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Rookie’s Perspective on Training for the STP: Week 6: Skipped it to go running

Monday, May 20th, 2013 by

I missed last week’s ride. I’m so screwed.

I wasn’t sitting around last weekend: I ran about 12 miles in the Sunflower relay in the Methow Valley.

But I wasn’t biking, and as a result, I’ve lost some emotional momentum. I can’t find any oflast week’s “how hard could it be” confidence.

I’m feeling scared. Scared of the 76 miles coming up this weekend; scared of the relentless progression to longer and longer rides. If my older brothers weren’t riding the STP with me, if I hadn’t paid for this training series, if I wasn’t writing this blog (!), I’d be thinking about quitting about now.

But I’m not going to quit. So I guess I have to suck it up.

Running with a friend at the top of the Methow

Running with a friend at the top of the Methow

I thought a lot about biking while I was running in the Methow. I remembered back in the day when I found myself in love with more than one man at a time: biking and trail running feels a bit like that. Always dreaming of the other.

I ran Leg 2 of the Sunflower, which had a long, flat, hot stretch paralleling Highway 20. Not ideal running conditions for me, but oh! it would have been lovely on a bike. I ran the last 6.5-mile leg just for fun, trotting through fields of wildflowers with high vistas of the North Cascades. I couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off my face – so in love with the trail and the place and the moment. You couldn’t get there on a road bike. (Well, I couldn’t anyway.)

I started off my 5.7-mile leg way too fast, of course, all buzzed with adrenaline and excitement. I was surprised how strong I felt, and thanked those hills I’ve been biking up recently. I passed runner after runner at the beginning of the leg – who cares that they were likely pacing for a marathon and running twice as far as me in 90-degree heat:  I was leaving them in the dust.

I don’t wear a watch and after maybe 4 miles asked a volunteer how much farther to the exchange with Leg 3. She said about a mile and a half. No problem, I thought, and soldiered on. And on. And on. I finally asked another volunteer how much farther, and she said, “Oh, about a mile and a half.” Maybe I should wear a watch.
I didn't want the run to end

I got on my bike on Monday for a 30-mile ride (and weight workout, which in retrospect was perhaps overdoing it). Riding the last miles home through a thunderstorm and driving rain, I felt tired. Bone tired. I got myself up the Seward Park Ave. hill on some reserve of will. And spent the rest of the day eating, beginning with my children’s leftover cereal from that morning.

I’ve been feeling pretty tired after rides. I know how to recover after a run: I know what to expect and what it takes out of me. But these rides, even a short, 30-mile (I love that 30 miles is now “short”) ride, leave me feeling wasted. Exhausted. I haven’t been this tired since I was pregnant. My coaching practice is neglected, my house is a mess, my children are raising themselves, my partner is shaking his head. I’m too tired to deal.

I need to figure out recovery. (And I take any advice in the comments below very seriously, so thank you in advance.)

And in the meantime, I’ve got a 76-mile ride on Sunday.

I’m going to practice looking forward to it, rather than being scared of it. I’m getting myself properly equipped with compression shorts and white tops (thank you, Lamar, for that tip). I’m not going to feel guilty about taking a couple of days off, not going to feel guilty about not taking the dog for a run.

How’s this sound: “I’m so looking forward to Sunday’s ride – we’ll be riding through some beautiful country and I’m curious what 76 miles feels like on fresh legs.”

I almost buy it.

Kathryn Saxer is currently enrolled in the Cascade Training Series, a 13-week training series designed to prepare Cascade members physically and mentally for  the Group Health STP or RSVP. She’s a personal and professional coach in Seattle. When not learning how to bike long distances, she likes to run in the mountains, share adventures with her 7- and 9-year-old children, and cook terrible dinners for her beloved and long-suffering partner. She’ll be reporting on her CTS journey weekly. 

Posted in Cascade Training Series, Daily Rides, Events, STP, Women ride bikes | 5 Comments »

Rookie’s Perspective on Training for the STP: Week 5: 67 Miles, 1849’ Elevation

Friday, May 10th, 2013 by

The day after riding 67 miles, I found myself considering the Flying Wheels’ 100-mile loop.

