Trouble and shit, small and big climbs

It amazes me how he does this with his little paws, folding the corners over neatly in a concentrated effort, taking great care to cover up properly and making a cute little parcel, wrapping his poo into our bathroom mat. I knew immediately, when I walked into the bathroom, what kind of present awaited me inside the crunched up fabric on the floor. He is such a gentle cat. So while Trouble relapsed and even went one step further with his number two, I listened to Dad and Alberto and went out for training rides - yes training rides! - on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

The legs were so fresh after my involuntary taper that I even posted a few new best times, at Mt Coot-tha, Clear Mountain and my good old nemesis, a 900 meter incline of 8-9% on Eaton's Crossing Road.

The start of the 2.3 km Mt Coot-tha climb

The best thing was that I had a ball. I loved attacking the hills, enjoyed going hard and pushing the pace, was keen to pedal and got great pleasure from the view on the top of Clear Mountain and while I was standing there, soaking in the view over the Brisbane and Lake Samsonvale, legs still burning from the 14% gradient, heart still pounding from the effort, I knew I wanted to ride Mt Hotham again.

View from Clear Mountain with Lake Samsonvale

I remembered the challenge Colin put to me a few weeks ago about writing down how I commit myself to ride Mt Hotham. While I was cycling back home via the quiet, undulating and rural Bunya Road I started thinking about the post.

It will be a worthwhile exercise and I started jotting my thoughts down today but right now I need to get some sleep so please stay tuned for my commitment shortly.

Sometimes I hate Joe Friel!

Obviously, I don't hate Mr Friel. Not as a person anyway but as a personification of training pressure and training frustration. Did you read his post on peak performance predictors? I read it sometime last week in that frame of mind ... you know which one, right?

I believe his post would have motivated me at a different time with a different mind set but last week it just depressed me. I wanted to give up competitive cycling. For good! Why? Well, if I predicted my performance for the Tour of Bright based on the three questions he posed, I should do the wise thing and just forget about it.

1. Training consistency during the 12 weeks leading up to the A-priority race

It's exactly six weeks till Bright and the past six weeks were marked by virus infections and life just happening and I probably missed more training sessions than I actually completed.

2. Suitability for type of race

I can't climb for shit, never been a climber, never will be one. Climbing is probably my biggest limiter. The Tour of Bright suits my natural abilities like the proverbial pigs that are suited to flying.

3. Hunger

Well, in the past eight days I didn't give a rat's ass (Sorry Alberto!). I rode but didn't train and my heart wasn't in it. There was no fire in my belly, no want to push the limits, no yearning to get on the bike. The hunger was for chocolate, un-refined sugars and baked goods only and not even my new shoes could cheer me up. I read somewhere that sleep deprivation does that to you. So there I was, hanging head, frustrated, tired and emotional and Alberto said: "Let's just go to Bright and have fun!" and it helped a little and then my Dad called and it was kinda psychic because I felt so down and sad and he said "I had to call because I felt you were down and sad" and he told me that crying is sometimes good but sometimes it's not and sometimes it's better to just hold you head high and keep your chin up, chest proud and positive and while talking to him my tears dried and a little smile returned and I loved my Mum and Dad for their wisdom, support and love.

I gained a whole new admiration for those strong people who care for their elderly parents or ill partners. Whatever AMR is telling you, I'm no Florence Nightingale material and Alberto is no difficult patient. Taking care of him is no work at all and he even insists on doing the dishes, can you believe it?

Despite ample of opportunity the cat chose not to pee on the bathroom mat anymore, for two days now already.

It must be time for me to snap out of this and move on, too.

Reassess. Refocus.

Five days since that phone call and I am slowly emerging from my daze.

Even the cat was distraught. We are settling into a rhythm now. The bathroom mat gets washed in the mornings, hung outside in the sun during the day and put back on the bathroom floor in the evening. It doesn't matter how careful we are, keeping the bathroom door closed. He somehow manages to sneak in and leaves another smelly example of how disturbing Alberto's neck brace is to him. Today I decided to stop playing the game and we have no bathroom mat for now.

I found him sitting and starring at Alberto’s face the other morning, not scared, more stunned. I wonder what was going through his little head. Alberto had finally found a restful position in the armchair and had nodded off for a couple of hours, completely oblivious to the cat's presence. Have I mentioned that Trouble adores Alberto?

Cycling hasn't been on my mind since that phone call. The focus has shifted, priorities changed and the Tour of Bright, on the forefront of all my living, eating and breathing before - is now irrelevant.

