why we do this, revisited

I still don't really know why we do intense, demanding, exhausting rides.
let me be more precise: I am unclear as to my own motivations to do things like that.
some possible reasons:

because it's there.
because it's good for me.
because I feel like I should.
because if others are doing it, I can do it.
because I'll feel better for having done it.
because it will distract me.
because it will hurt and sometimes hurt feels good.

these are sounding a little sick, aren't they?

I don't know that we can really understand our motivations behind much of what we do. yes, I vacuum and dust my house because I enjoy being in clean environments. but why? what lies behind that?
like the clean desk theory: we've all heard that a cluttered desk indicates a cluttered mind.
and that a clean desk implies an obsession with neatness. but what if one just functions best when they know where things are? how deeply do we need to look into our behaviors?
anyone who has read more than a handful of my posts could probably assess me as having the following traits:
determined, focused, committed, rigid, tenacious, dependable, purposeful, unswerving, stubborn . . .
I'm certain you could probably find a few more.
I accept all of these things about myself, yet there are times when I am truthfully a little uncertain of my motivations. the surface layer, yes. but down deeper, hmm.

then again, although the unexamined life may not be worth living, the overly-examined life can be exhausting, draining, and circular.

this morning I visited with some good friends whose dad (father-in-law, grandpa) had just died. he had been diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma years ago, and after three years of chemo and eight years of remission, his body finally gave in to it. the last days of his life were spent at home, with hospice support, and this touches just a little too closely all of my sensitive, achy places.
in talking with this gentleman's son-in-law this morning, I shared that I had, quite predictably, been thinking a lot about the whole life-transition-death process, and I still don't really understand it. my friend replied, I don't think we every truly do.
I think he's right.
I think what we do is to work through as much as we can, come to agreements with our higher powers and our inner selves, make peace with where we are, and let it settle into the backgrounds of our lives.
I thought I had it figured out years ago, and now I find that I really don't.

so we examine as much as we can, digging as deep as the ground and tools we own will let us, and then we have to patch things back up and move on. sprinkle a little water, hope that through our digging we planted something hopeful, rich and positive, and find the faith to keep moving forward. faith that what we don't understand will someday be shown to us, faith that we operate in our own best interests, and faith that the universal goodness within us all is somehow working together to move us each toward our own best self in our own best future.

39 miles with blue card people

I made good friends with zone 5 today.
I didn't particularly want to do so, but it's terribly difficult to be the caboose who holds up the train again and again, and again.

so I spent a lot of time in zone 5, struggling to stay within the same general neighborhood as my blue card riding buddies.
I knew I was in for it when I met up with the group and learned it was only three of them, and that none of my white card friends had made it.
bad sign.
I quickly planned my escape: we were riding out south, and I could get just so far and then tell them I needed to turn back and head home by myself. I really didn't have it in me today to do a 50 mile ride, and I wasn't sure just how energetic they were planning to be, so I just kept my little escape hatch brewing in the back of my mind as we rode toward the cottonwoods.
and then we paused at the bottom of big cottonwood, chatted about maybe just riding to the top of the next hill, and darn it, something happened during that pause that convinced me I could keep going just a little further.
well, of course we finally reached the top of the hill and, oh, let's just go a little further . . .
so at little cottonwood road we finally paused again to study geological features (the bumps and disgruntled surface of the wasatch fault), and plan our route back north.
in other words, I had to ride back with them as well, and darn it all, I am just not a blue card person.

but it's good to push yourself, right?

not a problem for this girl.

however, I do think that next weekend, given a good sunny riding day, I will work harder to recruit some plain-old white card people to hang with me.

boys in knee socks

I rode up the canyon the other day when the temperature was hovering in the upper 50's.
I wore capri length tights, a long-sleeved jersey, a headband, fingerless gloves. I brought a thin jacket for the way down.
it was a glorious ride: fresh air, rested legs, plenty of lung capacity, blue sky barely covered with near-translucent white clouds, and just enough snow hanging on the southern hillsides and dales to remind me that I am incredibly lucky to be out riding while it's still winter.
I was passed by four fast boys heading up, two on tri-bikes, all friendly enough, and three of whom were wearing knee socks.
giggle.
okay, I know they weren't really knee socks.
but here are these slender, muscular, athletic manly men out there wearing cycling shorts with socks that come to their knees.
I can't help but smile.

