ARE YOU READY TO TAKE INDOOR CYCLING TO THE NEXT LEVEL?
If you've ever wondered about becoming an indoor cycling instructor - or
just to become much more knowledgeable about indoor cycling, here's an
opportunity for you.
Spinning Master Instructor Lisa Mona will be holding a one-day Spinning
(r) certification in Waterloo, Iowa on February 1st. The intense
training begins at 8:00am and ends at 5:00pm. The day's work will
qualify you to test to become a certified Spinning Instructor. It's the
first step toward teaching if that is your goal, but it's also a great
learning experience on its own.
Go to www.spinning.com for more information, or to register. Drop me a line if you have questions.
GOALS AND ACCOMPLISHMENT: A LOOK INSIDE LONG DISTANCE BIKE RACING.
Editors Note: As many of my cycling students know, I
was a long distance bike racer a long time ago. That experience still
informs much of what I teach today, especially about the power of the
mind over the body. Recently, Annie found an old essay I had written
about one of those races - a hilly, non-stop 275 mile race from St.
Louis to Kansas City. I've decided to share it with you here.
This is a time of year that many of you are deciding on goals and plans
for the new year. I hope this article may give you some encouragement.
It is meant as an invitation for you to talk with me about your goals
and what it will take to reach them - no matter what they may be. One
of my current goals is to help others reach theirs.
"What Am I Doing Here?"
It is a starless night on a hilly, desolate road in the Missouri Ozarks.
It's midnight and I've been riding my bike almost continuously since we
left St. Louis at 6:30 that morning. I'm afraid that two riders behind
are gaining on me and may pass me as we enter the final miles into
Kansas City. I've never been more tired, nor more alive.
It's all about needing a new challenge. The time had come in my life
that I needed to find a new way to challenge myself. I turned to
bicycling and learned an unexpected lesson about how much was possible
in life.
It's hard to say where a dream begins. It takes seed somewhere in you
and takes hold of you with a surprising tenacity. It rules you,
dictating early mornings of hard interval-training, requiring strict
adherence to a daily routine of diet, stretching, rest and massage. I
even tried motivation tapes - something that otherwise seemed out of
character.
But the dream is transforming. It teaches that everything is possible.
I was the kid who never wanted to go to gym class. But on this day, I
felt strong. I awoke without an alarm and immediately drank the bottle
of carbohydrate drink I left in a cooler beside my bed. I downed several
Advil to ward off the aches and pains to come. After rubbing a handful
of "udder balm" into my racing shorts to ease the chafing, I was ready
to face the day.
Facing race day, I felt anxious and serene. The anxiousness was the
natural result of adrenalin. The serenity because I knew I was as
prepared as I could be. The question was how good was my preparation and
how committed was I to accepting the pain that was coming. I walked out
to the hotel parking lot with my support crew and we reviewed our check
list of final bicycle and vehicle preparations.
I'd done several of these events before. I'd ridden as a support rider
pacing local ultra-marathon racer Bob Breedlove during his double
transcontinental record. I had also finished a 24 hour timed race in a
distance exceeding 325 miles - good enough to allow me to consider this
race.
But this race was different than the previous ones. It was designed to
copy the legendary French race Paris-Breast-Paris with mile after mile
of steep climbing through the Missouri Ozarks. The organizers proudly
said that 30 miles of the 275 mile race are actually flat. While some
would doubt the sanity of doing this at all, my doubts were if I
belonged here in the company of these real athletes. Would they find out
I was a pretender?
These races always start fast - too much ego fueled by too much
adrenaline. The result was that even the strongest riders often go out
to big leads and then gradually fade as the day lengthens. I sat back
and watched not so much out of wisdom but out of apprehension. Some
riders rode up the first steep hills at a furious pace.
I questioned my plan but stuck with it. Easy up the hills, steady and smooth in the middle of the pack.
Riding along in these groups - especially in the early hours when
everyone is still bunched together and minds are still fresh - the
conversation ranges from the obvious ("How do you like that bike.") to
the unexpected ("Oh, you're from Des Moines too. Why haven't we met."
).
As the race progresses, riders often find themselves riding alone,
starved for information about their opponents placing or condition. But
in these first hours, everyone is in sight and everyone is talkative.
This is a great sport because of its psychological complexity. Your
riding partners are both your allies and your opponents - vital
companions sharing wind protection, food or encouragement as well as the
people you hope to wear down over the length of the day. Everyone has
their own reason for being there and everyone respects each others
private agenda. Still, there is competition to see who is strongest,
fastest, best-prepared.
Riding along in the pack, I am just finding a rhythm when we turn onto a
very old pot-holed state highway and one of my expensive racing tires
goes "pop".
