CX: It All Ends Tonight…For Realzies

She’s tolerating it.  For ten, twelve, weeks I’ve rode up alongside her, put a hand on her back and said, “See ya at home Honey.”  Then I drop it into the small ring, put the left bud in my ear and noodle the 45 minutes back home.  With OVCX races on Sunday, I always cut the Saturday ride short.  She’d smile and maybe say something sassy like, “smell ya later.”  I can’t imagine what cyclocross is like for those who race and have spouses that don’t ride.  You gotta have a real angel in your life.

The end is near.  Thank you Oprah.  Thank you Tom Cruise.  Thank you little baby Jesus, she’s saying in her best Ricky Bobby impersonation.  I thank her.  Since August I HAD to buy two new tires and a seatpost.  I'm still afraid to calculate how much I’ve spent on gas, entry fees and Combos at Speedway.  No doubt the cost of Combos alone is nearing the cost of the six month property tax bill.  Still I got excited to open the 8^th place payout envelope last weekend.  I gave it to her when I got home. The real prize to me was the words "8th Place Elite Masters" written on the envelope itself.

She rides and races too, just not cross.  So in the fall, she has no interest in intervals, hill repeats or riding circles in the grass drooling and wheezing like a donkey.  The only thing that’s kept us working out together is the 45 minutes on Saturday mornings, the occasional  recovery ride and yoga.  Namaste to that.   

The season essentially ends tonight.  At least that’s the way I’m thinking about it.  I don’t know if she sees it yet, that there’s a Sunday in the future with our name on it.  There’s 4 races left, in three weekends.  Really, today being Thursday, November 18^th, I’ll line up in the grid for the last time in about 2 weeks.  Less if I decide against racing Indy.  I can count the number of interval workouts I have left.  Three.  The number of really hard gut busting donkey wheezing interval workouts is exactly one.

This is precisely why you set goals.  Not only do they justify the work and sacrifice to yourself, but those around you.  I heard her on the phone the other day telling a relative about some of my bad race luck with the tires and broken seatpost.  Then in a warmer tone she added, “The last two races were great for him.  He reached his top-ten goal.”  She cares.  She called me Number Eight Sunday night after my 8^th place finish.  When I think about it, the number eight is an infinite as a wedding ring.  That stuff makes a man feel all warm and gushy.

I’ve got my crampons dug in and I’m on the peak.  Endurance doesn’t matter anymore.  I’m not going to get any stronger than I am right now.  Speed and technique is all that’s left to tweak.  I’ll do my last real hill repeats tonight, race Sunday in Lexington, do some speed work mid next week, toss in a yoga class, eat some Turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie and green bean casserole and more mashed potatoes and race the State Championships at John Bryan. 

Tonight’s Biiiiiilly Goat ride is it.  Fin.  After that it’s a matter of making the most of the fitness I’ve built up since I started cutting the Saturday ride short, since I was home on Sunday afternoon, since I last spent an entire weekend riding with my wife.  It all ends tonight Honey.  For realzies.

I Heart Bobs

I’d rather be at a convention of lunatic evangelists, Brazilian soccer announcers and carpet pitchmen from Dalton, GA than have a Jillian as a personal trainer or fitness class instructor. So, ten seconds into the commercial break during The Biggest Loser, when asked the question of Bob or Jillian, I blurted an emphatic Bob.

I’m a Bob. For me exercise, particularly cycling, is an escape. Secondly, cycling is a sport where a cool head prevails. The last thing I need is a reverberating car dealership announcer screaming in my ear, playing make-believe dominatrix drill instructor and preaching the fire and brimstone of a sedentary lifestyle in my ear. Maybe that plays well on TV, but the last time I checked there weren’t camera people and a network producer in my gym. I’ll ride with a Bob, sign up for a personal training session with a Bob or take a spin class with a Bob any day over a Jillian. Having a Bob is more or less like paying a well respected athletic friend to promise to meet you for a ride and show you the way. That’s all I need. I can do the rest.

Jillians encompass the three personalities I dislike most: the smarmy salesperson, a preacher in disguise, and the blithering know-it-all expert. I want to put my ear buds in and crank up my I-pod volume just thinking about having a Jillian standing over my sit-ups, or in my team radio earpiece during a bike race. Types like Jillian are the reason I never go back to certain stores. Bob’s make me a loyal customer. So, I like Bob.

The more I think about it, The Biggest Loser cast the parts perfectly. For TV, Bob’s with their silent expectations and low-key demeanor aren’t too exciting to watch for two hours. Put a Bob in a room with a Jillian, tie them with a thread of common interest, and you’ve got drama. Thing is, I don’t need drama in my fitness. I can give myself a kick in the pants. I know how hard I have to work to do well in races. I know I looked a little chunky in that holiday photo. Seriously, I made my Aunt Take four photos. Moreover, I enjoy it. Like a tasty wave and a cool buzz, a good workout and good music and I am fine.