This is one day after being so tired I couldn’t fall asleep because my legs hurt too much; one day after being so tired that I tried to pour myself a glass of wine with the bottle corked (to my friends’ great amusement); one day after I was filled with joyous relief to get off my bicycle at the end of the ride.

And now I’m thinking about an extracurricular 100 miles? I guess the bug has bitten.

Or maybe it was the sunshine. Much more fun than riding in cold rain.

When people ask me about the 67-mile route, I’ve been saying that we biked to Tacoma. But I have no idea how we got there.  “I just follow the butt in front of me,” I say.

We rolled out of Renton promptly at 9 (can I say again how much I appreciate CTS’ punctuality) in warm morning sunshine — a bit of a different climate from last week.

The warm weather posed a conundrum for me. I’d finally figured out cold weather gear: I was comfortable on my saddle in running tights, a running skort, and rain paints. But I didn’t know what to do in hot sunshine.

I did some experimenting midweek: I rode the Cedar River trail in my partner’s padded biking shorts and a skort, and was desperate to take off the bike shorts by the time I got to the turnaround point at the end of the trail. Padded bike shorts are like wearing a giant maxi pad and I don’t get how you all can stand them. This clothing change was particularly exciting since I had read somewhere not to wear underwear on long rides and I had to take the skort off to get off the bike shorts. My shorts got caught in my bike shoes and I frantically danced around bare-assed, praying no one would come around the corner.

So what to wear for 67 miles in 80-degree weather? I settled on my running skort, which was fine except that by mile 50 the shorts part kept riding up. I think this is all a good excuse to buy a cute (unpadded!) biking skort. By the end of the ride, our ride leader was talking about butt cream which is an image I don’t need in my head.

But I digress.

Moments after leaving the Renton City Hall parking lot we were on roads I’d never seen before with occasional views of Mount Rainier. There were a couple of jolly personalities on the ride and they, combined with the sunshine, set a happy tone. These training rides have tended to be very heads-down serious and it was a pleasure – energizing – to hear laughter and goofiness around me.

Laughing at the photographerLaughter and goofiness at the top of the hill

We had a quick rest stop at mile 20 and a luxurious 20-minute stop at around mile 40. I had been looking forward to that 20-minute stop all week. In fact, the ride had been on my mind all week, a huge task looming at the edge of my consciousness. I can’t believe how blithely I signed up for all this; I mean, how hard could a bike ride be?

Ha!

There were two hills to speak of on the ride.  One was a long, hot climb up Peasley Canyon, which I’d never heard of, and another up Dash Point, which maybe I had. Later on the ride, I could see a big, steep hill ahead of us and my heart sank. And then, like a Christmas gift, the group turned to the right and we swept past the hill. “That was going to be a little less fun for a minute there,” I joked with the rider behind me.

The view from Dash Point over Tacoma to Mount Rainier was dazzling, and then we were headed back towards Renton. Eventually we ended up on the Interurban Trail, although I am entirely unclear on how we got there. And I had my first experience with a serious headwind.

I kept thinking about penguins. If I stayed close to the group, I could pedal along easily in the breeze, like a penguin sheltered from the Antarctic blizzards by the big huddle of other penguins. But if I strayed behind I was lost, like the tragic baby penguin left behind in the storm in the Planet Earth documentaries. Slowing to get over railroad tracks, I had to push as hard as I could to catch up, genuinely afraid that I wasn’t strong enough and that I would get left behind in the Antarctic wind. I spent most of that long, monotonous trail tucked in behind a burly 28-year-old (thanks, Nathan!) and hung on for dear life.

And now that I’ve done 67 miles, I’m cockily thinking about 100. I mean, how hard could it be?

Kathryn Saxer is currently enrolled in the Cascade Training Series, a 13-week training series designed to prepare Cascade members physically and mentally for  the Group Health STP or RSVP. She’s a personal and professional coach in Seattle. When not learning how to bike long distances, she likes to run in the mountains, share adventures with her 7- and 9-year-old children, and cook terrible dinners for her beloved and long-suffering partner. She’ll be reporting on her CTS journey weekly. 

