Vision Quest Coaching
Friday -- The Hammer Goes Down
The usual. 6am wake up and off for a swim. Another 3300 in the books. Swimming actually feels good and Matt and I did 100s on varying intervals. I'm finally getting this flip turn thing down but the water, again, is thicker than the water in Illinois and I don't set any speed records.
Breakfast. Lots of it. The schedule calls for an "easy" 100 mile ride. Easy means a more or less steady pace without accelerations and hammering. That's what's written on the schedule. I know that it isn't going to work out that way. There's a sprint at the 20 mile mark and I'm pretty sure we'll start to really roll after the sprint.
Lots of Easy on the way out of town and we're all staying together nicely. Mark and Gordo are going to drop the hammer at some point, and this causes a small amount of worry in the group--I just want to hang on.
My legs feel dead the first 30 minutes, but I'm pretty sure they're going to come around and they do after the first climb. We pick up the pace to the sprint, and silly me, I go to the front 3 times thinking its not fast enough and unluckily I'm on the front when we hit 2K to go and all the wheels go by. No sprint for Dan.
We regroup and go over another climb and I'm over in the front half of the group. Then it's the beginning of the end. Mark hammers on the way down. Gordo is happy to oblige. I'm 50 meters back, then 75, then 100m and Rod Reilly comes around on the descent. That's just the wheel I need (he's 6'2, 240) and I hold on as we scream down the hill. We take turns pulling, and I can smell the group ahead I'm so close. Rod bridges with a little sprint but I don't have it and pop. I catch on to the group behind having recovered a little and take my turns pulling until we regroup. We're lost.
The question is asked: "Who wants to climb and who wants to head home and add on?" I know that the road diverges here. Comfort and security heading home, and 40 miles of hurt going the other way. I choose hurt.
We paceline for a while and we get to another climb. I know that if I let go of the wheel in front of me going up that I'm going to have a long ride home alone. Gardie goes to the front and he's got me pinned against my limit as we ascend a beautiful set of switchbacks. We all go over together, regroup for a while and get some food.
Some girls see us on the side of the road and want a picture. Is it weird? Yes.
We head out and get our legs going a again. Mark hits the front and its time for fireworks. Gardie doesn't want me to drop or let go and I'm holding on to his wheel for dear life. Mark and Gordo are in their aerobars and everyone else is 165lbs or less. I try and find any safe air that I can. I'm spitting and drooling. I'm calling this level of effort "Mucus" and Mark is still killin' us up front.
We're 6 or 7 miles from home and I pop. But a stoplight is up in the distance and they'll all have to stop. I know that if I crush it I can catch back on or I can pedal on my own back into to town. If I crush it to get back on, it will be more of the same.
I catch Mark and go straight up to Gordo and take a pull. We're all back together and I'm second wheel. I wonder how much Mark has left and I give a grunt. Turns out he's got some whoop ass left in his can and only later will Gordo give me a little snide comment about my prodding. ("When you're behind Mark, don't grunt.")
We get to a tiny hill before the hotel and I go sideways. I'm inside out. We stop for some good and Mark and JD and I head out for a few more miles easy.
I swear that I'm not going to run, but I feel OK after some food. 45 minutes.
A big dinner and a pillow is all I can think about.
Breakfast. Lots of it. The schedule calls for an "easy" 100 mile ride. Easy means a more or less steady pace without accelerations and hammering. That's what's written on the schedule. I know that it isn't going to work out that way. There's a sprint at the 20 mile mark and I'm pretty sure we'll start to really roll after the sprint.
Lots of Easy on the way out of town and we're all staying together nicely. Mark and Gordo are going to drop the hammer at some point, and this causes a small amount of worry in the group--I just want to hang on.
My legs feel dead the first 30 minutes, but I'm pretty sure they're going to come around and they do after the first climb. We pick up the pace to the sprint, and silly me, I go to the front 3 times thinking its not fast enough and unluckily I'm on the front when we hit 2K to go and all the wheels go by. No sprint for Dan.
We regroup and go over another climb and I'm over in the front half of the group. Then it's the beginning of the end. Mark hammers on the way down. Gordo is happy to oblige. I'm 50 meters back, then 75, then 100m and Rod Reilly comes around on the descent. That's just the wheel I need (he's 6'2, 240) and I hold on as we scream down the hill. We take turns pulling, and I can smell the group ahead I'm so close. Rod bridges with a little sprint but I don't have it and pop. I catch on to the group behind having recovered a little and take my turns pulling until we regroup. We're lost.
The question is asked: "Who wants to climb and who wants to head home and add on?" I know that the road diverges here. Comfort and security heading home, and 40 miles of hurt going the other way. I choose hurt.
We paceline for a while and we get to another climb. I know that if I let go of the wheel in front of me going up that I'm going to have a long ride home alone. Gardie goes to the front and he's got me pinned against my limit as we ascend a beautiful set of switchbacks. We all go over together, regroup for a while and get some food.
Some girls see us on the side of the road and want a picture. Is it weird? Yes.
We head out and get our legs going a again. Mark hits the front and its time for fireworks. Gardie doesn't want me to drop or let go and I'm holding on to his wheel for dear life. Mark and Gordo are in their aerobars and everyone else is 165lbs or less. I try and find any safe air that I can. I'm spitting and drooling. I'm calling this level of effort "Mucus" and Mark is still killin' us up front.
We're 6 or 7 miles from home and I pop. But a stoplight is up in the distance and they'll all have to stop. I know that if I crush it I can catch back on or I can pedal on my own back into to town. If I crush it to get back on, it will be more of the same.
I catch Mark and go straight up to Gordo and take a pull. We're all back together and I'm second wheel. I wonder how much Mark has left and I give a grunt. Turns out he's got some whoop ass left in his can and only later will Gordo give me a little snide comment about my prodding. ("When you're behind Mark, don't grunt.")
We get to a tiny hill before the hotel and I go sideways. I'm inside out. We stop for some good and Mark and JD and I head out for a few more miles easy.
I swear that I'm not going to run, but I feel OK after some food. 45 minutes.
A big dinner and a pillow is all I can think about.
Comment
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Comment by Mark Pietrofesa on March 6, 2008 at 10:30pm -
Your ready for Epic Camp now Big Dog...just wanted you to have a taste. Good riding with you. Cheers.
Mark
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