john suggested that they might be compression socks, so I've just spent the last little while googling every combination of cycling-compression-knee socks-athletic I could come up with, and I haven't been terribly successful. nothing I've found showed me a picture that looked like the cute little socks these guys had on.
giggle.

but I did find a reference to compression knee socks in Joe Friel's blog, where he shared his attempts to research the benefit of such things, having noticed their prevalence in the Hawaii Ironman back in 2007. (said research showed that they might have some benefit for exercising users with issues such as varicose veins and thrombosis, and that they may be of some help in reducing delayed-onset muscle soreness, but that was about it.)

and I did find a pair of compression recovery socks, that the manufacturer suggests wearing while traveling on airplane flights or after exercising, for just $50.

so maybe these guys were just cold. or perhaps they didn't have time to shave their legs that morning. maybe they raided their teen-age daughters sock drawers, just for the fun of it.
or maybe they just know things the rest of us don't know.
it's most likely the latter, because these were triathletes, you know. (that's that group of nutty people who swim a couple miles, then hop on their bikes for 112 miles, then run a marathon. see, I'm not far out there at all now, am I?)

whatever the truth may be, it was sure fun for me, and as these boys sped off up the hill I watched their muscular calves and pictured them in kilts, absolutely making my day.

experts

today I call the experts.
because as much as I've learned, as far as I've stretched and grown, as capable as I now am, there are still some things I just can't fix by myself.
here's the list of what in my house is currently in need of expert help:

• my reverse osmosis water filtration system. overflow valve flows all the time. also needs a new filter. number two I can solve, number one I cannot.
• my bathroom sink drain. I have two sinks, and they drain at the rate of one-half teaspoon per second. try it, you'll see, this is not good. I've taken every connection I can reach apart and pulled out all the goop I can find. I give.
• my icemaker. this hasn't worked for months and months, and I'm finally giving in.
• my dishwasher. it's never worked like one would hope a dishwasher should, but it's been tolerable until a week or two ago when everything plastic started coming out with a dry, white film on it. I've googled until I can't take it anymore and tried just about everything suggested, and guess what? white film remains. I give.
• my computer B. sunday evening it stopped conversing with the internet. monday I switched computer A with computer B and now A is speaking with the internet, but the wireless router won't play along. I have been through this before, and can barely stand it. last time (a mere 9 months ago) it cost me $300 and computer B's month-long absence. you know, there's really nothing that great about conversing with the internet anyway. I know, sarcasm doesn't get you anywhere. I give.

two interesting observations: first, most of my issues have something to do with water (hmmm), and second, everything is crashing around here right when power camp came to a close. it's like everything---all of us---held on, by the fingernails if necessary, to get me through the end of the the too-short-of-nights and weary-days experience.
and now all hell has broken loose.
so, I'm beginning today with the icemaker and the dishwasher. I'm calling in an expert.
and then I'm calling the orthodontist to make the appointment to get my daughter a new retainer to replace the one she lost sometime in the last few weeks.
then, perhaps, I might get on my bike and ride away to a land where there are no computers, dishwashers, water filtration systems, drains, icemakers, or orthodontists.

and that might just be enough for today.

real

power camp is over.
I rode my real bike out in the real world today under a real, blue, sky, while staring at snow-covered white mountains and being pushed, gently, by a genuine wind.
sigh.
it felt good.

soon will come not necessarily a moment of truth, but an assessment that will tell me the truth: as I transition to outside riding, I will learn whether or not all of the pain and exhaustion was worth it. given, the laughter and joking and kinship with similar twisted souls is a plus, no matter the physical outcome.
but it would sure nice to be just a little bit faster-better-stronger out there.

today was not a test.
today was a recovery ride, as I am in recovery week before the (I'm so embarrassed to admit this) power camp extension month begins. because even though camp is over, so darn many of us couldn't bear the thought of giving it up, the powers that be decided to offer a four-week reduced class schedule to keep us going.
yep.
beginning next monday, class will be held on mondays, wednesdays and fridays, at the beautiful hour of 5:15 am. so we'll be able to transition back into the real world instead of being shocked by sleeping too much each night.