Posted in Cascade Training Series, Daily Rides, Women ride bikes | 5 Comments »

Rookie’s Perspective on Training for the STP: Week #4: 55 Miles, 2387’ Elevation

Friday, May 3rd, 2013 by

55 miles. That’s the kind of distance where people start to look impressed when you say, “Oh yeah, I rode 55 miles today.”

I need to start training.

I moved from Yellow (12-14 miles an hour) to Green (14-16 miles an hour) for Saturday’s ride from Marymoor out to Snohomish. I was nervous beforehand, but in an excited kind of way, not a dreading kind of way. I was curious about what 55 miles would feel like, but mostly I was looking forward to the route eastwards, to biking somewhere I’d never been before, to getting somewhere.

My subconscious had something to say about the ride: I had a dream the night before that my seven-year-old daughter was joining me on her kid-sized, gearless bike. In the dream I felt a little nervous about how she would manage 55 miles.

But the faster pace was fine and if I hadn’t started in yellow there would be no question about whether I could do it. The only difference between yellow and green that I could notice without a bike computer was that the pace didn’t sag on the hills.

We set out north from Marymoor, rode up and over into the Snohomish River valley, along the valley for a ways, and then up and out of the valley. Almost immediately, we were in old Redmond, riding past old farms and along rolling country roads, the busyness and congestion of the suburbs behind us. We passed a farm where a Bernese Mountain Dog (my first love) watched us with affable alertness and past an oddly jumping cow. I had a feeling I could ride a long, long way on country roads.

Well, except for the hills.

I usually have a good relationship with hills. I like to think of them as flats on an incline. I like the workout, I like getting to the top, I like how there is an end, usually in sight, if you keep pushing with patience. The rides I’m proudest of to date (the Chilly Hilly, the bonus CHEW ride) were hilly rides.

But there’s a chance I might have been a bit, well, overly confident in my climbing abilities. I didn’t get left behind, I didn’t – heaven forbid! – hold up the group but I got pretty tired climbing in and out of that river valley. I ate my emergency Mocha Double Espresso Cliff Shot but it didn’t help, or if it did, I was too tired to tell.

It started to pour around mile 30 and we rode mile after mile in rain. I could feel puddles squishing in my shoes. I hadn’t learned about the visor trick yet (thank you, Lamar!) and the rain dripped from my helmet in salty streams into my mouth. I fantasized about curling up in front of our gas fireplace when I got home.

We don’t have a gas fireplace.

On a very busy, fast, four-lane road back into Redmond, the ride leader signaled for us to take over the right lane and ride abreast with a buddy, even though there was a bike lane. Cars could pass us on the left, so we weren’t holding up traffic. I rode on the inside next to a nice, chatty woman and have never felt safer riding in traffic. I think the drivers out there felt sorry for the pathetic group of drowned rats riding down the highway on bicycles.

And then there was one last hill – not even a big hill – through the last light industrial section before getting back to Marymoor. And I ran out of gas. Rider after rider passed me as I slowly and humbly pulled my way up that damn hill.

When I finally got home, sat in a hot shower, and climbed into bed under the heating blanket on HIGH, I was so tired I felt like crying. So, yeah, I think I need to start taking this mid-week training recommendation more seriously. Next week is 65 miles.

Later that evening as I was putting the chickens to bed, after hosting a dinner party (which is something I’m never doing after a long ride again), I was grateful I didn’t have to get on Blue the next day.

I need to start training.

Kathryn Saxer is currently enrolled in the Cascade Training Series, a 13-week training series designed to prepare Cascade members physically and mentally for  the Group Health STP or RSVP. She’s a personal and professional coach in Seattle. When not learning how to bike long distances, she likes to run in the mountains, share adventures with her 7- and 9-year-old children, and cook terrible dinners for her beloved and long-suffering partner. She’ll be reporting on her CTS journey weekly. 