There is no urge to ride my bike. It’s not that I’m scared of riding my bike on the road. Rather the contrary is the case.

I made arrangements to meet Daniel on Friday morning for the usual Riverloop, thought I keep up the feeling of normality. Sleep didn’t come easily that night and any thought of riding was dismissed at 3:30 am. My body was too tired, my mind too busy.

Saturday afternoon Alberto talked me into getting out and spinning my legs. He might have had ulterior motives, getting his German nurse out of the house for a couple of hours of solitude. Colin and I met at Nundah and cruised out to Nudgee Beach and back. Even though my body went through the well known motion and it was a pleasant ride, I felt indifferent and apathetic. We finished it off with a couple of sprints and Colin beat me twice and I suspect he let me win the third and last sprint. My whole body was sore, probably from the tension of the previous days.

Sunday afternoon at Nundah. It looked like rain but stayed dry!

Sunday I sat down and re-assessed my training. I thought it had completely derailed but after closer inspection not all is lost. The two weeks prior to Alberto’s accident I had managed reasonably solid 11 hours of training each. I had meant to top it off with another 13 hour training week with some quality threshold sessions before a well deserved rest week. It might not be ideal but I was able to change last week into my rest week and start a new training block.

For this week’s training program I planned solid 13 hours but none of the training sessions will be overly tough. I have turned the high intensity threshold sessions into less strenuous tempo workouts and see how my body reacts. If I can handle work, nursing and training and find the drive again then I can turn it up a notch.

I don’t need to make a decision about Bright now. I have not written it off, yet, but without focus and passion I don’t even need to think about training. The next few days will show. I can’t force it.

The phone call

The moment I walked back into my office my mobile phone started ringing. The phone on the desk showed a missed call. The mobile phone display also showed a missed call and a voice message. I had only left my desk for a minute to fill my water bottle at the water fountain.

That morning, I was getting ready to go to work, Alberto and I had quarrelled. There had been tension in the air for the past couple of days because we were both shaken from the Saturday incident. A little thing about nothing and we hugged and said sorry before I left the house, and I'm glad we did.

At lunch time we spoke on the phone. Alberto said he was going to ride the Mt Nebo loop and I had asked him to be careful and call or text me when he is back home safe, a standard phrase we tell each other almost every day.

I put the water bottle down and picked up my mobile phone. It was 4:25 pm.

"Hi darling, can you write something down for me?" There was urgency in Alberto's voice. I sat down, grabbed a pen and fumbled for some scrap paper while listening to Alberto babbling on, insanely happy, not making sense about something he needed me to write down.

"P E N ... hold on ... P E N T O X ... have you got this?"

I had stopped listening and stopped writing, my brain working on overdrive.

"Where are you?"

"This is great stuff. Sorry, darling, I'm a bit high ... they gave me morphine"

"Alberto! Where are you?"

My brain was desperately trying to make sense of it all.

"I'm OK. I'm OK. ... nothing happened." He was laughing.

"It's all good" It was a forced laugh.

All of the sudden he was dead serious and sober, voice coarse and breaking "Royal Brisbane! I got hit by a car."

Silence!

"Listen Sandra, no need to rush. I'm OK." I was fighting back tears. "Go home, do your training, have a shower..."

"I'll be there in half an hour"

And then I started the longest drive of my life. My brain was numb. What should have been a 20 minute drive turned into an eternal 45 minutes in peak hour traffic. Anxiety building with every red traffic light, the mind playing games with the little information I had, recollecting snippets of the phone conversation, 'They gave me morphine' and 'I hurt my leg' echoing through my head.

I thought I can handle stuff thrown at me. I'm a big girl.

When I arrived at the emergency almost an hour after the phone call they had just taken him for a scan. More waiting, anxiety eating me alive, I called Colin, barely able to stop the tears. Talking to him felt good and he was able to calm me down.

What a relieve, when a guy with a clipboard finally called my name. Alberto was awake, brace around his neck and some road rash. Seeing him hurt was heart-breaking.

It got late that night. I drove home when there was nothing else I could do in the hospital. I took two wrong turns and detoured home, had a shower, made sandwiches, grabbed a cycling magazine and some clothes for Alberto and went back to hospital. More scans, x-rays, tests ... no results or confirmations but we knew that a rib was cracked and a vertebrae. I didn't get much sleep that night. The day in the office the next day was tough.

We both haven't slept much since Wednesday. The anxiety of the past 48 hours has drained all the energy from me.

Alberto got discharged from hospital yesterday afternoon and is recovering.

