Dispatches From The Field 12-18-10

The weather turned bad yesterday (everything is relative). For me, in Las Vegas, bad weather is winds at 25-30, rain and wind chill below freezing. Not real weather, but I can still get outside and work instead of being chained to a trainer, which is why it becomes real weather. I had an "off day" on the schedule yesterday, so I was hopeful, while the weatherman was calling for more of this through the week, maybe I would get lucky and get a break in the weather for my bike ride.

5:00am. I get up and look out the bedroom window into the dark. I can see in the street light across from my house that the road is slick with rain. There has been nothing in training I have backed away from so far...except riding my bike in the rain. The average rainfall in Las Vegas is 4.13 inches and we get an average of 308 sunny days per year, rain is something I just don't have to deal with.

It's something motorists here don't have to deal with either. Vegas is famed for it's poor drivers right along side its slot machines. Because the oil on the road never gets washed away, it comes up the moment you put some water on the asphalt. In short, rainy days are good days to stay off the road here, period.

I sigh and look out the window some more and think about the schedule for the day. Melissa has some things to do this morning, but I should be able to work a ride in-between her schedule. I go back to bed.

11:00am. Melissa is back and I make a break for my bike. I need to get in 30 miles and am scheduled by Coach Cyndee to get it done in 1:45:00. I fudge to 2:00:00, knowing she has an inflated sense of my abilities. It's either that or she knows that I am a stubborn, driven personality. If she says 1:45:00, I will kill myself to make it in 1:45:00. I have been afraid to ask her if it is an inflated sense of my ability or a carrot on the stick for me; it would take some of the fun out of it.

I step out of the garage with my bike and the weather is not good. The street is dry, but that is because the wind is blowing 25-30mph. The clouds are dark and looking across the valley, I can see patches of rain coming down in various places. Clouds are darkest in the west, I need to hustle.

Starting out, I have bundled up like Randy from A Christmas Story; I'm crawling along. I make it the first three miles before I stop and reorganize the clothing situation. A little better, but now I'm cold: I resolve to peddle faster.

11 miles - decision time. My regular route takes me past the M Resort at this point. I have 3 choices: south continues the climb from St. Rose Parkway up the Old Vegas Highway out to Jean (50+ miles), west takes me through Southern Highlands and gives me several options on mileage (how far do I want to go?); and north takes me down the Las Vegas Strip making a loop back to the house (20 miles). I look at the sky; west and north the cloud cover is ugly, south looks better but is uphill and straight into the wind. I take a deep breath and go south.

I tried boxing for one summer (one of my many failed attempts to lose weight). The wind immediately feels like a tired heavyweight is leaning on me. I'm grateful the jabs to the ribs and face are missing. I grind up the hill, focusing on not stomping the peddles. The wind cuts me to the bone. I start talking to myself. I am rider, cheerleader and disciplinarian all rolled into one. I begin to curse my decision to go south.

Sloan is supposed to be a town, but the only thing there is the CEMEX plant. I usually make it here in about an hour. You can see the tower from down the road as you work your way up the hill. Push, push, push... I feel like I am riding Stage 16 of the Giro d'Italia - St. Vigil to Plan de Corones. I remember literally sitting on the edge of the couch watching the pros crawl up that course with grades up to 24%. I'm nowhere close to that, the grade is probably only about 4% for me, but the wind is relentless. I'm wiping tears from behind my glasses. I just want to turn around. The last 400 meters to the plant seem to take forever.

I get there and look at my watch: 1:25:00. I put my head down for a second. I am crawling and I still have probably another 4 miles to go up the hill and into this wind. I find solace in the thought that I get to turn around and come back down this hill with the wind at my back. At least I haven't been caught by the rain.

As I crest the hill and push over I ride a little farther, finding a landmark for my turnaround. This is the farthest I have ridden up this road in years, with my longer rides going to other parts of the valley; I will make it out to Jean sometime soon. Looking down at my Garmin, I see I am close to 19 miles. Coach is going to be mad, I will be over goal today. Junk miles always get me in trouble. I start to push for home.

Strangely, I feel good on the way back. I have noticed that my recovery is getting quicker and my body is able to bounce back more on the fly. I spin trying to get my cadence up. Supposed to be at an 80 average and I'm always closer to 75rpm. My lungs start to burn again.

Eventually I get home. Goal was 30 miles in 1:45:00 with two sets of 10 min hard effort. I crawl in at 35.17 miles in 2:21:23. Strangely, I'm satisfied with myself. I had a decent effort on the way back and I didn't quit. I hope the weather turns for the coming days.