New, like Old02:23 Nov 09 2008
Times Read: 741
At the end of each ride there are numbers. Though dry and cold, they're an image of the ride just past; as familiar and meaningful as the freckles, scars and feel of a lover's body.
Each has its place and in each, lies an indication of health or ailing. The numbers today are comfortable, if not at all spectacular. They'll do.
Today started late as consciousness is often an uncomfortable state. I finally came to face the day well into the afternoon. I slipped into my new $95 shorts, wondering what they might offer that I don't find in those costing $70. My heart rate monitor receiver buckled to my wrist, a jersey selected from the stack of those I wear -- a much smaller stack than those I almost never wear. I grabbed a pair of riding socks (black), with those short little tops that baffle me. I hate it when my regular socks slip down. Why don't I hate the feel of my Coolmax cycling socks?
Time to lube the chain, move the little crab spider which has accompanied me on my last two rides to my spare bike, air the tires, slip on gloves, a pair of cycling shoes, grab my helmet and drop my hydration pack onto my shoulders. Once out the door I realize I've forgotten to slip on the transmitter belt for my heart rate monitor so it's back home to grab the forgotten gear.
Finally, it's time to zero the Flight Deck, zero the HRM and clip into the pedals. I enter the highway in the middle of a construction zone. The normal two northbound lanes have been narrowed to one, just barely wide enough for a car. I slip into traffic but there is no time or room for a warm-up. I have to instantly try to match the speed of the cars until we clear the construction zone rather than costing people travel time.
The air was fairly calm today; nothing I could call a "wind" and nothing really qualifying as a "breeze". There were, of course, the movements in the air, perhaps best referred to as "air currents". They helped me along through the first mile and saved me 11-seconds. At 3-miles I was 18-seconds ahead of the norm. But just across the bridge that marks the 3-mile point, there is a stoplight, then a hill. It's not a steep-looking hill nor is it long in appearance. But it rolls so slowly across the top that a full half of it's length is disguised as the top. It can rip the legs off of an unsuspecting cyclist and today the air currents are taking turns sliding down the hill into the oncoming face of the breathless cyclist attempting to maintain a cadence and retain the look of being relaxed, while leaving the heart and lungs ticking like a time-bomb. A half mile up the road, the currents which were moving from the front right have now switched to the front left but are still working to add resistance.
The second checkpoint is approaching on time but there is a slight disappointment that my speed isn't a bit better. There is a long decent coming up and then the climb begins. A small bridge signals the start of the climb which slowly snakes up through a shallow valley. I can often get a feel for how the climb will go by the time it takes to cross the tiny bridge. On an average day, I exit the bridge at 12.3-seconds. Today I stood and cranked out a little extra momentum and watched 11.9 flash by as the front tire clipped across the expansion joint linking the concrete of the bridge to the asphalt of the road. A mile and three-quarters later I'm feeling that familiar panicked ache in my chest and watching the marker tease as it slips closer at half the rate it seems I'm moving. Seven, twenty-two and two-tenths -- acceptable.
Another 2-miles of deceptive roadway and I can finally turn and head back. I was relieved to find that the air currents coming back were even more friendly than those going out. Nearing the bottom of the steepest section as I'm crouched over, hands in the drops and knees just missing my chest on each stroke, I glance to the Flight Deck to note 37-mph and change. I'm already tired and I can feel the lactic acid building in my quads and along the lateral Gastrocnemius muscle in the calf. But I'm intrigued by the lack of opposing winds so I wind it up a little tighter and manage 40.2 mph.
The rest of the way back I had mostly what I long for in a ride -- a wind that isn't fighting me. The movement of the air is always the biggest challenge and to allow me to create my own drag rather than fighting the drag created by moving air is a huge plus. I lost several seconds to a long traffic light just before cutting left to finish out the final 2 ½ miles on Hwy 260 but I also pushed myself to the limit in the final 2-minutes and ended with a respectable 20.22 mph overall average. The new shorts? Well, I'm just as happy with my less expensive ones but they'll do. And since I bought them on sale, they cost the same as the less expensive one's.
SETUP:
Bike: GT ZR-1.0
Departure: 16:01:39
HRM Duration: 1:17:11.9
THE DATA:
Distance: 25.60 miles
Average Speed: 20.22 mph
Duration: 01:15:57
Maximum Speed: 40.2 mph
Odometer: 19282.2 miles
Climb Timer: 07:22.2
Climb Distance: 1.76
Climb Avg Speed: 14.3
Climb Max Speed: 21.4
HEART RATES:
In Zone: 59:43, 162
Above Zone: 03:40, 176
Below Zone: 13:48, 142
Heart Rate Recovery: 01:17
Low: 108
High: 177
Avg: 159
CHECKPOINTS:
Bridgeport Bridge: 07:42
Oak Creek Valley Road: 24:24
Page Springs Road: 30:52
Pass above Page Springs Road: 34:58
Turn above Dry Creek Bridge: 42:12
Bridgeport Bridge (coming back): 1:05:32
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