Mile 42. A left turn. A deep breath. A last moment to take in the surroundings, and now my raising head meets nothing but up. A swift ride through crisp air has brought me to a point of troubled thought, of unknowing, of hope and hesitation for I am now at the foot of the beast.
It's Saturday a month and a week from my first race of the year. I'm somewhere near Bradley, CA, I'm 14 miles from Lake San Antonio and 1 and a half miles from the top of Nasty Grade. This is the test, this is where I get a glimpse of where my training is. 67 miles last week, 42 so far this week.
I'm still in a seated position at this point, gearing down like a truck losing it's breaks but I'm going up and I'm losing my wheels. I come out of my seat, although this wasn't the first time in this position this ride it's the first time I needed to be. My inner thought is it's too early to be in this position, but at no point do I retreat to the seat to spin, I just keep plugging away, the only thing in cadence is my breath and the sweat hitting my top tube.
Half way up.
The road's incline settles a bit but never nears flat, I take this moment to return to my seat and attempt to catch my breath. I've been up this road twice before and I'm very familiar with the fact that the wors...erh, best is yet to come. The road ahead begins to bend left and once again returns to it's full and upright position. Out of my seat again.
Now I begin to rely on my weight transfer to push the pedals down, no longer concerned with lifting them up. Sweat is beading, pooling, then rushing from my forehead. If I lift a hand to brush it away I'll lose any momentum I've stumbled upon, nonetheless control of the bike. I hear conversation behind me, two riders talking about the hill, the day and pressing on. It annoys the hell out of me. One voice approaches quicker than the other, my gaze hasn't left the pavement for 100 ft and continues this way until this voice is directly beside me, "Your doing great! Just a little bit more." In response I'm thinking more along the lines of four letter words and if I could get my foot out of this damn clip I'd kick you ....for some reason these thoughts left my mouth a bit differently, "Thanks, have a great ride". She quickly passed and I moved back to thoughts of "it's almost over," trying to hold my bottle of water in position of reward, telling myself that as soon as I reach the top I'm going to stop and recover for a second and get some fluids in.
At this point I see the crest of the hill and the green traffic sign just beyond. The top is within shouting for help distance. My stomach seems to be taking a great deal of pride in reminding me that I did not put enough in it, my legs are quickly losing the joy they had merely a mile earlier. At this point I'm angry and just want to be done with this, I glance up through dripping sweat and frustration taking a peak at that glorious point where road meets sky, my head lowers once again and I force my legs through the motion. Peddling slowly becomes easier, my heart rate returns to a state other than trying to escape through my ears. If I could grin in frustration I was doing it, but I was happy, I was done with this damn hill.... my soul kicked, beaten, bruised, but not crushed. I was greeted by a right turn and another hill but nothing compared to what was behind me and I don't mind at all and I know what's next. DOWN!
I went from 42 miles of, "this is beautiful, as soon as I get up nasty grade I'm going to push it a bit." About 12 miles to finish line and a great point to see where I'm at and close a great training ride with charge to the line. those thoughts were sheepishly put to the side and now I just wanted to get there.
I did get there and realized that I am not where I thought I was. It was a great ride, a tough climb, but a reality check to say the least. I'm a bit frustrated, but more happy that I have a feeling of where I am and where I need to be.
Sunday closed two weeks of great training with some firsts to boot. This week is easy, a chance to regroup a bit, learn and move on.
Aside from this particular increase in elevation the weekend was awesome. Campfires, hikes, great company, a dog who smells like a mix of lake and burning wood and road trip that, as The Tallest Man on Earth plays in the background, I feel like I'm still on. (thanks for passing that along Whit)
-d
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While it still made me want to vomit -- both at the thought of how bad this climb must have hurt and because you're doing a FREAKIN' IRONMAN -- the editor in me wanted you to know that this was pretty well written, D. The best part of the workouts: no sharks.
ReplyDeleteRemember when our dogs joined voices in a cacophonous symphony of howls and half-howls? Just hear that every time you are frustrated.
ReplyDeletePS youre welcome.
PPS: Why are you indignant that "she" passed you so easily? (Insert feminist yammering here) Anyway, she probably only had to push 110 pounds up the Nasty.