I baked muffins this afternoon and neighbors, who picked up Alberto's bike from the fire station, dropped in for afternoon tea. Another friend visited. Things will return to normal. Soon.

The bike has not one scratch.

The knee post

Sitting in the coffee shop the other day, just talking and joking after an easy two hour ride with friends, my attention was drawn to this cyclist's knees.

The bulging over-developed m.vastus medialis and m. vastus lateralis, the sagging skin above the knee ... do your knees look like this?

CycleSkill Coach Training Program

The aim of the CycleSkill coaching course is to provide new coaches with the skills to teach novice riders the essential skills to be able to participate in non-competitive events and encourage more people into the sport at beginner level.

A big 'Thank You' to Alex Bright and Adam Gill for presenting a really informative course last Saturday. The day flew by and before I knew it it was time to ride home. The only tiny little complaint I have was the lack of the black stuff throughout the day. Come on - we are all cyclists! We need our coffee!

The morning was spent in the courtyard classroom of the Chandler Velodrome.

We spoke about a coach's code of ethics, training session planning, risk assessment and management, game sense, communication, planning and reviewing and legal obligations.

The afternoon was spent outside on our bikes with practical assessments and everybody got to prepare and present a mini training session while the rest of us played the part of beginner rider. It was fun. I picked 'cornering' as the skill to teach because it's definitely a skill I need to practise myself.

Having learnt bike riding at the age of six without any other instructions apart from "Pedal!", I realised how little I and cyclists in general practise skills. How much time would Tiger Woods spend in the driving range practising the tee off? Or how many times would Roger Federer repeat his serve, over and over, until it becomes effortless and perfect? How many times, as a six year old in the swimming pool, I had to do drills, floating device under the arms and just kicking the legs or floating device stuck under legs and just the arm movement? Cyclists always just go out and ride. None of my friends does any skill drills, at least I'm not aware of anybody doing them, except maybe Scott and Daniel who do their balancing drills at every red traffic light.

So yesterday before our 100 km Mt Mee, while waiting for Alberto to put on his shoes and lock the house, I did 'figure eight' drills in front of the house.

I wasn't very happy with my practical coaching session. I didn't explain how to corner properly and also missed to ask for feedback, but hey, I passed the practical assessment (I don't think this course can actually be failed though) and now only have to send in my theoretical assessment, which means 'homework'.

While I was going through the risk assessment question I wondered, whether I will be able to convincingly promote cycling to new riders, exposing them not just to the usual risks of weather, road hazards, bike handling skills of self and others and so on but also to the risks of deliberate and malicious abuse and assault on the road and - who knows - death? Too dramatic? I don't think so.

Anyway: I got heaps out of the course, even if I should never actively coach. I'm keen to start coaching and I will certainly take the next course Coach Level 1 when it comes around.

Saturday night in town

After a very enjoyable but long day at the Chandler Velodrome for the CycleSkills coaching course yesterday, Shane and I hit the road for an one hour long commute home.

It was 5:30 pm, the sun was setting, and to get to the Northern suburbs, where Shane and I live, from Bribane's 'as south as I would dare to stray' Chandler, one has to get through the inner city. Now the city, on a Saturday night, is not a place for cyclists and I learnt that fairly quickly. From "Get a car!" as one of the most harmless things screamed at me to obscenities you wouldn't want your daughter to hear ... it was a hell ride, especially once the sun had set.

From Southbank onwards, Shane managed to string together a number of bike paths to navigate us safely through the Saturday night fever, away from crazy traffic and drunk youths on their way to night clubs. There was a chill in the air, the day had been cold and windy, but Shane's blistering pace was making me sweat. He had asked me earlier during the course if I would mind a little intensity session on the way home. I suspect it wasn't as intense as he would have liked it to be as I couldn't navigate the obstacle course, that was the city, as quickly. My bike handling skills need improving. I was constantly chasing his red flashing rear light. It was great, I loved it.

The glistening city lights reflecting in the Brisbane River from underneath the Rivercity Express Way, the brightly lit roadworks, the footpath across to another safe bike lane pass the big Telstra Stadium, down to the Innercity Bypass and through the dark alleyways of the Roma Street Parklands, we got spat us out on the other side of town at the Royal Brisbane Hospital. My legs were screaming, my heart was pumping, my head was spinning and after all this exhilaration I slummed deep into "I hate this ride" for the last 15 minutes, back on roads, after Shane had said 'Good bye' and taken a left turn. Cars were passing too closely, words shouted out of car windows that I didn't bother trying to understand. I just wanted to be home. I was cold, tired and hungry.

