Training Update Part Dos

It's been a while since I posted last, and I've been feeling a little restless anyways so I'm gonna write some things about stuff.

I spent memorial day weekend in Boulder, CO doing a miniature Camp Delaware. The term Camp Delaware originally referred to the week I spent in Colorado over spring break, which basically consisted of Delaware kicking my ass up and down mountains and high altitude trails. I must say he's a hell of a training partner and really starting to become a beast. My "Best Ironman Finish Among My Friends" record will most certainly fall in November 2012 when we race Ironman Florida(In other news, we all want to race Ironman Florida...maybe I'll write about that at some point).

We drove out Friday and started the craziness Saturday morning with a 7 mile trail run above 6000 ft. We then lunched and later did a 40 mile bike ride called Super Jim. You see, the local riders have clever names for their regular routes. Riding to Jamestown, CO is referred to as the "Jim" ride. Riding another 4 miles past Jamestown is called the "Super Jim" ride. If you check out the elevation profile on that link, you'll see why. I can honestly say I've never ridden my bicycle up a steeper hill in my life, and I might even hesitate to call what I did "riding". Some stretches of those last 4 miles were 14% grade. The entire route is considered a Category 1 climb, for any of you who watch pro cycling. I was in my smallest possible gear and I was still moving no faster than 2-3 mph, and occasionally came to a complete standstill and at risk of tipping over due to lack of forward momentum. This is where the hardasses become hardasses. The entire climb gained over 3500 ft in elevation...and then we turned around.

The ride down was something else entirely. I realized immediately that I was uncomfortable pointing my bicycle down a hill this steep and winding. I became freaked out really really quickly by the huge gains in speed that I was having in a very short amount of time. I began to ride the brakes to try and control my speed and not become a smear on the pavement of some god-forsaken mountain road, but after a few minutes of this I could SMELL my brake pads. My hands were numb and beginning to cramp up and I was getting more and more freaked out by the fact that I could barely control my acceleration. So after suffering up that humongous hill without having to walk my bike once...it was the trip back down that got me out of the saddle. I pathetically began walking my bike down a hill that I was too chicken sh*t to ride down. It was humiliating and I began to temporarily hate cycling because I felt like a laughing stock. Delaware had waited at the top for our friend Alan so I had a few minutes head start coming down. When he flew by me on his way down, I wondered what he thought of me cowardly inching my way down this hill. I made it back down to Jamestown by alternating walking and riding to let the brakes sporadically cool off. The road from Jamestown to the bottom of the mountain was a much friendlier grade, and on another day I might have been comfortable going fast, but my nerves were already fried today and I took it slow. Overall this was a really great ride, despite the suffering and the wussy descent.

Sunday involved Del and I hitting a local outdoor pool that was 50 meters long. It was my first time in a pool that long, and the altitude definitely made me its bitch. At home I can do 500 meters without stopping for a breather(and a short one, at that). At this altitude, I could do 100 meters and then I'd need a 5 minute break. Del and I rocked out 2100 meters before calling it quits and heading downtown to pick up my BolderBoulder race packet and meet up with friends for lunch.

Much less sketchy on toprope!

After lunch, Del and I went climbing in Boulder Canyon with a friend of his from school. Delaware lead a 5.8 crack climb that was conveniently bolted. I followed and was surprised to find out I still know how to do hand jams, though my technique is nearly nonexistent. I attempted to lead a 5.7 slab, but only got 3-4 bolts in before a tricky friction move made me realize that not only did I no longer have the nerves for this, but that I really didn't feel like taking a cheese-grater lead fall on this particular day. Not worth it. Del finished the lead and I was able to do the move on toprope without too much difficulty. 

That night we had an enormous pasta dinner and then all hit the sack for our early wakeup call for the BolderBoulder 10k. My goal for this race was to run 7:30 splits. I had qualified for a pretty baller wave by running 7:30 splits at a 4 mile race in KC, and for some reason it seemed reasonable that I'd be able to repeat such a performance in a 10k at 5000+ feet elevation. Sometimes I'm not sure what the hell goes on in my brain. I did realistically project that I'd at least be able to PR. My goal was sub-47:00, and at the least a sub-48:00 would give me a PR. Long story short, I got nothing. I ran a decent race coming in at 50:20, but I did not feel good, never really settled in, and couldn't even manage an 8:00 min/mile pace. Oh well...some days you kill the bear, other days....well....

Pre-race photo-op!

After the race we all unwound a bit before packing to head home. Due to CERTAIN EVENTS that HAPPENED, we were required to make a stop in Denver before heading home. All was going according to plan. Del was driving his car, with the bikes on top, and I was in the car following him. I remember admiring my pretty bike...Lucille...she looked so good proudly mounted on Del's roof rack. I even commented on how good she looked up there, and that's when I failed to notice that Del was driving towards, and into,  a parking garage. The low-clearance bar was a fairly thick metal tube hanging from chains...a warning that tall vehicles would not fit in this parking garage.

DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!!!

I watched in slow motion as our bikes SLAMMED into the low clearance bar. My heart momentarily leaped out of my body via my throat, grew tiny arms and legs, slapped me in the face, kicked me in the balls, and then jumped back inside and resumed its job of pumping blood to various places in my body.

The impact knocked both bikes sideways, snapped one of his bike trays in half, and ripped the rack clamps from their perches above the doors. All I could tell from an immediate inspection was that the shifters looked broken, but I feared the worst...another cracked frame that would likely not be covered under warranty. The extra problem this added was that we would have a difficult time transporting two bikes back to Kansas with a broken bike rack. Del opted to leave his bike in Colorado for the week, and we disassembled mine and crammed it into the car as best we could. After taking care of the business that needed to be taken care of in Denver, we finally hit the road, and aside from incredibly strong winds and a freak dust storm that was MILES in diameter, we arrived home safely.

The bike has since been examined by my bike shop guy, and to my delight, the damage to the shifters was only superficial(i.e. they still work) and my frame is intact! Hooray!

In other news, school is still kicking my ass with pointless busy work, but I'm still managing decent mileage. The heat really kicked it up a few notches in the past few weeks and today I did an open-water swim followed immediately by a trail run...whew. Hot, sticky, and dehydrated is no way to go through life, son. I'm planning to ride tomorrow, but we're down to a little over a week until KS 70.3. I can't say that I'm terribly confident about breaking 6 hours, but I still think it's possible.

I suppose we'll just see if everything falls into place.

KTB, folks!

Bonus pic: Jesus races the Devil in Wave-A at BB10k!