Last Saturday was the most physically and emotionally draining day of my life,
and I've been physically and emotionally drained before. This was the worst.
It all started off so innocently. I need cycling experience, so I singed up for
Andiamo Fitness' Spring Cycling Clinic to get geared up for the spring and
summer triathlon season. Although I signed up a bit late, I still get 8 more
Saturdays to learn all the ins and outs of hill climbing, cornering, and
descending.
Now, I've gone on bike rides before. I've even gone 20 whole miles. I've never
really kept track. I did twelve miles in a sprint triathlon, and I averaged 20
mph. Another time, someone I was riding with said that we were going twenty
whole miles an hour. Boy, did I think I was fast.
Well, that was on a bike path in Danville. This was a lot different.
For one thing, it's pretty amazing how quickly your body can burn up calories.
I thought for sure that Cliff Bar would provide more than adequate energy.
Well, I was wrong. This was not a place to fall asleep at the wheel.
Nor was I expecting rain. None of us were. I've gone running in the rain.
You're warm enough, and if you wear a hat, it's not so bad. It's almost kind of
peaceful.
Churning up that Marshall grade, travelling at a whopping 4 mph, scared to
stop, knowing that if I did, I'd only roll backwards down the hill, in the
rain, with no rain gear, with snot flowing down my face, my glasses so wet from
the rain drops that I couldn't see, made me almost cry, except that that would
require energy that I did not have.
Other riders whimpered in agony. Some turned around and went home. I kept
going, not because I am a strong person, but because I was too afraid to turn
around. I might fall.
Nearing Pt. Reyes, my carbohydrate stores were so depleted that I was dizzy,
and I did not know how I'd make it back to our home base at the Cheese Factory.
Only 11 more miles, the sign said. Our total would be 41.
Climbing the last grade back to the Cheese Factory, our coach drove along side
us and issued out helpful tips, like, "Try pedaling faster!" I paid money for
this.
By the time I finally made it back to our home base, I felt like I had been
violated, that I was the victim of some horrible joke. I couldn't even stand up
for the debriefing in the parking lot. I thought I would pass out right then
and there. I couldn't stand up even to order my sandwich in the Cheese Factory.
There was nothing but the burning, oh the burning in my quads and there was
nothing, NOTHING I could do to make it stop.
Yet, I am driven by one thing. Okay, two. Three. The first one is, I paid good
money for this. I have to follow through. And the other is that thanks to an
excellent fitting by coach Phil the Friday previous, I endured this torturous
day with nary any knee pain, an absolute first.
I can't remember what the third reason is. Pride, I think.
Katie K.
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