As you all know, I'm going into my 2nd year of doing triathlons. It all started innocently enough. I had just had my last baby and faced the depressig task that all new mother do of losing the baby weight, which for me, unfortunately was quite a lot. Blame what you will, genentics, water retension, eating 4 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches everyday between meals...but the fact remained that I was fat again. So I decided that maybe a little exercise would move things along. So I found an article in a Weight Watchers magazine that outlined a 12 week program to take you from walking to running a 5K. Decided to give it a shot, and then it all snowballed from there.
So here we are a year later. And I'm trying to decide what my athletic goals are for the year. By far, my worst area in triathlon is cycling. Mainly because I have no idea what I'm doing. But I don't like to let minor details like that stop me. As my Uncle Jim always said, "If you don't know the words, just sing louder.". It's kind of a family moto so to speak. Those of you who know me, know that this behavior is indeed genetic. So 2011, cycling it is!
I've been very luck to have Glen's cycling buddies let a clueless beginner like me tag along. They've been exceptionally nice and have not made fun of me too much. One of the guys, Mark, has even started riding with me for parts of the ride and schooling me on various things I probably should know like cadence and gear changing.
Today, we did a 60 mile ride. Let me just tell you that the moral of today's story is that ignorance is bliss because had I know what this ride would entail, I would not never have agreed to such a thing. It started out easy enough with some rolling hills. Then came the climbs. I spun up the 1st two pretty good and was feeling somewhat impressed with myself. Yeah, I'm getting better! But then came more climbs, and more climbs, and more climbs, and...I was getting weary, not to mention pissed off. When exactly was this going to end? Ok. I've had my Rocky moment. Duh, dunt, duuh...Duh, dunt, duuh. Now this road needed to get flat. Becasue I was done with hills.
But apparently the hills were not done with me. In the middle of this torture, Mark notices I'm fading and rides up next to me. "Come on girl, you got this! Big effort. This is the last hill." Really! Really! Okay, okay, yeah right, I got this. So pick up my cadence and do my best to power up it. Only to find...another hill. Grrrr.
Here comes Mark again, " Ok, last one."
"Really? I thought I already did the last one?"
"No, this is it. The last one." What choice do have but to believe him? So I pick up my cadence again and get up the hill. But...you guessed it. It WASN'T the last hill. @#%$!!!!
Now I'm breathing hard and getting mad. I'm giving Mark one word answers as he continues to talk about the infamous "last hill".
"Please stop lying." I say through clenched teeth.
"I'm not lying"
"Yes, you are! You keep saying one more hill and it's not."
"No I didn't. I said one more hill and then a long slow climb."
"Uhuh. And then some more hills after that."
He offered me some encouraging words and then let me finish battling up the hills on my own. Cursing the day I ever decided to try triathlon. The day I decided to focus on cycling. Why did I tell people to push me? I'm challenged enough as it is. This is not a sport for an overweight mom. I should be scapbooking or ordering baby gadgets online or whatever it is normal women my age do.
But then we finally hit the down hill back to the car. And it occurs to me. I just rode 60 miles. I just rode 60 miles! Not bad for an overweight mom of 3. And much cooler than scapbooking (no offense to those of you who scapbook I hear it can be quite the skill to master). Looks like I'll be back out here again. 2011 is, after all, the year of the bike according to my calendar.