BIKE: 83 miles in 4:38-ish at the IML course
Camp Louisville, bike course preview day. Yeah, I'm not doing the race but after this preview I might!!
The ride started early at 7am with previews of the swim in/out areas. We had an awesome group, some new and some old: fellow taters PS and TB, fellow IBers TE, JP, and BG, fellow SLTCer RE, and a Ohio guy racing this year LR. IMK will be his 33rd IM!!
I'd seen the IML swim and run in 2010 but not the bike. I had only a vague idea of the course but no details. How long was the stick? How long was the loop? Hills? Towns? I had looked at a course map and profile. I saw one out'n'back and lots of hills. Yippee!
At first I felt awful, but that's not new lately. Last few rides I'd feel awful but would improve as the ride went by. Same thing here. Weakish. Tired. Not a lot of will to ride. But knowing it gets better kept me going.
The ride started flat and along the river. This should have been easy. I kept envisioning what athletes would feel riding here: the swim is done, shade, flat road, soft curves in the road, the start of 112 miles. I'd had it in my mind that this would be a 60 mile ride, and this first few miles had me thinking it would be not easy but a refreshing ride. CP promised a few weeks ago while I was deciding whether or not to do this that this ride wouldn't be a high effort leg-burner. After all, Piggie is only a week afterwards!
Was I wrong? I'll get back to that in a few. First an overall summary: lotsa hills, lots of turns, horses, farms, open road, good traffic. The hills rolled in fast. Short, long, all types of hills but nothing needing a granny gear. That fact distinguished this course from IMWI, which had slow grinders that brought my speed to a crawl. Nope these just needed a patient turn of the cranks. And for the first 50 miles, that's what I did. But sometimes this patient turn wasn't enough to keep up. I'd lag behind the group and feel that old familiar fear creeping up: The Slow Zebra. Oh man, not that again.
The Slow Zebra: the fear that I was the drag on the group. The rise of the heart rate that didn't serve to speed me up, but instead only helped to draw out more adrenaline. That adrenaline dropped a hammer on me but not the hammer I needed to go faster. I just got worked up, focused more on the growing distance between me and the group ahead. I'd felt this on other group rides, but most recently I felt it at my recent CE race in June. Oh yea, we're feeling that again.
I saw what was happening, and I tried to rein it in. It's a mental thing--it's all in my head really. Calm down, I think. Just keep it turning. The group was moving fast, or so I thought. And now back to my previous thought above about whether or not I was wrong about the pace and effort. Prior to this ride, in the comfort of my kick-back clothing and off the bike, I was thinking to myself that "man I want to get fast, I'm going to do all fast rides, ride with people faster than me, really work myself up and go fast". But in the saddle the mindset changes. And that's where I'm going to focus for now, I have a feeling there's a learning experience in here somewhere.
I was working hard on this ride. But I wasn't in Z4/5. High Z3 maybe. It seemed like race pace. HIM pace or maybe even olympic pace. In my head I'm complaining about it, why are we going so fast? Who is setting this hard pace? I wanted to say something to CP about the pace, but at the same time I didn't want to be the complainer. The whiner. The Slow Zebra.
I kept my complaints to myself. I did the math and realized we were averaging 17-18 mph. That's it. Ok, there's lots of hills to slow us down, right? Excuses! We stopped at a gas station before La Grange and decided while resting that I would keep quiet. The line of thinking I'd had was contradictory: I wanted to go faster in races, but I was going to complain about a fast pace?? What?? Really? HTFU!!! I'll come back to this again later.
Into La Grange for another pause. I was starting to fade. Not talking much. Losing excitement. I know this feeling--I need to eat. I re-evaluate my nutrition and I measure it against the miles remaining. And thus born another mental fight: did I have enough nutrition? How many miles were left? How much longer? Hoo boy, here we go again. Instead of focusing on a great ride, wonderful weather and company, instead I focused on the question of How Much Longer?
Into the next town at which I learned how much more: 35 miles. We were already at 50!! Into an interesting c-store (they sold 2ndhand dinner sets along side goat soap and c-store snacks) to buy more water to mix the backup packet of Infinit and some honey roasted cashews.
And thusly the ride turned around. This was a long break, but I don't think the long break turned it for me. It had to be the nutrition. I thought I'd eaten too much for breakfast, so then did I scrimp early in the ride thinking I was OK in terms of fueling? Something to look into.
Back to my Slow Zebra story. Feeling good for maybe the first time during this ride, I took off. For once I wasn't drafting but pulling. Sadly I picked the section with the nice headwind. I held onto it and felt fast. Was I going fast? Haha, probably not. But I was out in front for awhile and I enjoyed it. Even when I got passed I enjoyed it. I just loved the thrill.
During this ride, thinking this over, turning it around, I came to accept that I am competitive. I keep saying that I'm not. Or that I just compete with myself. But no, I am competitive. I don't want to be slow. I don't want to be last. I don't want to fall behind or drag the group.
We closed the ride back on the flat river road. A fellow ride was flagging a bit and I hung back with him to be sure he was OK. He was, but I didn't mind slowing down. This was my longest ride so far this year, and I didn't see a need to keep pushing. Nor did I see a need to join the group on a ride preview of the run course.
The Filly on the IML course. She did wonderful past all those horse farms. And I just have to save this story. I love the RotK movie, especially the Ride of the Rohirrim. There's a particular couple of seconds in which a rider is charging at full sprint towards battle. Barely moving on the saddle, one with the horse, reins high, yet full speed and screaming.
After years on this bike, thousands of miles, hours and hours or riding, I finally found that feeling. I was charging into battle, arms outstretched in the aerobars, lungs heaving. Oh, gawd, I love this.
The Filly and I loved Louisville. We just might be back to race.
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