Training Log Archive: FoxShadowIn the 7 days ending Feb 1, 2014:
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Thursday Jan 30, 2014 #
Strength Training 45:00 [1]
Some light lifting and stretching at the gym, just to get out of the house.
Tuesday Jan 28, 2014 #
Mountain Biking 21:14:00 [3] 135.0 mi (6.4 mph)
The Arrowhead 135. How to summarize this day, it's best done over a beer maybe, but her's a chrono-stream-o-con.
The race started off as the best adventures do, with lots of mystery and anticipation. Anticiption is the best isn't it? When we are young, we enjoy so easily. So many things are new. This race was like that, everyone telling you how hard it is, how crazy it is, how the course is like this or like that, how fast the fast guys are, but I had no experience, I was taking it all in as it came.
Dave and I vowed to ride together. We went out slowly, looking for Dittmer. We dropped back and back, but he never came through. We found out later his freehub had frozen, a common issue in this event.
We started riding at a more firm pace. Hard enough to stay warm, but slow by most accounts. A "24 hour" pace, it felt like. No sweating much. Dave was dressed perhaps a bit warmer, or maybe his bike was slower, but riding felt easy to me early on. We moved up from 25th.
Three hours in, I asked Dave what place we were in, he said: maybe 20th? I said no way man, I've been counting tracks, no more than 10 up ahead.
Then we rode up on Todd McFadden, last year's champ and course record holder. He told me, during friendly chat, that we were running 6th. Yep, that made sense to me.
Dave and I were feeling good but hoping to get to Gateway (quarter way) quickly, his bladder hose had frozen immediately and he was drinking off of my hose during brief stops. I ran out of water and we considered dumping his bladder into our bottles. I said, "let's ride for 20 minutes and hope we get to gateway." After about 30, we arrived. Thirsty but not in trouble. I purchased 6 32oz gatorades. I threw them in the microwave. I bought granola bars. Dave thawed his bladder in the sink and re-routed it like mine, through my arm. 11 minutes later, we were back on our bikes, and had moved up a spot in TA. The website shows my split wrong. Not their fault though, I checked out before I left. An AR habit.
Over the next 4 hours, I felt like we were pedaling really slowly. But then we caught the 3rd place rider. Whoa. Dave and I were rolling well. Jay was putting time into us a bit, but otherwise we were doing well apparently, despite the effort feeling easy. Dave suggested I ride ahead. No way, I said, and this exchange continued for a few hours, once an hour or so for a while. Eventually he backed off. I knew we were close to MelGeorge, and that he was riding smart. He knew I had the fitness to go a lot faster. I was on a good day.
I rolled into MelGeorges (halfway) with a 20 minute lead over Eric, and maybe 25 or 30 on Dave and Alec. I was feeling awesome.
It was great to see Molly, Erl and Julia and Mike at Mel. They were psyched to see me, and I was inspired to keep going.
Dittmer rolled in as I was rolling out. (My TA was slow at 37 minutes, but I left feeling awesome, and full. We don't TA like that in AR, what a nice luxury.) I wanted to ride with Dan, but he had pushed hard to get back the 40 minutes he lost fixing his freehub. I was happy to know that if he was strong or I weak, I would see him again.
I rolled out of MelGeorges and into the hills. The sun went down. I was eating, drinking, and using the Oujai breath to bring the hammer down on my pedals through the cold crunchy snow. I felt invincible. I had ridden 85 miles and 12 hours, my legs still felt strong. It's true what Bullard says, skinny is fast. Then I saw Stephen Yore. We chatted for a short bit. I shook his hand. I then rode on. I was in 2nd place.
Ski Pulk (110 mile mark) took FOREVER to come. I arrived with an empty bladder, but was only a little dehydrated. I had drank plenty at Mel, and consumed 90 ounces over the prior 45 miles and 6 hours. Then, the tripping point:
I asked for a full bladder. I specifially said: "I want 70 ounces." I know that I also said "I am dehydrated." I was given a full bottle, and 35 ounces in my bladder. I was told that Jay was just 10 minutes ahead. I knew that meant I had made up an hour on him in the past 45 miles. I lost my cool, and made the fateful mistake of not insisting that I get the full bladder that I requested. I was so excited.
