden, I heard a bike coming up behind me. I hugged the line so they could pass. As the man passed, all I could do was laugh at myself. Here I am, 21 years old with a pretty high level of fitness being passed by a fairly round 50 something year old recreational rider. Usually I'm the type of guy who would attack or chase anyone and everyone! Heck, I used race cars through intersections when the lights turned green! However, I'm keeping my ego in check and am after the long-term benefit of having a strong base. I returned to the apartment and took a nap outside. In the afternoon I went out for my run. Same route around the outskirts of campus and I had the same results, within my target heart rate and at my cadence.
On Saturday morning, my two friends went to a ride called the "Shootout." Basically, everyone heads out of town together and once they pass the last stop light it's an all out race. I didn't go; instead I went out for an easy 4 hours. I worked on the same old stuff and enjoyed being out in the sun. For first three hours, everything went smoothly, I had my "dumb focus" where all I care about is my numbers and tempo and then I got thrown off. I started to notice that it felt like my cleat was coming loose on my left shoe since I felt a little separation when my pedal stroke went up and over. Then it hit me, it wasn't my cleat, my left crank arm was coming undone again! By this time, I was riding on city streets with mini-malls lining both sides, so I began glancing over all the storefronts for a bike shop. I found one and they tightened it saying everything looked fine. It remained firmly attached for the remainder of the ride, so I figured that was the last of my problems with it...or so I hoped.
Sunday was my big day with a goal ride time of 6-7 hours covering 120 miles. I left with my two friends thinking we could all stay together for the ride, but I dropped back within the first hour to ensure a low heart rate, then it was all solo riding. I don't know what goes through my mind for that long while in the saddle, but I guess I can think of a few things/people that would come across it every now and again. By the time I was 35 miles out of town, my nemesis reared its ugly head. My left crank arm was coming loose again! Luckily I had passed a gas station a few miles back that also had an Ace Hardware, so I went back and bought an allen wrench to take with me. Then it was back to the road in search of Kitt Peak. Along the way I ran into one of my friends who was turning back with problems of his own. I continued on but I had to stop every 30-45 minutes to tighten my crank, to say the least, it was kind of frustrating, but it surely wasn't going to make me turn back. Not before long, I reached the base of Kitt Peak and two signs welcomed me; one saying it was 12 miles to the summit and the other saying the peak's elevation was 7,000 feet (The elevation of Tucson is 2,389 feet). I figured I hadn't ridden 53 miles to get here and just look at the peak, so I began climbing. I did my best to focus on my cadence and heart rate, but there was no way I was going to be able to get up and get all the way back to Tucson before dark if I didn't give a little extra effort on the climb. Slowly but surely, I began passing the mile markers and elevation signs and each time I passed one I looked at them and thought, "Is that all you got?" but in truth, my legs were beginning to burn. Motorcycles and cars would come up and down the road and more often than not, they would either give me a thumbs up or roll down their window and say something along the lines of "Wow" or "You're nuts." For every car that went up and gave me encouragement, I felt I had to get up to the summit that much faster so they could see me at the top. Once I got to the 6,000 foot elevation sign, snow was lining the sides of the road and it made me think about all the YouTube videos I've watched of Lance training in the Pyrenees. About a quarter mile from the top I ran into Kennett on his way down and we rode up to the top together and decided to ride back together. The best thing about climbing 12 miles and summating several thousand feet is that you eventually have to ride down it. With the exception of a few icy spots near the top, the road was dry and the turns were long and predictable and this translated into a brakeless 40+ mph downhill extravaganza! Kennett and I met up at the base again and began our way back to Tucson. We started off with one-minute pulls holding about 25 mph but my legs were growing heavy from the extra effort on the climb, plus my heart rate was climbing so I dropped back and rode in at my pace. I got into town shortly before dusk and I was beat! I had eaten a lot during the course of the ride, but I did not eat nearly enough to offset the 5,300 calories I burned. In the end, my ride time came out to be 7 hours 35 minutes over 120 miles. I took a nap after, but I when the 30 minute alarm went off, my body probably wondered what the hell I was doing getting up already. I had good reason to get up, I needed food! And a lot of it! So the three of us went to Zachary's Pizza and we each ordered personal 14-inch Chicago style pizzas. Believe it or not, it was more than we could eat and that basically capped off the night, as I just wanted to sleep!
As week one comes to a close, I feel very good about how my training has progressed and how I've been making some good deposits as Matt says. I hope to have a strong second week as my workload increases. In the mean time, I'll be resting...a lot!
Thomas Cahill.