The pump, Part II

I meant to tell you for some time now: It was the equipment.

After coming out with my embarrassing secret I received lots of sympathy, advice and invitations to test-drive pumps. Small pumps, big pumps, plastic pumps, heavy metal pumps, pretty pink pumps with flowers painted on them and pumps with impressive names like 'Joe Blows'.

My head was spinning but the purchasing decision was made and I now have perfectly pumped tires all the time. More so, I even enjoy pumping my tires. If I had just known that it could be so easy: no more smashed fingers, no more ripped valves, no more entire body weight on top of the handle to get to 120 PSI and no more cursing and swearing at 4:30 AM. It even has a little button that releases the air from the hose once you finished pumping so when you pull the connecting bit off the valve it hardly makes pffiit.

The only downside is that I'm still late for training rides but no longer can blame the equipment.

I can't believe the cat managed to sneak into this photo.

The pump. I mean THE pump.

Selection Criteria

Colin commented on a recent blog post, in which I explored the qualities of a good coach, that I might want to also look into what sort of 'client of a coach' I am.

Joe Friel helped unknowingly with this task when he put together this list of selection criteria and - playing in the HR arena all day every day - I wasn't surprised to read that he, like any HR Pro, looks for the candidate/athlete that promises to be successful.

I took a long hard look at myself and - deep breath - measured myself on Friel's selection criteria. I had to conclude that I've got no chance of ever being selected to pay Friel for his services. I might get an interview but, if honest, would never bring it over the line. Why? Because I'd always fail to deliver on one thing: Excellence! The weirdest thing is that it's actually Friel who's applying for the coaching job. Now, how is that for a twisted recruitment process?

Now, where do I fall short? (Not saying that with a little effort I could improve in some of the areas!)

Motivation

My motivation only ever lasts until the pain sets in. I'm usually super keen to get a really hard workout done but when it starts hurting I back off. Approaching a section of road that has caused suffering in the past, I notice myself cringing, my muscles tighten and I resist the pain even before it sets in. Is there such a thing as Mt Coot-tha anxiety?

Riding with others vs training alone? Chances are I won't make it out of bed when nobody is waiting for me down the road.

Since I'm the coach and athlete in one, leading up to the Tour of Bright (and, boy, there is some pain in store for me), here is the forward focus in my pursuit for excellence:

• Really concentrate on getting the right intensity in every workout!
• Do the training that's required, not the one that's convenient!

Discipline

I'm not even going to pretend that I can deliver on this one. Wait! Don't tell me that I'm too hard on myself. Looking at it on the surface you might think I'm reasonably disciplined. Look deeper! Discipline is not just getting the workouts done. As Friel points out, it's the going to bed on time, it's taking the stretching seriously, breakfast (!), icing the legs, cleaning the bike and oiling the chain, nutrition ... you get the picture. I'm sloppy with all of that and discipline takes concentration. There are always so many other things I'd like to do and then I get stressed because I get tired because I don't get enough rest ...

Alberto and I discussed the diet aspect over dinner and he suggested to make a meal plan. Serious athletes eat that salmon steak because it's required for optimum nutrition, not because they like eating salmon that night. Sounds like fun? Salmon steak is probably not the ultimate sacrifice but you know where I'm heading?

Discipline is when you print the course profile for your upcoming A-priority event and blue-tag it to the back of the toilet door. Guess what we are looking at for the next nine weeks?

Forward focus for Bright?

• Be disciplined with stretching and recovery techniques!
• Have breakfast every day and eat before and during rides!
• Get not just the training done but also the little things that count!

Confidence

Friel admits that there aren't many people who actually fulfil this criterion so I'm not going to feel bad about my lack of confidence. I started working on it already and in fact really appreciated Friel's comments on the subject.

• Every night before sleep think of something done well that day!
• Visualise and re-live previous and future successes!

Focus

Tour of Bright! Maybe tick this one?

Patience

My goal? I mean the really really big picture? It's winning a world championship one day! How so? Well, I figured that if I just stay fit enough for long enough I may out-live all my competition and win the world masters title at the age of 80? I learnt a thing or two about patience in 2009 but the truth is that I'm still just as impatient and easily frustrated as I've always been.

Friel also refers to athletes playing down their training efforts in order to fit in, to be seen as 'normal'. This is known in Australia (and other countries, so Wikipedia tells me) as "Tall Poppy Syndrome", which "describes a societal phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are criticised or resented because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers".