I put the bladder on my back, it began to burn my skin. They dumped in the water right off of the propane burner, the same water they made my hot chocolate with. I tried to place my fleece between my bladder and my skin. I worried I would be burned. I rode with one hand, holding the bladder away from my skin with my hand.
I did not want to stop to add snow, I wanted to catch Jay. I hammered. I sweat. I did not stop to put snow into my bladder like I should have, resulting in a more full bladder and a more comfortable core temp. I was drunk on adrenaline. I was in 2nd place and gaining on the greatest endurance cyclist in North America. But my water began to get low. I had no idea how far I had traveled (nor did I at any point on the course.) After about 2 hours of riding hard, I slowed down, and began rationing my water. Realizing I would not be able to keep the heat on all the way to the line. I needed to be smart, and I perhaps was not going to see Jay I admitted to myself.
I swear it was almost just then, maybe 15 mintues of "slower pace", and I saw Jay ahead. I had done it, there he was. Holy shit. Visions of myself as the champ ran through my head. I decided not to accelerate, but rather to keep up the slowish pace, because I didn't have much water or strength left, and didn't want the lead. I have never lost a sprint to a line. So I would attack then. But I only got weaker, and thoughts of strategy for winning began to fade. I looked behind me. Where is Dittmer with a spare 10 ounces, where is a snowmobile, some easy way to get water? Answer? Nowhere. I was in the middle of nowhere.
The trail stretched on. And on. I felt weaker. The hours (minutes?) passed, holy shit was I going slow! I was either walking, or pedaling at an embarrasingly slow rate, and not in the straight line. Then it hit me. I was no longer the rider whose efforts felt easy, were the fastest on course. I was going nowhere, and was in trouble soon. Ok. Water. I need water now.
By now, you all have likely read Stephen's article. Media is a business, it comes with some drawbacks. I'm happy to have his support and he's an adventurer that I respect and admire. I gave him permission to write everything I told him about, I don't take myself too seriously. Yeah, I drank my pee, seems strange sitting here at home. But it's faster than boiling water. It was half snow, the most possible without being totally solid, and it was awesome frankly. I totally could have boiled water, I had that stuff in my bag, I tested it on my back porch. Does that involve getting metal parts out of my bag with my mittens off, as the wind blows strong, and the air temp is -30, and my heart rate slows down as I add more and more fluffy dry snow and wait? Yep. You make it happen.
Then after that I called for help. And I walked. I felt like shit. For the first time all day long, my hands and feet felt cold. My body slowed. Scary.
Within maybe 30 minutes Erl and a race official were there to meet me at an intersection. Erl was so helpful and selfless and incredible. I can't thank him enough for being there for me. (He also saved Dave Swanson later that night during his heroic night of sleeplessness). The race official watched Erl like a hawk for penalty type behavior, explaining I could have water but there would be a penalty. I was not told what the penalty would be. I just said "are you serious?" and he said. "It's less than 2 more miles to the finish."
I was totally pissed off. (at the guy who didn't fill my bladder when asked, and myself even more, for letting it happen). I refused a penalty or drop in place. I actually was feeling a lot better. I got on my bike and rode an uphill two miles to the finish. A rush of adrenaline had me feeling great at the line, and I stood around for a bit taking a finish line picture, over a few times as the dude could not get the flash to work. I was happy generally.
Then I got inside, chatted with Jay, the deserved champ. then I took my sock off, and I freaked out. Stopped talking to Jay, stopped smiling. Got in the bath, stayed there for about two hours, bringing my core temp up, reading about frostbite, fading in and out of consciousness.