That’s why Bob’s are great. Bob’s get ya. They know you don’t need the hard-sell. You’re already in the store. Bob’s point you in the right direction and know there’s more to exercising than losing weight. Bob’s share your appreciation for the intricacies of the sport, and understand you’re there for peace of mind as much as the workout. Bob’s let you ask the questions, well knowing you did your research and likely know a lot already. He’s quietly confident you’ll make a good decision and make the sale. Like a used car salesman, Jillian’s think it was a miracle that you came to the store in the first place, she desperately can’t lose you and will stand in your way gushing about this and that till you just give in. Jillian’s think being louder, projecting a larger image and theoretically backing you into a corner is the only way to get through. It’s as if there were no difference between personal training at a gym and training a puppy. Jillian’s wish there were a human shocker collar. Zap! Harder! Zap! One more!

Bob’s know not to preach to the choir. It’s no secret, your here for fitness goals, all you need is a little tweak to get the most of out your workout. Keep your knees in. You’re going to have to hit this hill hard. Jillian’s give you the impression that the choir may be possessed. If Jillian pauses for a moment, you’ll be off your spin bike, eating pizza and downgrading your USAC license from a 3 to a 4. Therefore the gospel of exercise must be instilled upon thee at every possible moment. Dare a sheep stray from the flock. Ten more! C’mon! Don’t let that lunch turn into a spare tire! Puh-lease.

This just in. People who exercise and do sports aren’t necessarily interested in the latest JAMA study about the effect of stress on the effective metabolic rates of Portuguese lab monkeys. Spare me the doctorate dissertation. I get it Jillian. You’re a fitness expert. And, that’s why you’re on TV. However, it’s not what I’d like to have hoarsely shouted in my ear when my heart rate is at 85%. Bob’s understand that people exercise to relieve stress, not get stressed out by over zealous militant gym rats.

However, there is a place for Jillian’s. The reason is evident in her popularity on The Biggest Loser. While I’m somewhat of an athlete watching the show, there are millions more sedentary than I that need a minor explosion in their life to motivate them. The sad truth is most people need a Jillian. For those that have already seen the ways of exercise and sport, we don’t need our chamois set on fire, a perspiring pistol whipping, coupled with a reading of the holy fitness bible according to Saint Knowitall. We just need some good music and a Bob to tell us where we’re going today.

American Idle Workout

You got a suspected doper, a loudmouth who calls out all your faults, a skinny guy who tries to hold the group together and a guy who’s uses worn out phrases in every vocalization….pothole dawg.  It’s a typical breakaway group.  Tuesday night I’m riding with Paula, Randy, Simon and Ryan.  It’s the American Idol 2009 premiere and your chance to be more active than the billion or so real American idles who’ll watch the show growing a root in the sofa under a trough full of raspberry chocolate chip delight.  Below is a spinning trainer workout I’ve painstakingly created in 14.2 seconds that you can do on a bicycle trainer, a treadmill, elliptical or any other fitness apparatus you can stick in front of the TV.  It’s a two hour show, so mix it up if the thought of two hours on a bike trainer makes you urk up a puke.  Do an hour and fifteen minutes on the bike and a 45 minute run.  Print it off, take it to the gym, give it to your spinning instructor or bring it to your home torture chamber Tuesday night.  I tried to make it winter/spring friendly, meaning its more strength and endurance based.

SET-UP WARM UP

No doubt the first 5-10 minutes of the American Idol Season 8 Premiere before the first commercial break will relive past Idol shows, total train wreck performances and setting up where they are filming now blah-blah-blah.  Start spinning or walking and ramp yourself into a nice endurance type effort.  Take this pace into the first commercial break.

COMMERCIAL BREAK/PROMO PUSH

During commercials drop the tempo down to recovery mode, but get ready.  When the Fox promos come on (commercials that tease upcoming FOX shows and the local nightly newscast) up the tempo to 80 percent.  Chances are you’ll get nice little 3 minute recovery followed by a 20-60 second hard effort tempo intervals in every break, kind of like coming to the front of the paceline.  Be aware and pay attention, sometimes they’ll run commercials, a promo, another commercial and more promos. 

IDOL ENDURANCE

When the show comes back on, endure the show in endurance mode, a 75% effort, with the below exceptions.   

DAWG-STUPID-SLAM INTERVALS

During the show, whenever Randy says “dawg,” Paula says something stupid that sounds Vicadin induced, or Simon slams someone; you’re down for a 30 second hard tempo effort.  Just like during the commercial break promos, think of a turn at the front of the paceline or running over a little riser on your neighborhood run.  These are most likely to occur during judging.  If that’s the case, they could add up, so start your hard effort after the last judge is done speaking.  You could be down for up to a one and a half minute effort.  For example, when the singer really does actually sing well and Randy says, “yo dawg that was so money and you don’t even know it,” you’re in for 30 seconds.  Then Paula might say sniffling “you make me weep…you…are what this competition is all about.”  Now you’re in for a full minute, as long as Simon agrees.

TOKEN DUFUS DEATH MARCH

No doubt some time during Idol they’ll play cuts of some numb nut with something barely identifiable as a song spewing from their word hole.  When they play, you pay.  For the duration of the dufus, you’re up and out of the saddle in a big hill climbing gear or, if you’re on a treadmill, change the angle to “death march” mode.  Be aware that a Token Dufus might be followed by a quip from one of the judges.  If that’s the case, you might be cranking up the effort during the last part of that death march.

RECAP COOL DOWN

Probably with about 10 minutes left in the show, they’ll take a look back, replay the highlights, and tease the next episode.  You’re day is done at the 1:50 mark, cool down.