Posted in Cascade Training Series, Daily Rides, Events, STP | No Comments »

Rookie’s Perspective on Training for the STP: Week 3: 43 Miles, 2000’ Elevation

Friday, April 26th, 2013 by

By mile 40, I’m checking my middle-aged aches and pains:

Back (bulging disc) doesn’t hurt; knees (chondromalacia patella) are a little sore but not painful. At the beginning of Saturday’s ride my elbows hurt, a lot, but by mile 40 I had either acclimated to the pain or they had healed themselves.

So far, so good.

Mentally, Saturday’s ride felt far. Looking at the map beforehand, I felt overwhelmed by the huge loop from Redmond, down Lake Sammamish to Issaquah, west to Lake Washington along I-90 and under 405, north along Lake Washington past Medina and Kirkland, and then somehow we’re in Bothell with a long road back to Marymoor Park. These are places I would usually drive to!

Before setting out into the gray, cold, drizzly morning, I had to remind myself that, so far, I have often dreaded the ride but that the ride is always exhilarating. It helped that I’d written that down a couple of weeks ago, a clear promise to myself that it was worth getting into the car and driving to Marymoor.  It’s funny how easy it is to forget the payoff when faced with 50 miles of gray drizzle.

Our uncanny good weather luck continued to hold, however. (Now I’ve jinxed it!). A cooling mist for the first half of the ride and even some sunshine by our second rest stop. So far, we haven’t had to ride in driving rain.

Rest stops are about every dozen miles and are a prompt 10 minutes each. Which is not a lot of time when you have to wait in line for a toilet to get rid of that big cup of coffee you drank on the drive over to Marymoor. “I have to decide between peeing and eating,” I joked after the ride.

But, again, I appreciated the punctuality of the CTS leaders and floats, keeping us moving and on task.

“Rolling out in one minute,” a float called as I gulped down the last of my hard-boiled egg covered in hemp seed hearts and nutritional yeast.

 “Is that a piece of fish?” a fellow rider asked, eyeing my weird food dubiously.

I explained that it was one of my chicken’s eggs and immediately connected with another urban chicken owner. We tried to chat about chickens but it’s tough to talk while biking on a highway.

This ride was called the “Eastside Urban Loop” and I am weary of riding in traffic. Cars are terrifying and I don’t need to ride on Coal Creek Parkway on a bicycle again anytime soon. I’m looking forward to quiet country backroad scenery, to mountains and farmland and river valleys.

At about mile 30, one of the floats led a splinter group off at a faster pace. From the back, I watched them take off and remember thinking, “Damn, now I get to feel guilty for choosing to go slow.” Nevertheless, at the next regrouping, I found myself taking off with them.

It felt so good to go faster. Freeing.  Happy, even on a busy Eastside parkway. Those ten miles, up a big hill, were the most fun I had all ride.

At the debriefing at the end of the ride, our ride leader suggested in no uncertain terms that those of us who took off should consider riding Green (14-16 miles an hour) next week.

Yellow #1, I feel like I’m cheating on you but I think I might try Green. It’s me, not you. You’ve been a wonderful place to get started (thank you Wayne the Ride Leader and Mark the Safety Guy and all the floats) but I think I need to ride faster.

Can we still be friends, particularly if I get left behind with a sore back, knees and elbows on next Saturday’s 55-mile Green ride out the country roads to Snohomish?

Kathryn Saxer is currently enrolled in the Cascade Training Series, a 13-week training series designed to prepare Cascade members physically and mentally for  the Group Health STP or RSVP. She’s a personal and professional coach in Seattle. When not learning how to bike long distances, she likes to run in the mountains, share adventures with her 7- and 9-year-old children, and cook terrible dinners for her beloved and long-suffering partner. She’ll be reporting on her CTS journey weekly. 

Posted in Cascade Training Series, STP | 2 Comments »

Rookie’s Perspective on Training for the STP: Week 1: 28 Miles, 1160’ Elevation

Friday, April 12th, 2013 by

I knew it was going to be good when I saw the sign at the entrance to the park:

CTS Parking

Professionally printed, clear logo, easy to read. This is going to be a well-organized, thought-through event, I thought as I followed the signs into the parking lot for the first CTS ride.

