Over the last two months, a new job and lousy weather reduced my biking and running workouts to bimonthly events. During my fitness hiatus, my body has transformed from triathlete to Mr. Stay Puft.
I discovered the severity of my marshmallow physique in the reflection of a car window. The blue and white Pearl Izumi jersey I normally wear on road bike rides accentuated the softness of my shape. Mountain bike jerseys are loose while road bike jerseys are tight and aerodynamic. The last time I wore the blue and white jersey it fit me perfectly because I was training for Ironman Augusta. I no longer train thirty hours a week while eating balanced meals. Now my diet is frappuccinos and thin mints and exercise is an afterthought. Ironman has transformed into the Marshmallow Man.
I began my ride on Mosquito Bite trail at Blanket Creek. The Bite, the beginner area, is the easiest of the trails. The few hills are not technical or steep. In the past, this trail served as my warm up ride. Today however, I used maximum effort to make it to the top of the easy hills. I was breathing harder than expected when I finished the beginner trail.
I rode to the Dwelling loop, a four-mile intermediate trail that I ride all the time. The entrance to the loop is twisting, uphill, root covered with several hills to climb along the way. Early in the ride, I was gasping and the difficult climbs were still ahead of me. I dismounted the bike on two occasions to push it up a hill. Half way up one of the longer climbs my legs were burning; I did not have the strength to continue.
Near the end of the ride, I heard a rider gaining on me. Recalling the primal instinct of survival I attempted to elude my pursuer. I could not escape because I lacked the drive, strength and power to do so. There was nothing I could do to avoid being run down by the speedy and superior rider behind me.
When the rider caught up to me, I surrendered and moved to the right allowing the rider to pass me. The rider did not have the build of a mountain bike racer. Nor did he resemble one of the weekend warriors that ride for hours on Saturday. The rider that bested me looked like Santa Claus in age and appearance.
I rode to the parking lot despondent and depressed. After throwing my bike in the back of my truck, I took out my notebook to record my feelings. I did not want to forget how I felt on this ride. I wrote about the jersey making me look like a chicken potpie, and the difficulty I had riding my bike. I wrote extensively about the jolly old elf making me eat his dust.
I read my notes and promised to make changes: I will exercise frequently, eat healthier and rededicate myself to becoming the Ironman I once trained to be.
I will begin this tomorrow for today I am stopping at Starbucks for a Venti Java Chip Frappuccinio.
This is one of my favorites. And I love the pictures! Send this in!!!