My Friend, Pain

"Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”
- Lance Armstrong


It’s funny, really, what draws me to cycling. Despite all the thrilling and adrenaline pumping aspects of the sport, it is the hardships of cycling that attract me the most. For example, during the work week, when I am doing my cross training and anticipating my next weekend ride, I am not thinking about the views of the bay, or the people I'll meet. I don't imagine the forest rides accompanied by the fresh smell of Eucalyptus, Red Wood and Pine. I don't even consider the harrowing, thrilling, 40 to 50 mph descents into the valley. Instead, I think of the climbs. I think of the long, hard ascents when my will's rubber band is stretched to the maximum; when every fiber of my body is screaming at me to stop. It is at that time I'm left with a choice: I can back off and rest or I can press forward and work harder, forcing my body to function despite the suffering and anguish.

Now, I'm not talking about pain resulting from physical injury- that is another beast all together. I am not encouraging cyclists to outright ignore physical pain. It sounds cliché, but one must learn to listen to his/her body. Instead, the pain I speak of is when you have exceeded your V02 max or have far surpassed your lactate threshold. Either your body can't distribute enough oxygen into your blood stream, or the lactic acid in your quads and hamstrings have accumulated to the point that your muscles start to cramp, shooting sharp pains up and down your legs. The pain is so intense it can bring tears to your eyes. Your muscles are like squeezed lemons: drained and empty.

But with this hardship comes opportunity. It is at this moment a person has the chance to test one's core character and mental strength. Its a little crash course in 'self-knowledge,' per se. You'll find out how much will power you possess, and how mentally disciplined you are to tune out the pain and focus on the mission at hand. Many questions are answered in these times of prolonged physical suffering. How far are you willing to push yourself? How long will your body go before it absolutely slams on the breaks? What are your physical limitations? What exactly are you made of: bon bons and lace? Or, do you have a bit more substance down there in that soul of yours? The Russian born, high-altitude Mountaineer, Anatoli Boukreev describes it this way: "Men and women are judged not for what they have or where they come from, but who they are in hard circumstances."

It is an opportunity for self definition doesn't come easily. This opportunity doesn't present itself while lounging in front of the TV eating Ben and Jerrys. You can't order it from a drive-thru. Rather, it comes after many hours and miles of riding. It comes with a certain level of commitment. You have spent long periods of time on the saddle, demanding your body to continually produce, neglecting it from rest and relaxation. Fatigue begins building up. Your body is starved of the necessary fluids and fuel and rest that are needed to operate and function naturally and comfortably. 'Comfortable' is the operative word here. It is an opposite of pain. It is the opposite of what you are doing and pursuing. Welcome to the pain game, my friend.

The 73 Mile Experiment

I’ve signed up to ride this year’s Grizzly Peaks Metric Century. It is an east bay ride that winds up and around the Oakland/Berkeley Hills, San Pablo Reservoir and Franklin Canyon. It is fantastically organized. And they topped it off with an incredible lunch of grilled chicken, eggplant, couscous, roasted vegetables and freezers stuffed with ice cream. Unfortunately, lunch will be the easiest part of the day.

The experiment is to see whether or not I’ll be sufficiently prepared to ride hard and at a fast pace when it comes down to game day. How much pain will my body be able to endure before it starts putting on the brakes? There is no question I can do it. 73 miles and 5700 feet of climbing is palatable enough. The question is how well will I do it? Will I be able to produce? Will my body give me everything I ask of it, or will it resist and ultimately give me the smack-down? Oh, Lordy!

If you were going to start preparing for a long ride, say 100 miles, most textbooks would put you on a training schedule where you would peak 2 weeks prior to event day. Unfortunately, due to an ill-timed 3 week vacation (I use the word “ill-timed” very loosely), I’ll be peaking 4 weeks prior to event day.

Though several of those weeks will include their fair share of over-indulgence and excess, I do plan to continue some sort of a workout program. For one, I’ll keep up my swimming and yoga. I’ll also throw in a few strenuous runs just for fun. To cap it off, I’ll be enduring a 12 hour, 6000 feet hike up Nicaragua’s largest volcano, San Cristobal. That should be hard, and fun.

Besides the healthy portions of double battered fried chicken, pulled pork and Nicaraguan rum, the time off my bike is what concerns me the most. Sure I’ll be able to maintain my current level of fitness, but nothing gets you more prepared for riding than riding itself. Forget muscles, it’s about getting your body used to a crouched position for 5 or 6 hours. Fortunately, on race day, I won’t be riding on streets maintained by the City of San Francisco, so my body should enjoy a break from having to suffer through broken asphalt, sink holes and 4 inch pot holes. That will make life a little easier.

So, if we happen to cross paths on that fateful day and you happen to see my face knitted in grimace and pain, it’s a good chance this little experiment failed. If it is a success, there is a good chance you won’t see me at all.

I’ll check back in. Keep in touch.