“Good morning!” the gentleman in the yellow ride leader jersey called to me from the next car.

Friendly, too, I thought as I smiled hello.

I was very early for that first morning of STP training. I’ve been chronically late to all my pre-training rides, stressed and scrambling with the details of riding a bike: helmet and sunglasses and bike shoes and water and food and bike rack and pumping the tires. Different from running, where all I need is a jog bra, a pair of shoes (maybe), and my dog.

This biking thing has lots of details to keep track of.

I was bound and determined to be early and calm and ready to go for my first CTS ride. It does not, however, take an hour to drive from Seward Park, where I live, to Magnuson Park, where the ride started. So I had plenty of time to hang out in the cold morning wind and recheck my list:

• Tires pumped
• Helmet
• Glasses (clear and tinted)
• Bike shoes
• Booties
• Hat
• Food
• Water
•  Gloves (warm and fingerless)
• Cue sheet
• Phone
• Tampons
• Ibu
• Car locked
• Headlights off

I typed out that list a couple of weeks ago after I arrived late to a 40-mile ride out to Black Diamond and forgot sunglasses. My eyeballs still don’t feel right. I was so stressed about being late that morning that I forgot to lock the car. And then paused my GPS app rather than starting it. I wanted none of that drama for this first ride.

Calm and freezing, I was ready to go when my group, Yellow #1, rolled out of the parking lot, right on time. I thought about the proverb: the longest journey starts with the first step. I don’t care if it’s cliché: I was thrilled to be taking that first step with this group of riders around me.

Unfortunately for me, that first step was a ride to Seward Park, where I’d just driven from. “Hey Wayne!” I called to my ride leader when we stopped at Seward Park. “I live a half mile up the hill. You all want to come over for coffee?” Wouldn’t my partner have been surprised.

“Maybe next time,” he yelled back.

Prior to the start of CTS, I agonized over whether to sign up for Yellow (12-14 miles an hour) or Green (14-16 miles an hour). I asked lots of experienced riders and got all kinds of conflicting advice:

“Stretch yourself, you don’t want to be bored,” to “Every ride will be the farthest you’ve ever ridden, don’t make it the fastest, too.” I tried riding too far, too fast on a training ride and hated the weepy, frustrated feeling of being left behind. So I’ve decided to ride Yellow.

Riding in Yellow #1 was like a comfortable jog. Just right for distance, which will be stretch enough once we get to 60, 70, and 100 miles. I’m in the right group.

There are about 20 of us in Yellow #1 including ride leader, sweep, and many floats. Many, many floats. Did I already say there were a lot of floats?

As we headed south toward my stomping grounds, I felt a bit, well, like I was on a well-chaperoned field trip. When my pump fell off for some reason (note to self: stop when the bike makes a new noise), three men stopped to watch me Velcro it back on and tell me I did it wrong. Which I appreciated, but it is a bit intimidating to fix my bike with an audience.

I don’t like the feeling of being chaperoned and so I practiced feeling appreciative instead:

I appreciated feeling looked after and supported; I appreciated knowing people will stop and help if my bike breaks; I appreciated learning a new route through the backside of the UW; I appreciated the safety lesson about not riding so closely to parked cars; I appreciated the friendliness of the other riders; I appreciated how pretty the ride was; I appreciated that the rain started as we were pulling back into the parking lot at the end of the ride.

Most of all, I appreciated how easily my legs and my bike rolled over those 28 miles in the chilly spring weather. I can’t wait for next week’s ride.

Kathryn Saxer is currently enrolled in the Cascade Training Series, a 13-week training series designed to prepare Cascade members physically and mentally for  the Group Health STP or RSVP. She’s a personal and professional coach in Seattle. When not learning how to bike long distances, she likes to run in the mountains, share adventures with her 7- and 9-year-old children, and cook terrible dinners for her beloved and long-suffering partner. She’ll be reporting on her CTS journey weekly. 

Posted in Cascade Training Series, Events, STP, Women ride bikes | 2 Comments »

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