Training, Yes

So many years of training, all 14 years of using my body to make bikes go fast in varying degrees of speed, time and success. At some stages I have calculated the percentage of my life I have spent on a bike, most its lots, some days it competes well with sleeping. Other days the sleeping is dismissed for more riding in the strange concept of racing that is 24 hour solo’ing.

All madness, all this time and all this worry about the right training. I do love been fit and fast on the bike and I lack not race competitiveness, but there are real worlds out there that hammer on the door when training life is turned on.

Hard things like getting enough sleep, cured by more coffee. Having enough money, resolved by working more. Having enough time to train, solved sleeping less and work less and drinking more coffee.

I have two coaches during the years and they both helped. My last one Andrew Patterson drove a disciplined precise raceme that brought great results and gave me new insight into training with power.

This year is another big race

year and its close again in Canberra. And the balances have shifted slightly since the last times. I now have gainful employment as a self employed person, harbour a caffeine attraction (unrelated) and have no coach.

Yet it’s not all lost. I have few bikes and the will to train and ride. Knowing how my body works after many directed and undirected years has fooled me to believing I know what I am in for.

One of the biggest balance factors is the physical nature of my working life. This has added a great deal to my overall strength and stability on long rides. But it does take away my energy to train during the week and leading up to races. I am not sure that anyone would have good rule to follow here apart from don’t overdo and don’t get injured.

A real asset is my power metered road bike. This coupled with a good deal of experience with it measured accurate sessions are easier. It is also the ‘road bike’ is a grant abrogation of all things pure and neat about road bikes. From 28c tires and mud guards to a power tap and a set of aero bars the machine is focused on only been an ace training device.

So I bound on into the depths of training depravity and it’s acutely quite nice. Long slogs in the raining around the Eastbourne coast to Wainuiomata. The constant madding tirades with thick arrogant drivers. Sideways looks from slicked up roady’s on the latest fad wheels. And loads of time within my head, speaking aloud to no one interrupted sporadically by the odd Katy Perry pop track.

24 Things That Make No Sense

There are no bounds to the length of depravity that we will go for a thrill. Luckily the world is littered with sure bountiful opportunities. In some places at some times other even create set out thrills for others to join and participate in. this can be known as an event.

After many simper events one can grow accustomed to the burn of it all and a new challenge is required. The variation is wide from trickier, more dangers, more stupid or just longer. As the general participants meet the challengers new ones are created. And on and on till you reach something of barrier of human spirit. An event that so completely drains you of will and going further can make participants cry.

So after many 24 hour solo mountain bike races and tears I am just dying to get back into the seat groove of grovel.

This time though I have the bikes, two mighty carbon Santa Cruz’s. And one soon to be red eyed mechanic who we will know as Owen. So physical prep is as good as it gets. Training wise I have been off a bit because my focus lies much further into this year. But I will be falling back on many years of abusing my body in strange ways to get though.

A recent ride home from New Plymouth went pretty well. The only set back been a ride ending puncture thanks to plate glass on highway 1 just north of Waikanae. So this weekend is a big test session for the fitness.

Who knows how things will go, as many have said ‘people in glass houses should be in Rome.’ Skids will be done and my biggest concern is that they might tape off the jumps on Old Chev.  

A Few Short Things

There was a moment somewhere on the Hutt river trail, on Sunday, as a dropped into another sharp gravel corner where in considered whether I should perhaps be on a more appropriate bike. Now my ‘road bike’ sits in the bike room coated in mud with another 200km on the clock. Later in the ride I rode up a nice climb in the sun with a man on a bike half the weight of mine.

Many a time I have tried to describe what it’s like to ride a bike for lengths of time longer than most people sleep at night. And I guess I enjoy it, all fucked up out where unable to speak clearly and lacking basic motor function. Things get real bent, a sort of withdrawal. I think I leave parts of myself out there, ridden into the roads and tracks between places where others travel too. Those no name locations that I hinge memories of times, states.

And I miss losing my sense and grinding myself into the paste you might find between your sprockets. So Sunday came around and despite the northerly gale I followed though with a near 8 hour stint aboard my ‘roady’ called Bernard. Taking in every off road opportunity too and over the Blue mountains, Akatarawa's and Makara. Just shy of 200km I was not ashamed to be a bit uncomfortable grinding up though central park on the way home.

But so often that I have done these things to myself my body is harder shock. It’s become resilient to abuse, to a point of course. Where it just gets injured and makes me mad. So yes I did get a bit lost and bent but not as much as I am use too, maybe a little disappointing really.

In more understandable news I have a new steed, the Santa Cruz Highball, a wonderful entry into the carbon mountain bike world. From building it up it’s hard to grasp how much this frame will take compared to its weight, which is next to nothing. After a few adjustments I've been enjoy the fine times of light hard-tail riding including three local races finishing in the top two.

