Finding power where it’s least expected?
Or finding a daunting task much easier than expected?
Better yet, finding the way back to the top shorter and easier than it appeared on the way down?
I’d like to think this phenomena in cycling is a good lesson to carry over into life.
I needed a 12.5 mile ride yesterday, as per my “training plan”, but I’d missed a couple of rides and it had been exceedingly windy for the previous 9 days. I decided to start with 12.5 and see how I felt. Leaving home at 3:45 meant I already had somewhat of a time constraint. But I threw my headlamp in my jersey pocket just in case darkness caught me miles from home.
I began the ride by taking the bike trail/MUP East, figuring I’d ride to where the pavement ends and decide where to go from there. But after a couple of miles I’d already decided the Sandy River was calling my name. The majority of my rides over the past few months had taken me along the Clackamas, so it was time for a change of scenery.
After about 10 miles I decided I’d better be realistic about how much time I had and how my legs were feeling, being that I was already feeling a dull burn and having a little trouble with gradual climbs and the light headwind that was coming at me intermittently. I took a left just before Dodge Park Road dropped down the hill into the river valley, knowing if I continued straight and down the hill I was in for a long loop with a few miles of sustained climbing to get back up. And with recent rain and very large Maple trees filling the valley, I was slightly apprehensive about fast, tricky descending in late day light.
The left turn provided a couple of short mellow hills, which served to warm my legs up and made me feel much better about the dull burn I had been feeling. It was getting less and less with each climb, and I was surprised to find that I wasn’t getting fatigued after 10 miles, but rather just warming up.
After crossing 2 more intersections I came to 2 no outlet signs: one a confirmed dead end (I confirmed it just then), and the other the road down into Oxbow Park. I’d been down to Oxbow Park a couple of times before, but never on the bike. I knew the river was about 500 feet below me, and that the road through Oxbow was long, but I also knew it was less than half the distance of the Dodge Park loop, and I was pretty pumped to ride some more mileage and some more hills now that my legs were warm.
I went ahead and took the Oxbow Park Rd. As I was rolling down the hill, tucked tight against my stem, hands in the drops in boxer position, fingers teasing the brakes, I noted how much speed I was building, and how far and fast I was traveling down into the river valley. I couldn’t help thinking it was going to be a long, burly bitch of a climb back up this hill. I’m not trying to sound like a weenie, scared of a little climbing.
However, my front shifter had been broken for a few weeks, and I’d chosen to lock out the derailleur in the big ring, since Portland is primarily flat and pretty easy to get around at 53xanything. I was just concerned that with 53x28 being my easiest gear, I might end up walking the steepest bits of this ride back out of here.
The descending was fun, though, and the road was deserted, the views spectacular. I wanted to ride it all the way to the end, to see the erosion along the river banks and the washouts that had half of Oxbow Park closed to any use, and the entire place off limits to camping. I got to the end, turned around and found a good spot to get right to the edge of the bank. I took a few pictures, drank some water, put my headlight on and stretched the crap out of my hamstrings, quads, calves and hips for the ride back up.
I dug in for the climb, stood up out of the saddle for the steepest parts, kept accelerating through the faux plats, and found myself back on top in 5 minutes, with no cramps, no stitches, no real pain to speak of. It was much easier than expected, and in fact quite a fun climb! I even felt so good I climbed a couple of extra hills on the way home instead of weaving my way around them and returning by the flat, albeit slightly longer route.
When I reached the last 5 miles of the ride, I found the endorphin rush exhilarating, and found myself pushing 24mph for 3 miles. The tailwind must have been helping me out. I shifted back up to the 28 for the last mile and a half to spin out the lactic acid buildup, and got home feeling light, energized, and perfectly ready to ride another 20 miles. So, instead of heading inside, I rolled around the block to the schoolyard and did some chest opening stretches and push ups, pull ups, and hanging leg lifts. It felt good to target my core and give it a little extra something after the ride, and I could feel my lower back getting more used to climbing in the bigger gear.
I guess I’m building slowly and gradually enough to avoid throwing my back out or straining it with this large gear. I still don’t think I’m ready to go climb up to Skyline Rd at 53x28, but I think I will find it easier to make the transition back up to 86 gear inches on the track come May.
Brutish-looking, intimidating climbs melting away under my wheels? Awesome!
