Training - Florida Training Camp Day 5

I woke up refreshed with a touch of fatigue lingering in the corners of my mind. No soreness, no saddle issues, nothing.

There's something good about having nothing wrong.

I decided that today the bike would get its drivetrain cleaning. I performed this task in overboots, using an ancient spray head that was either full on or full off. I kept an eye out for the resident armadillo but I guess he figured he didn't want to be near this green and black thing in jeans with sparkly spokes and clicking arms spraying water everywhere.

Afterwards the drivetrain looked refreshingly clean. Doing this regularly makes each cleaning very rewarding, and I haven't ridden too much outside since I last cleaned the bike. Therefore I reaped the rewards and found no super-ground-in grunge and dirt and stuff.

Then I did the things that one does for Pap, a really cool grandfather-in-law. I played IT tech on his computer (and flew the Flight Simulator since he really wanted me to fly it), then hers (after his astonishment at the performance increase on his own machine), fixed a broken sofa bed (collapsed, glue, screws, drills, two trips to the hardware store), went shopping for some cold medicine for Nana, vacuumed a bit of the Great Room, and one or two other things.

After a brief rest (I fell asleep on the couch), I motivated and got out on the bike. Despite the temperatures in the mid 50s, I wanted to experiment with my kit and set off in just shorts on my legs.

I also wore two LS jerseys, one SS jersey, a wind vest, booties, a reasonably warm head cover, and summer long-finger gloves. I wanted to try to keep my extremities warm, and I wanted to see what would happen with my bare legs.

I rolled along an interesting backroad named, interestingly enough, Trouble Creek Road. It turns left and right, 90 degrees at a time, all over the place. The turns were quite sharp, keeping me on my toes.

Against some old advice from my friend Gene, I've been trying to stick to my diet while training some volume. I paid the price as I felt like I was bonking just 30 minutes into the ride. I started feeling weak, a little dizzy, and a bit chilly. My legs felt like I'd just ridden 3 hours, loading up as soon as I made any kind of 100+ watt effort.

I pedaled along in the small ring, waiting for my body to figure out what it wanted to do. I hoped it wasn't going to escalate to a full-on bonk. My "less is more" kit selection would work against me with the cool temperatures and an under-fueled body.

Finally, magically, my body responded, warming up, and my legs started feeling a bit better.

I tried to get my legs going again, doing a little effort, but I struggled to maintain even 330 watts. My legs felt pretty dead. I eased, absorbing all this information that seemed so familiar yet so foreign. It all seemed familiar, but far enough away that I only felt deja vu, not "Oh, yeah, I know this sensation."

Then a van drove by, going just over the 30 mph speed limit. Not just a regular van, a conversion van, with all the fairings and such, letting not a molecule of air past the bottom of the van.

Perfect motorpace vehicle.

I couldn't resist and launched an almost aborted sprint. A mis-shift under pressure almost made me stop, but some fiddling and I launched myself again.

I chased the van for a short straight, powered through a turn, did my best Philipe Gilbert imitation out of it, and...

My legs faded.

Upon review I saw I did about 1000 watts for 10 seconds, peaking a little higher at 1200 watts. I maintained just under 900 watts for 20 seconds, fading to 680 watts for 30 seconds.

I only hit 36 mph, quite disappointing, but I rationalized with myself that it was a headwind, I felt bonky, my legs empty, and I just wasn't good today. Plus my mis-shift cost me a few seconds.

Whatever, it wasn't great.

To avenge my poor performance I sprinted past an ice cream truck just before I got home.

(Ice cream truck?! In December?! Must be Florida.)

I started to peel off my outer layers, like my helmet, gloves, and such, when Aunt Linda came running out.

"We want to take pictures of you on your bike!"

Oh, wait. That didn't happen. What really happened was the following:

"You really should do some sprint intervals on the street. You can do with them Haley."

Haley, just so you know, is a seven year old girl.

With a scooter thing.

We proceeded to do enough sprints that the ice cream truck drove by twice (we never bought any). Haley's brother Elijah ran along for fun on a few sprints.

(Apologies in advance for the blurry pictures, but note the very cool looking kit!)

Note Haley's pre-scooter throw posture. And don't let the gleaming drivetrain blind you!

Three wide with Elijah in the middle. Note excellent form displayed by each of the three sprinters.

Haley scooting furiously. I jumped too late.

Alas, I couldn't win a single sprint.

I'll let the fire of disappointment fuel me through the rest of the training camp. Or something like that.

Up on deck for tomorrow? A long ride starting early afternoon.