With a slightly more trail/aggressive geometry set up compared with other XC based 29’er bikes I've ridden it really shows class on the way down. Coupled with the directness and weight of a hard-tail carbon bike it also climbs like a minx. It’s been quite some time since I raced a hard-tail and its bloody good time. Fully's are still dam sweet but there is something more honest about a hard-tail that gets soaked up in the rear end of a fully and beaten out by a rigid. 

Yes

Creeping into my thighs is the acid that comes on after 4 hours of salivating over the bent bars. Oh I do love that soft ache of the second half of big rides, pushing though the gentile sting as you stand up into the next climb. The feeling of progress, gain though nice achy pain and will no doubt cause some wicked cramps that will have to be fought though in bed that night.

Joys of training, great stuff, yes I am getting well into the longer rides and the yay times of making my bar tape turn from light pink to off grey, or something. Into the times of chewing though chains, tires, spear time, frames and brain cells. It’s a place I’ve had a break from and I've missed it and all its qwerks and beauty.

One of the joys is getting away and into back roads or the real back blocks on the rigid single speed. Vistas and quiet like nothing achievable even in sleep at home. Well until the phone rings. 

Much Love

Two coffees down and winging around the bay talking the smack. Having been though the frozen valleys out of the morning sun I was grateful to have the use of my hands again. The south Alps nicely placed in the distance with lovely cold snow from the past few days. I was grateful that it was not cold and raining as I had been then. The drag out of bed away from comfort had been worth all the inconvenience. A lovely morning spinning the cranks over the grey mass making life a little more inconvenient for motorists and in the eyes of the authorities waiting to die for it. Cherry waves into back windows as their brains steam at our merry riding pleasure obeying rules and been heckled relentlessly. Hey thanks everyone for been so tolerant and not killing me as I deserve, I’ll blow you a kiss next time. 

Fresh new ripe good

Long is the stretch of time since my last 24 hour solo race. It was Worlds two years back, and ending in a farcical medically based withdrawal. To forward to the coming year is hope, hope of a race that has given me cruel kindness in the way not to distant from a female pray mantis.

Yes the only real 24 hour race is set to return to the well kempt trails of the Whakawerawera forest. The 24 hours of N-Duro was my first 24 hour solo and where I first won a big race (different years).

Back in Wellington now and settling into the old mate trails with the aid of my now even more modified Sir. Into routines of glorious morning rides starting with a punch of a powerful short black at ‘Tony’s’ and the avoidance glares of clean suits and heavy jackets. Followed by charging rugged tracks careering off the beasty hills. Lungs burning the crisp swept wind then exhaling puffs of steam and hurt. I have also gotten sick and I live in a cold flat.

Not ungratefully reduced to just having the only the rigid single speed running with the weather keeping things nice a slippery and yum. Plentiful merry bronation (lateral wheel movement away from the prearranged direction intent) and the delightful sounds of tacky trail mud as the tires break away from the surface like peeling away day old dressing from some gnarly road rash. Who needs suspension or gears in this weather anyway. Having recently blown out my only two suspension forks, it would seem I don’t deserve this luxury.

So I’m back and it is good. Life outside riding carries on happily at times and grinds by during those ‘work hours’. Thanks Wellington for letting me back into your hills. 

New Playgrounds

It is true, in the town of sun and cycle lanes. Around which are still the signs of the recent flooding. Yes nelson is just fine. It is one of the places that I could have seen myself living in. the allure of job with reasonable monetary return, proximity to vast track networks and a break from the eternal winter that is wellington.

But alas there is the work to be done along with the lethargically state of training associating. A physical job too, requires chunks of sensibility and excuse elimination to make any sort of regular training habit. At a month in things are kicking over but no mad k’s of yet, just all lead up.

After returning from the west island of hopes and heat dreams and madly covered most of the north and south islands, settled up in my home town for a week to ‘sort my shit out’. Mixed results really and the pack up for the drive to Nelson was full of half finished projects that would be easier completed in my parents garage.

A storm hit within the first week in a sunshine capital and living in a campground became less ‘holiday’ like. With this and a 26km ride to work followed by a good hour and half of getting and out of 4wd’s to make it to the work site. Luck rode our way soon after and we made it settled and relieved to be in a flat within 9 days of turning up in this fair city.

Now after a month or more I am beginning to discover this low key riding Mecca. Been still of an age where you can simply pack up a move is advantageous to life excitement. There is Taranaki style back roads a good warm up away and the hills ring long and loud with wild single track.

So far I have ticked off the Mtb Park of codages and the copper mine loop. Both awesome and worthy of the required effort. It’s even got me missing Wellington a little less. Although the coffee fuelled week day morning missions will be sorely missed.