Or finding a daunting task much easier than expected?
Better yet, finding the way back to the top shorter and easier than it appeared on the way down?
I’d like to think this phenomena in cycling is a good lesson to carry over into life.
I needed a 12.5 mile ride yesterday, as per my “training plan”, but I’d missed a couple of rides and it had been exceedingly windy for the previous 9 days. I decided to start with 12.5 and see how I felt. Leaving home at 3:45 meant I already had somewhat of a time constraint. But I threw my headlamp in my jersey pocket just in case darkness caught me miles from home.
I began the ride by taking the bike trail/MUP East, figuring I’d ride to where the pavement ends and decide where to go from there. But after a couple of miles I’d already decided the Sandy River was calling my name. The majority of my rides over the past few months had taken me along the Clackamas, so it was time for a change of scenery.
After about 10 miles I decided I’d better be realistic about how much time I had and how my legs were feeling, being that I was already feeling a dull burn and having a little trouble with gradual climbs and the light headwind that was coming at me intermittently. I took a left just before Dodge Park Road dropped down the hill into the river valley, knowing if I continued straight and down the hill I was in for a long loop with a few miles of sustained climbing to get back up. And with recent rain and very large Maple trees filling the valley, I was slightly apprehensive about fast, tricky descending in late day light.
The left turn provided a couple of short mellow hills, which served to warm my legs up and made me feel much better about the dull burn I had been feeling. It was getting less and less with each climb, and I was surprised to find that I wasn’t getting fatigued after 10 miles, but rather just warming up.
After crossing 2 more intersections I came to 2 no outlet signs: one a confirmed dead end (I confirmed it just then), and the other the road down into Oxbow Park. I’d been down to Oxbow Park a couple of times before, but never on the bike. I knew the river was about 500 feet below me, and that the road through Oxbow was long, but I also knew it was less than half the distance of the Dodge Park loop, and I was pretty pumped to ride some more mileage and some more hills now that my legs were warm.
I went ahead and took the Oxbow Park Rd. As I was rolling down the hill, tucked tight against my stem, hands in the drops in boxer position, fingers teasing the brakes, I noted how much speed I was building, and how far and fast I was traveling down into the river valley. I couldn’t help thinking it was going to be a long, burly bitch of a climb back up this hill. I’m not trying to sound like a weenie, scared of a little climbing.
However, my front shifter had been broken for a few weeks, and I’d chosen to lock out the derailleur in the big ring, since Portland is primarily flat and pretty easy to get around at 53xanything. I was just concerned that with 53x28 being my easiest gear, I might end up walking the steepest bits of this ride back out of here.
The descending was fun, though, and the road was deserted, the views spectacular. I wanted to ride it all the way to the end, to see the erosion along the river banks and the washouts that had half of Oxbow Park closed to any use, and the entire place off limits to camping. I got to the end, turned around and found a good spot to get right to the edge of the bank. I took a few pictures, drank some water, put my headlight on and stretched the crap out of my hamstrings, quads, calves and hips for the ride back up.
I dug in for the climb, stood up out of the saddle for the steepest parts, kept accelerating through the faux plats, and found myself back on top in 5 minutes, with no cramps, no stitches, no real pain to speak of. It was much easier than expected, and in fact quite a fun climb! I even felt so good I climbed a couple of extra hills on the way home instead of weaving my way around them and returning by the flat, albeit slightly longer route.
When I reached the last 5 miles of the ride, I found the endorphin rush exhilarating, and found myself pushing 24mph for 3 miles. The tailwind must have been helping me out. I shifted back up to the 28 for the last mile and a half to spin out the lactic acid buildup, and got home feeling light, energized, and perfectly ready to ride another 20 miles. So, instead of heading inside, I rolled around the block to the schoolyard and did some chest opening stretches and push ups, pull ups, and hanging leg lifts. It felt good to target my core and give it a little extra something after the ride, and I could feel my lower back getting more used to climbing in the bigger gear.
I guess I’m building slowly and gradually enough to avoid throwing my back out or straining it with this large gear. I still don’t think I’m ready to go climb up to Skyline Rd at 53x28, but I think I will find it easier to make the transition back up to 86 gear inches on the track come May.
Brutish-looking, intimidating climbs melting away under my wheels? Awesome!