but this week is recovery. being gentle to oneself. allowing the body to build strength after we whipped it thoroughly last saturday, giving us all a chance to back off after weeks of pushing forward, gung-ho.

so tomorrow morning is yoga, and quite possibly thursday morning as well. if the weather holds, I'll have another outside ride or two. I'll think about visiting the weight room, and I will only consider attending a spin class if the weather turns to rainy, gloomy yucch.

today was sweet, authentic, real.
I like that.

afterglow

there is something incomparable about the experience found post-event.
whether your event is a tough workout, a 100 mile bike ride, a marathon, a race, a hill climb, or whatever might be a stretch for you, the afterward is a beautiful place to be.

I sit here, having completed my three-hour ride, feeling worn and muscle-weary and happier than I've been all day. I've showered, I'm just about ready to eat dinner, and I know I have the rest of the evening to curl on my chaise and read a good book in front of the fire. I've earned this spot of rest, and will luxuriate in the afterglow from today's work.

I don't think it's all about endorphins. it's more than that. it's knowing I've pushed myself and survived, it's the camaraderie I've shared with those that did the very same thing today. it's the physical exhaustion and the mental pleasure that blend to create an aura of wellness. it's knowing I can fill my belly and feel good about it, I can rest my body and know it was earned, I can dig into a book and have a quiet, peaceful evening as I love to do.

there are other ways to reach this place, but they all involve pushing your body toward its limits so that you can appreciate the easing of effort. just as sorrow and grief give us greater appreciate of joy and peace, and difficult times teach us to give greater value to times of relative ease.

anyway, I am pleased and grateful to have survived today's effort, and just about ready to dig into my healthy-for-you frozen (now microwaved and warm) lasagna, my glass of wine, and my book.
and then, perhaps, a cookie or two.

or possibly, a few more than two.

winding down

power camp is down to its final three days: the official end is this coming sunday, march 14th.
tomorrow morning will be a fast, low heart rate spin.
saturday is a 3-hour ride.
sunday is a hard 1-hour class for those who can't make saturday's class.

let's back up to saturday's class. yes, it is three hours long. yes, three. on a spin bike.
here's the thing: there will be three different instructors, one for each hour.
that hardly seems fair.
they say it's so that we, the class participants, don't get bored.
hmm.

and after the weekend is over and camp officially ends, I have a week of sleeping-in. a week of "recovery" rides which may keep my heart rate low, but never seem to really feel like recovery. this has been on my mind lately: the fact that "recovery" days seem almost as hard as regular "work" days. of course this could just be due to the cumulative effect of too many early morning classes and too many short nights and too many other life stressors . . .
this is my latest observation in class: I have to work harder than I used to have to to keep my heart rate in zone 2.
zone 1 is everything less than the beginning of zone 2, which for me is 129 beats per minute.
zone 1 is a lovely place to hang out: I don't sweat, my hair looks great, my skin stays even-toned and doesn't flush, and I can chat it up with the best of them.
zone 2 didn't used to be so hard to get to and stay in: these days I have to turn up the resistance knob, focus on working a little harder than I want to, and sweat while I hang out there.
this is because I'm more fit, I'm told.

thus my question: why doesn't it ever get easier??

it just doesn't seem fair. you work hard, you increase your fitness, you sweat and grind like crazy getting there, and all that really happens is that you move to a place where you now have to work harder to increase your heart rate.

makes me want to become a couch potato for a while.
okay, not truly.

but it would be nice to sit in zone 2 without sweating, to hang out in zone 3 easily, for zone 4 to feel great, and zone 5 to just be a little stretch.

perhaps in heaven it's that way. fitness heaven, where your muscles are lean and all activities are almost effortless, where you reach the top of each peak with labored breath but happy heart, and you swoop and swoop and swoop and always, always, have the energy and desire to go climb the next mountain.

one day, when we wind down not only our power camp days, but all of our actual days, when life slows and moves gently to a place called the end, perhaps then, I will meet you all there and we can enjoy a swoop or two together.