The following post is (a) long and (b) has nothing whatsoever to do with anything literary so feel free to ignore it entirely. If you're mildly curious, hit the jump.
On November 19, I will participate in El Tour de Tucson. It's a "century" - a 100+ mile bike race - that's held every year, with this year's course clocking in at 109 miles. (The photo above occurs at a point in the race where riders are obliged to dismount, hoist their bikes and traverse a dry riverbed.)
A few years ago I began spinning at a small spinning studio in Santa Monica. I've blogged about it here before, and received my fair share of teasing for my increasingly single-minded devotion to both it and my coach Gary Kobat (about whom more later). But I'd always been a bit of a dilletante and it was only last October that something clicked and I got serious.
By serious, I mean actually adding resistance to the wheel. I mean riding hard at higher heart rates. And not backing off when it began to hurt.
In January, I kicked it up another level. I began doing "doubles" on Tuesdays and Thursdays, followed by a weight training session with Gary. This added up to two hours of riding twice a week, and then another 90 minutes apiece on Saturday and Sunday.
Finally, last April, I got onto an outdoor bike. Gary and I took several weeks building it from scratch, creating something I would be proud to ride. And I started training for an event that, until today, I've never been completely certain I'd get to.
What happened today? Gary sent me my training schedule for my "long rides" for the remainder of my training period. I reproduce them here:
aug 21: 55 with hills.
aug 28: 60 with hills
sept 04: 65 with hills
sept 11: 70 with speed.
sept 18: 75 with speed.
sept 25: 80 endurance
oct 02: 70 easy
oct 09: 90 endurance
oct 16: 75 easy
oct 22: 100 endurance
oct 30: 75 easy
nov 06: 110 endurance, dress rehearsal.,
nov 13: 50 easy
nov 19: 109 event
Those are miles, people. And now it's real. Now I know I'm going to Tucson.
Allow me to put this in perspective. Last year I tipped the scales at 168 lbs. (I'm 5' 9") I suffer from asthma (mild and occasional) and allergies (severe and frequent). I severed my achilles tendon in 1987 and it's never healed properly. I've never been remote athletic or physically graceful in any way. Today, I weigh 152 lbs and have already completed more than one 65 mile ride, as well as a Category 2 climb up Latigo Canyon in Malibu. I also just completed a 23:30 time trial up Mandeville Canyon in Brentwood.
(The time trial was another turning point. The road is a five mile ride that's a 4% grade for the first 4.5 miles - that means that for every 100 feet the road rises four feet - and then the last half mile suddenly spikes through a 6-8% grade. Remember, before April I'd never been on a road bike. Gary estimated a 25-26 minute time, which I bested by a minute and a half - though I was probably showing off for GOTEV who was following in her car. And my time falls in the same range of riders who have been doing this for years and years.)
So what happened? A few things. I turned 40, with all the cliched reevaluation that entails. And I also didn't want to be one of those sedentary overweight writers who dies of a heart attack at 50. But there's something more, I think.
I mentioned that I'd return to the subject of Gary. And I'm going to blog about him in greater depth in future entries - it's a dicey area for me given that my admiration for him borders on idolatry (my friends mock me for being part of The Cult of Gary); I want to be able to convey the abiding impact he's had on my life without lapsing into gushing and hyperbole. That's going to take a little doing.
What I can tell you today is that he's the kind of coach for whom the words "good enough" do not exist. He's not everyone's cup of tea - he's alienated folks and isn't exactly known for his warm fuzzies. But I've never responded to kind and gentle, anway. Perhaps it's my whole Mitteleuropa thing but I prefer toughness, and Gary's great enduring gift to me - and to many others - is his ability to help you "stick your face in it." If you're willing to dig in even when it starts to hurt - especially when it starts to hurt - you'll learn a great deal about yourself.
Gary talks a lot about character. About finding out how we respond to adversity. This is the dimension I am most drawn to, most interested in - what happens in that no-man's land, when the start is long behind you but you can't visualize the finish yet. That's where it becomes about inner reserves, and about depth of character. He told me early on that at the start of training for an event, he asks his clients why. Why are you doing this? Why is this important? And the clearer the answer, the stronger the result. I thought about it for a few days and then I gave him my answer:
Because every success I've ever had has come easily.
Because when it gets hard or bumpy or painful, I back off.
Because I want to know what I can do when I dig in and don't rely on natural gifts.
When I started thinking about Tucson back in March it seemed awfully far away. It's staggeringly close now. And I don't just want to finish - I could probably do that today. I want to finish strong. I have an aggressive time goal in mind but I'm not ready to publicize it here until Gary signs off on it. In the meantime, I will be keeping a journal of my training as Tucson gets closer. The entries - which will be headlined "TdT LOG" - will appear on weekends so as not to interfere with the literary news of the day and will be modestly hidden behind jumps. But I hope you'll check back and perhaps something in here will inspire you to think about your own training, your diet, your lifestyle or - best of all - your character.
Now I just have to decide whether to shave my legs ...
"This is the dimension I am most drawn to, most interested in - what happens in that no-man's land, when the start is long behind you but you can't visualize the finish yet."
It strikes me, as I'm sure it's struck you, what a parallel there is here to novel-writing.
Posted by: CAAF | August 19, 2005 at 12:48 PM
Damn, that's an impressive schedule. Are you using clipless pedals?
How did Gary become your coach?
Posted by: mapletree7 | August 21, 2005 at 06:44 PM
Go for the shaved legs. My brother-in-law does many triathalons with my sister and he has been shaving his legs for at least a year. They look great and I think he feels he is saving a 1/100th of a second in the water when he swims. As a swimmer myself, I used to shave my arms and legs both (not that I'm that hairy) Point being, every little bit helps!
Good for you Mark! Keep up the hard work. It does say a lot about someone when it comes to physical endurance and will.
Let your rides speak for you!:)
Posted by: angela | August 22, 2005 at 12:49 PM
CAAF - dead on. And that's EXACTLY where I am, bookwise ... no man's land.
Mapletree, yes clipless. I'm set up with Look hardware on my bike, which matches the spinners at the studio.
And Angela, I'm definitely leaning towards ... ;)
Posted by: TEV | August 22, 2005 at 04:57 PM
You're one tough BASTARD! I don't know how you do it but keep it up! See you at spin!
JP
Posted by: Jamie Paredes | September 23, 2005 at 12:13 PM
Can riding in the nude increase your time?
Posted by: Jamie Paredes | February 02, 2006 at 06:36 AM
Can riding in the nude increase your time?
Posted by: Jamie Paredes | February 02, 2006 at 06:37 AM