Since then I have been coming down from the high. The attention has been supportive, and fun! A few haters out there from the GJ article, and frankly I agree that the Media lends an unfortunate tilt to things. But hey, discussion is ok, let's grab a beer. Thanks for all of your support everyone, you are all my wonderful little piece of the world and I am happy to be in it with you.
The race started off as the best adventures do, with lots of mystery and anticipation. Anticiption is the best isn't it? When we are young, we enjoy so easily. So many things are new. This race was like that, everyone telling you how hard it is, how crazy it is, how the course is like this or like that, how fast the fast guys are, but I had no experience, I was taking it all in as it came.
Dave and I vowed to ride together. We went out slowly, looking for Dittmer. We dropped back and back, but he never came through. We found out later his freehub had frozen, a common issue in this event.
We started riding at a more firm pace. Hard enough to stay warm, but slow by most accounts. A "24 hour" pace, it felt like. No sweating much. Dave was dressed perhaps a bit warmer, or maybe his bike was slower, but riding felt easy to me early on. We moved up from 25th.
Three hours in, I asked Dave what place we were in, he said: maybe 20th? I said no way man, I've been counting tracks, no more than 10 up ahead.
Then we rode up on Todd McFadden, last year's champ and course record holder. He told me, during friendly chat, that we were running 6th. Yep, that made sense to me.
Dave and I were feeling good but hoping to get to Gateway (quarter way) quickly, his bladder hose had frozen immediately and he was drinking off of my hose during brief stops. I ran out of water and we considered dumping his bladder into our bottles. I said, "let's ride for 20 minutes and hope we get to gateway." After about 30, we arrived. Thirsty but not in trouble. I purchased 6 32oz gatorades. I threw them in the microwave. I bought granola bars. Dave thawed his bladder in the sink and re-routed it like mine, through my arm. 11 minutes later, we were back on our bikes, and had moved up a spot in TA. The website shows my split wrong. Not their fault though, I checked out before I left. An AR habit.
Over the next 4 hours, I felt like we were pedaling really slowly. But then we caught the 3rd place rider. Whoa. Dave and I were rolling well. Jay was putting time into us a bit, but otherwise we were doing well apparently, despite the effort feeling easy. Dave suggested I ride ahead. No way, I said, and this exchange continued for a few hours, once an hour or so for a while. Eventually he backed off. I knew we were close to MelGeorge, and that he was riding smart. He knew I had the fitness to go a lot faster. I was on a good day.
I rolled into MelGeorges (halfway) with a 20 minute lead over Eric, and maybe 25 or 30 on Dave and Alec. I was feeling awesome.
It was great to see Molly, Erl and Julia and Mike at Mel. They were psyched to see me, and I was inspired to keep going.
Dittmer rolled in as I was rolling out. (My TA was slow at 37 minutes, but I left feeling awesome, and full. We don't TA like that in AR, what a nice luxury.) I wanted to ride with Dan, but he had pushed hard to get back the 40 minutes he lost fixing his freehub. I was happy to know that if he was strong or I weak, I would see him again.
I rolled out of MelGeorges and into the hills. The sun went down. I was eating, drinking, and using the Oujai breath to bring the hammer down on my pedals through the cold crunchy snow. I felt invincible. I had ridden 85 miles and 12 hours, my legs still felt strong. It's true what Bullard says, skinny is fast. Then I saw Stephen Yore. We chatted for a short bit. I shook his hand. I then rode on. I was in 2nd place.
Ski Pulk (110 mile mark) took FOREVER to come. I arrived with an empty bladder, but was only a little dehydrated. I had drank plenty at Mel, and consumed 90 ounces over the prior 45 miles and 6 hours. Then, the tripping point:
I asked for a full bladder. I specifially said: "I want 70 ounces." I know that I also said "I am dehydrated." I was given a full bottle, and 35 ounces in my bladder. I was told that Jay was just 10 minutes ahead. I knew that meant I had made up an hour on him in the past 45 miles. I lost my cool, and made the fateful mistake of not insisting that I get the full bladder that I requested. I was so excited.