Several riders in the group ask me if I have what is needed to make the
change (the courtesy of the race) but they do not offer to help (the
competition.) I watch the entire field of 42 riders pass me as I stand
along the road fumbling with the unwieldy tire. The race rules don't
allow support vehicles for the first 60 miles as a safety measure so my
support crew is ahead of me, waiting in the next town. I could almost
cry.
My support crew consists of my wife, Annie, and friend, Alan Bergman. I
will always be grateful to them for doing this. I'd written a manual of
instructions with detailed explanations of how to keep me fed, supplied
and happy throughout the day. Annie drove a mini-van loaded with high-
carbohydrate energy drinks, lights, extra clothing and spare bike parts.
Alan split his time between the van and riding alongside me to give me
encouragement.
They look concerned as I race up to them - dead last in the race. I
exchange the flat tire for a fresh spare, grab a fresh water bottle and
desperately race out of town.
Riding alone now, I begin to question why I am here. But gradually, I
begin to pass people. A few are overtaken on their bicycles, others are
alongside the road resting. I vow to allow myself no more than a ten
minute rest every few hours. I may not be fast enough to catch up but if
I stay on my bike longer than the others I can at least finish ahead of
those who succumb to the seductive desire to rest.
Riding alone now, heat is becoming a factor. I am grateful to have made
such a big effort to stay properly hydrated. I can see the effects of
dehydration as I pass riders who looked so strong not long ago. I begin
to feel grateful for my strategy of staying on the bike. I am, by now,
even grateful for my flat tire because it puts me in the psychologically
preferable position of being able to pass people rather than being
passed.
So it is midnight. It hurts to sit and it hurts to stand. The coolness
of night has replaced a very hot Missouri summer day and lightning
occasionally cracks in the distance. My speed has dropped to 13-14mph
and my sense of time and space is totally distorted. Alan is riding
beside me now and I just focus on matching his pace. We have mounted
speakers on the van’s bike rack and Annie has the stereo turned up full
blast in hopes of keeping me alert. I can't hear it. I can't feel
anything anymore except an overwhelming fatigue - and a fear of the two
riders I'm told are not far behind us.
We finish the last long stretch and come to the last major turn on the
route. We turn left and begin the last three miles into the Kansas City
suburb.
Suddenly Annie pulls the car alongside. "I see flashing lights behind
us", she reports. It can only mean one thing - another riders support
vehicle churning along behind us in the near-total darkness - but now
only as little as a half-mile behind us.
My mind screams, my muscles scream, but we pick up the pace. Annie tells
me the light is not yet gaining on us. We continue to push through the
night. The city limit sign. Now we're sprinting through the streets of
this darkened town looking for the High School that marks the finish
line. Despite my panic, I remember to come to a full stop at a stop sign
- not stopping could mean a time penalty that could cost me my place in
a close race.
Finally, the high school is ahead. It look like every 1950's high school
ever built - three stories of red brick with wide concrete steps. I
reach the steps and run up them in my awkward cycling shoes yelling my
name and race number in desperate fear that my nemesis will appear out
of nowhere.
Then it is over. The official takes my hand and helps me sign in. I am
second. I finished at 1:07am in 18 hours and 37 minutes for an average
speed of 15mph including stops. The first place rider arrived well
before, but I am second. Volunteers show me the way to the high school
locker room for a shower and a sandwich. I wait... and wait and still
don't see my pursuers.
We decide to start the drive home in the night and as we leave town we
pass the intersection where we had turned. Hanging over it is a
suspended flashing light warning motorists to stop. My pursuers were
imaginary.
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COME ENJOY ONE OF THESE WEEKLY CLASSES!
Monday's - Cycling for Neuro Wellness 1:15pm - 2:00pm
YMCA Healthy Living Center
12493 University Avenue, Clive, Iowa.
Monday's - Cycling 4:30pm - 5:15pm
YMCA Healthy Living Center
12493 University Avenue, Clive, Iowa.
Monday's - Cycling 5:45pm - 6:30pm
YMCA Healthy Living Center
12493 University Avenue, Clive, Iowa.
Thursday's - Cycling 9:30am - 10:20am
Waukee Family YMCA
210 N. Warrior Lane, Waukee, Iowa.
Saturday's - Cycling 8:15am - 9:15am
Waukee Family YMCA
210 N. Warrior Lane, Waukee, Iowa.
First Saturday of Each Month - Lactate Threshold Field Testing for Training Zones
10:30am - 11:30am
Walnut Creek Family YMCA
948 73rd Street Windsor Heights
($10 members, $20 non-members per advance registration at any "Welcome Desk")
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