Be Adventurous, Tell Stories

Apologies for going silent during the annual dose of cycling and running in Bend, Oregon last week. Pretty damn selfish, but at least I didn’t kill the Humble Blog like The Former Guy did. Grow a spine Former Guy, if I closed shop every time a “friend” made fun of the Humble Blog, the world would be bereft of all my insights. Cue “friends” making fun again.

Yesterday, I was driving north on Hwy 26 from Bend to Gresham at the same time as a badass woman in a convertible MiniCooper. Like me, she was OLD, but that didn’t stop her from embracing the elements. The air temp was 45F/7C, but we were doing 60mph, so adjust accordingly. She paired a hooded winter jacket with ski gloves.

I would never do that (how could I hear my podcasts; plus, my hair), but I loved that she was. Each time we leap frogged one another, I became more intrigued with her story. What kind of person drives with the top down when it’s hella cold? The answer of course is an adventurous one.

I wanted to meet her because anyone that adventurous has to have a lot of great stories from a life well lived. That’s one of the best things about adventures, besides the actual experience, you end up with a treasure trove of stories that enable others to experience your adventure vicariously, and therefore, for the experience to live on.

But then I ruminated on the fact that she was alone, which of course means she doesn’t get along with other people. I mean, if she did, even just a little, wouldn’t she have someone in the car with her? Someone she’s shared some adventures with?

So, maybe having a beer with her wouldn’t be so great an experience after all.

But then I thought about the fact that apart from Blanca and Rosa, I was alone in my car too. So who am I to judge, maybe I’m not God’s gift to interpersonal relations. So maybe I shouldn’t keep her solo-ness from proposing we stop for a beer in Sandy for some story telling.

But alas, I wasn’t adventurous enough to propose that, so I don’t have any stories to tell about the woman in the convertible MiniCooper.

Don’t be me. Get jabbed, be even more adventurous, meet people, and make stories.

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Cycling the Central Oregon High Desert

Apologies for not having any posts in the queue when I took off for Bend, Oregon last week for the annual Central Oregon 500, five days of consecutive 100 miles bicycle rides. I know it’s hard getting through the week without your normal filling of PressingPause.

I planned on riding days 1, 2, 3, and 5. My daily totals were 101, 103, 95, and 73, so the Central Oregon 372. When I left Sisters yesterday afternoon after the final ride, Rick Adams, a new 62 year old acquaintance from San Fransisco, was talking about riding back to Bend because he was sitting at 490. I tried to talk some sense into him, but there were lots of fit crazies.

I rode a lot with Ed from Seattle and Doug from Bend among many others. I was way more social than normal, meaning somewhat, drinking beer, hanging out, exaggerating our daily exploits after rides. I don’t do that enough. I show up five minutes before our local training rides leave and then peel off and head home near the end of them.

I don’t always like being social, but I can be. When I dropped my teammates off on Day Four I noticed there were a few more female riders than normal so that was a bad call. Speaking of which, Stephanie from Bend, born and raised in Olympia, just hammered despite not necessarily looking the part. Note to self, don’t judge a book by its cover.

Highlights included riding by what must have been the world’s largest Alpaca farm, hundreds and hundreds grazing on beautiful green fields, half of them shorn, half not. Is there a cuter, more uncoordinated looking animal? Yesterday’s exclamation point, McKenzie Pass. . . lava rock, snow covered peaks in immediate distance, snow on the side of the road at the top, descending into deep forest. Speaking of descending, new record on Day 1 with a tail wind down the Century Highway, 49.2.

Lowlight. Getting hit in the face by a large insect at high speed. Watching Nicole zig and a dog zag while climbing McKenzie. An unexpected but relatively tame crash on a closed course.

Rest easy dear reader. I am swapping seats, from the bike to the blog, stay tuned and thanks for reading as always.

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Canada Seven Weeks Out

[Note to newer readers. I’m competing in a long distance triathlon on August 26th in Penticton, Canada—2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile “run”.]

June was productive. I’m fit although I’m swimming, cycling, and running slower than I’d like. Rightly or wrongly I’m chalking that up to the higher than normal volume. When I shut things down for a day or two, I bounce back well. I’m looking forward to the August taper and to returning to more normal, sane levels of activity post-race.

Too soon for a definitive judgement, but right now, I’m even more convinced that repeat Iron-distance competitors have several screws lose. One problem is never feeling as if you’re doing enough. I’m training more than normal, but still often feel it’s not enough. Right now I feel especially badly since today is my second rest day of the week. Of course I nearly killed myself on my mountain bike yesterday, but still.

My suggestion, if you ever suffer the same kind of mental lapse I did and sign up for a similar “race”, is to design a standard week that is realistically repeatable. For the love of alliteration I repeat, realistically repeatable. I’ve had to adjust my original weekly swimming, cycling, and running goals down. I’ve also had to build in a weekly rest day (or two). Getting ready is more about consistency and positive momentum than uber-long workouts that often result in missed workouts.

Rereading that last pgraph makes me chuckle. I sound like I know what I’m doing, but I don’t. These are unchartered waters. I wish I could hit it hard this week, taper for the next three, and race, but most participants probably wish they could just be done with it as this point.

Last week, thanks to some of the more generous friends a guy could have, I once again trained at altitude, even if only 4,000′ plus, in and around Sunriver, Oregon. The week consisted of a mix of Benham Falls trail runs, Mount Bachelor cycling, North pool swimming, and a memorable Sunriver to Bend and back mountain bike ride. Even had great, built-in training partners for most workouts.

That was especially nice when I went over my mountain bike handlebars on the penultimate day. I rode smack dab into an 18″ vertical rock on the side of an easy trail. Total lapse of concentration that I paid dearly for. Quite possibly the world’s worst mountain biker. I thought I had broken my nose and lost a tooth and needed lots of stitches. Fortunately, I was cut up and badly bruised, but avoided the emergency room. Very sore, but I’ll be fine in short order. That sigh of relief is the worldwide triathlon media which is already downbeat with Lance on the sidelines.

Another training tip from the rookie know-it-all—be sure to throw your back out and face plant on your mountain bike at least eight weeks before the start.

In related news, I’m sorry to report elder brother, a 2002 Iron-distance Canada finisher, also known as Wonder Years Wayne, has already launched his psychological attack. I HAVE to beat his time of 11 hours, 44 minutes, and 58 seconds otherwise I may have to re-up and the idea of that isn’t very pleasant right now. He takes great pride in accurately predicting my finishing times. Last week he emailed ludicrous numbers in what was an obvious attempt to get me to swim fast, cycle faster, and then blow up somewhere along Shaka Lake during the run. In a shameless flourish even by his standards, he threw in a Hawaii World Championship reference. Not taking the bait. Wouldn’t be prudent.

Here’s to one more month of going long. One more update pre-race.

Postscript—If you’re interested in either writing and/or the importance of positive thinking in athletic performance dig this recent story.