When I got back from Target on Saturday evening (I needed an Alarm clock, and heck, it's target... you don't need a reason to go to Target) I sat down with my couple bottles of Dr. Pepper Red Fusion, a nice pencil and those composition journals that look so cool and just sat down and wrote. It was really kind of therapeutic. You don't always get a chance to just sit down and spill with no one bothering you at all. After a while, I went out to get some water or something, and got directed out to the front steps where there some roadies playing guitar. Earlier, I had seen a guy wearing an Iroman cap, but I didn't get a chance to talk to him. He was out on the steps, so I kind of saddled up to him so that I could ask him about his cap. He gave me good fodder for cud chewing, I guess. He'd done three Ironman Tris (Canada twice and Florida) and reassured me that I wouldn't need to worry about the swim. "Keep telling yourself it's the smallest part of the race" he kept saying. I believe him, and I really want to think that way, but there are still pieces that wonder.
Tonight after an extra long day at work, I drove down to the beach because I REALLY needed to destress a little bit and get some form of a workout in. After about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to zip myself up in my wetsuit, I finally ventured out into the water. Tonight the water had a bit of a chill to it. I'm not sure why. I headed out, and it still felt extremely nice to float with the wetsuit. I didn't stay long though. By the time I got into the water, the sun was setting and I had very little daylight left. I just don't know about my stroke. Anytime I try to really focus on swimming freestyle, I get dizzy. I just wonder how off it's going to look if I'm swimming sidestroke during competition.
Back to Sunday though. Sunday morning brought with it an alarm that went off 15 minutes earlier than I thought it was. (I set the clock as best I could). I ambled up and got over to the cafeteria to get some food into my system.
I was kind of happy with my bike after getting it back in one piece on Saturday. I was even thinking, "y'know, maybe we have this spoke issue licked." I slowly mounted up, checking everything and headed out by myself. At the first light, I was a little confused by the directions and some riders from the Gopher Wheelmen came up to me. They didn't say anything, but I kind of dropped in behind them since we were all with the same group, and kind of had this little smile on my face. I've always thought the Gopher Wheelmen were pretty cool, even though I didn't know much about them besides they ride really hard. These guys did. I kept up as best I could, but we averaged close to 20mph over the first hour. When it comes to the hills, I guess I just have a bit much weight, and not a small enough gearing. Someday, someday. Anyway, I watched them vanish off into the distance, and kept chugging along.
I saw this guy somewhere on the other side of the first rest stop. I hit the first hill as hard as I could and got to the top in some semblance of one piece. I wasn't built for hills, and I struggled with them all weekend. I'm hoping Madison hills are shorter. I'll find out this weekend. I might go 200 miles on them this weekend. At least that's how I'm leaning. I missed my double century this year, and I don't think it would be bad to do one on the area I'll be racing on. We'll see.
Anyway, when we got to the top of the hill (there was a guy on recumbent who I rode along with for awhile) a Russian lady on a motorcycle pulled up asking where the nearest gas station was. It was such a hoot. You just don't expect to see what turned into an entire group of motorcyclist russians in the middle of southern minnesota. We gave them directions as best we could and got going again. About 5 miles up the road, we found the truckstup we only hypothesized existed and there were about 100 bikers outside. It was rather humorous looking at the dichotomy between the spandex clad road-bikers on their aluminum and steel liteweight bikes, and the leather-clothed greasy bikers jabbering away amongst themselves.
Somewhere on the way back to Winona, at the top of an extra long hill (about 2 miles) I hit rumble strips. Rumble strips should just be completely outlawed. I don't think it was the sole cause, but I'm sure that the highway slowing devices aided in what happened next. I paused for a second to catch my breath and swig some gatorade and I heard the familiar "Clink" that I've learned to dred. I look, and sure enough i've broken another spoke. I start to walk my bike for a little while and ask anyone I see bike by if they have a spoke-wrench. No one does until this black-guy I met the day before ambles up.
When I pulled into the lunch rest-stop on Saturday, there was this guy sitting and having his sandwich. There weren't many people around and there was a spot near the table so I went and had a seat. He was talking about folding bicycles and I sat and listened, kinda interested in what he had to say. I asked a couple questions and just kind of kept munching away at my lunch. I couldn't understand it, but this guy started taking little potshots at me being somewhat lesser of an athlete than he was because I had a little extra weight. I think I may have brought it on myself because I talked about going out for another workout after we got back from the ride (he was heading for a nap) and it started a trend all weekend where he'd find little things to nitpick about.
At dinner that night, I bumped into him again. Not entirely on purpose. They were doing some giveaways and I walked over to the side of the park building so I could hear if my name was called. "jerry" was came up to the side just after I did, and the next round of belittlement kind of started. We were talking about swimming and he talked about how he was a 'non floater'. that swimming wasn't worth it because he just had to exert too much effort to float. I tried to mention the Total Immersion stuff that I've been soaking up, but it didn't work. I mentioned that I had trouble floating and that it had taken a lot of work, and he asked why someone like me would have trouble floating. I'm just not that FAT! Most floating in the water has nothing to do with Fat. It has everything to do with form, and it really sucked that I was kind of singled out and told that A) I'm fat. and B) You're too young to know anything of use
I just don't like not having my opinions heard. I especially don't like them getting smacked down, so it was with reluctance that I asked Jerry for a spoke wrench. Asking for the spoke wrench got us off into this entirely seperate tangent about why I was just too heavy to buy any liteweight racing gear and that I just hadn't worked hard enough to lose weight and that not having lost weight was most definitely my fault. No excuses from Jerry. Everything is always my fault. ERGH! I was so frustrated. He even went off on me about being mad that my bike was breaking down again, telling me that Spokes break. Spokes however DON'T break 4 times in 300 miles (or at least they shouldn't) When we got to the next rest stop I ditched this guy as best as I could.
Looking over to the side after having snapped this cute 9 day old baby cow picture (below)
I noticed that there was a mechanic. Rawk! I can get my bike fixed! He loads my bike up and gets working on replacing the spoke. He also figured out what was going wrong with my front tire. None of the nipples in front were lubed, so the spokes through tension were unscrewing themselves. Kind of an unexpected and frustrating thing. He tightens eveything up and I'm able to get back on the road.
I thought that I'd have a lot more energy for the last 7 miles, but I misjudged. No energy for me!
I was able to hit 45 mph on the hill coming out of the rest stop, but I was really dead for the rest of the ride... AND my cycle computer broke again. Muy Muy Muy Frustrating.
Anyway, I finally made it back to Winona State, got checked out as quickly as I could and headed back to the cities. I got a bunch of people together on Sunday night, partially for the morale boost (That Jerry guys comments stuck a little too much) and they helpd quite a bit. It's nice to have friends that will tell you what you need to hear sometimes.
More later.
Brian
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