I put the bladder on my back, it began to burn my skin. They dumped in the water right off of the propane burner, the same water they made my hot chocolate with. I tried to place my fleece between my bladder and my skin. I worried I would be burned. I rode with one hand, holding the bladder away from my skin with my hand.
I did not want to stop to add snow, I wanted to catch Jay. I hammered. I sweat. I did not stop to put snow into my bladder like I should have, resulting in a more full bladder and a more comfortable core temp. I was drunk on adrenaline. I was in 2nd place and gaining on the greatest endurance cyclist in North America. But my water began to get low. I had no idea how far I had traveled (nor did I at any point on the course.) After about 2 hours of riding hard, I slowed down, and began rationing my water. Realizing I would not be able to keep the heat on all the way to the line. I needed to be smart, and I perhaps was not going to see Jay I admitted to myself.
I swear it was almost just then, maybe 15 mintues of "slower pace", and I saw Jay ahead. I had done it, there he was. Holy shit. Visions of myself as the champ ran through my head. I decided not to accelerate, but rather to keep up the slowish pace, because I didn't have much water or strength left, and didn't want the lead. I have never lost a sprint to a line. So I would attack then. But I only got weaker, and thoughts of strategy for winning began to fade. I looked behind me. Where is Dittmer with a spare 10 ounces, where is a snowmobile, some easy way to get water? Answer? Nowhere. I was in the middle of nowhere.
The trail stretched on. And on. I felt weaker. The hours (minutes?) passed, holy shit was I going slow! I was either walking, or pedaling at an embarrasingly slow rate, and not in the straight line. Then it hit me. I was no longer the rider whose efforts felt easy, were the fastest on course. I was going nowhere, and was in trouble soon. Ok. Water. I need water now.
By now, you all have likely read Stephen's article. Media is a business, it comes with some drawbacks. I'm happy to have his support and he's an adventurer that I respect and admire. I gave him permission to write everything I told him about, I don't take myself too seriously. Yeah, I drank my pee, seems strange sitting here at home. But it's faster than boiling water. It was half snow, the most possible without being totally solid, and it was awesome frankly. I totally could have boiled water, I had that stuff in my bag, I tested it on my back porch. Does that involve getting metal parts out of my bag with my mittens off, as the wind blows strong, and the air temp is -30, and my heart rate slows down as I add more and more fluffy dry snow and wait? Yep. You make it happen.
Then after that I called for help. And I walked. I felt like shit. For the first time all day long, my hands and feet felt cold. My body slowed. Scary.
Within maybe 30 minutes Erl and a race official were there to meet me at an intersection. Erl was so helpful and selfless and incredible. I can't thank him enough for being there for me. (He also saved Dave Swanson later that night during his heroic night of sleeplessness). The race official watched Erl like a hawk for penalty type behavior, explaining I could have water but there would be a penalty. I was not told what the penalty would be. I just said "are you serious?" and he said. "It's less than 2 more miles to the finish."
I was totally pissed off. (at the guy who didn't fill my bladder when asked, and myself even more, for letting it happen). I refused a penalty or drop in place. I actually was feeling a lot better. I got on my bike and rode an uphill two miles to the finish. A rush of adrenaline had me feeling great at the line, and I stood around for a bit taking a finish line picture, over a few times as the dude could not get the flash to work. I was happy generally.
Then I got inside, chatted with Jay, the deserved champ. then I took my sock off, and I freaked out. Stopped talking to Jay, stopped smiling. Got in the bath, stayed there for about two hours, bringing my core temp up, reading about frostbite, fading in and out of consciousness.
Since then I have been coming down from the high. The attention has been supportive, and fun! A few haters out there from the GJ article, and frankly I agree that the Media lends an unfortunate tilt to things. But hey, discussion is ok, let's grab a beer. Thanks for all of your support everyone, you are all my wonderful little piece of the world and I am happy to be in it with you.
Sunday Jan 26, 2014 #
Mountain Biking 50:00 [3] 6.0 mi (7.2 mph)
Gear test ride up in I falls