Discipline, motivation, confidence, focus and patience are worthwhile traits to improve, not just to excel in sport but in every area in life. Looking at Friel's criteria that promise to give him some reliable information about an athlete's future performance potential, I know I am a long way off. However; Friel is coaching athletes. Cycling - for me - is a hobby. Admittedly a very excessively pursued one, but a hobby nonetheless. I will possibly never race at national or international level, and time constraints or life will sometimes dictate how much I'm able to put in.

This is not an attempt to appear to be seen as suitably humble in order to escape the tall poppy fate. I am not a coach's client from hell but I'm far from Friel's highly motivated, disciplined, confident, focused an patient athlete. And don't even bother with any "Don't be so hard on yourself" comments but I'd be keen to know: How do you stack up?

Nine weeks till Bright

Friday - 6:35 am - Coronation Drive, Brisbane: Cyclists Daniel (l) and Scott (r) practise offensive behaviour. I wonder if track standing at a traffic light would be perceived offensive if I did it?

Friday - approximately 7:15 am - Chelmer or Graceville: I did not follow the conversation of my riding partners and therefore can not offer any explanation what Scott was trying to say. Note: Spring has broken. Blue Jacaranda streets everywhere.

Saturday - 10:30 am - Mt Nebo Road, approaching the turn off to Mt Glorious Road: You can't do that loop in under three hours, Alberto had said. 1370 m of climbing, 75 km and a strong wind thrown into the mix. Two hours into the loop I remembered the challenge. The sign said "Brisbane 35 km". A beautiful but steep descent into Samford Valley, rainforest, the road meandering along a little shady creek, tailwind pushing me along the valley floor towards the last climb of the day, the Samford range. I knew it would be tight but it made me push hard through the last hour. A very strong finish to an already tough training ride, I missed the cut-off by less than ten minutes. Alberto was impressed nonetheless.

Saturday - 12:30 pm - Home: Recovery mode: ice bath (cold water rather than actual ice), shower, food: of course I'm disciplined enough to get this awefully sweet recovery drink into me but do I have the energy to hold the spoon and stir the powder into the water?

Sunday - 6:15 am - Study/Bike room: Training program says Mt Mee and more climbing. Body says More Recovery. I listen to Body for a change and settle for an easy Riverloop with Daniel.

A Fair Go? Not for cyclists!

The cycling community of Australia was outraged this week and rightly so. I'm a bit late in my social commentary. The post has been on my mind since Wednesday and haven't gotten around to type it up.

Every cyclist in Australia would have heard or seen by now what Magda had to say on "Good News Week" last Monday.



I'm not surprised that Magda Szubanski (or is it spelled Stupidski?), the overweight and intellectually challenged but much-loved unsophisticated underdog of the immensely successful show Kath & Kim, lends her voice to all the hoons and rednecks of this country.

It suits her image and she probably gained some popularity with her comments, certainly in the audience.

Australians love her because she is the personified bogan of Australian culture, a culture that prides itself in the "Fair go!" ideal. It surprises me that this 'fair go' principle does not extend to cyclists or the fair share of the road. Maybe the petrol head culture is deeper ingrained in the Australian culture than the Fair Go principle? Or the whole fair go talk is all just a whole heap of bullocks?

I'm disgusted, Magda. It may not occur to you but you do have a social responsibility! Next time a driver kills a cyclist - it may as well be your fault because you said so on national television! Now live with that!

For a very balanced view on the whole story please read this blog entry on Cycling Tips.

Perfectly healthy - A short play in one act by Groover

Scene I: Waiting room

Late afternoon. An elderly woman is watching a young mother calming her baby. Toddlers running around. The room is full. Other people reading magazines.

Female cyclist enters the scene (nobody knows that she is a cyclist because she is wearing normal clothes, no tan lines visible)

She walks up to the reception desk and then takes a seat, grabs a magazine. Appears somewhat uncomfortable. Not long and female cyclist get's called into doctor's office.

Scene II: Doctor's office

Doctor (smiling reassuringly) How can I help you today?

Female cyclist (somewhat nervous) I called yesterday regarding my blood test result and was asked to come in to get the results.

Doctor Ah! Let's have a look.

Opens screen on computer and starts reading. Pause.

Doctor Ok. Your full blood screen is all perfectly normal. Your liver values? Perfect. Your liver has completely regenerated after your Glandular Fever. Your iron levels? Really good! Colesterol? Very very good. There are no signs of any viral infections in your body.

Female cyclist That's great news.

Doctor Anything else I can help you with today?

female cyclist I'm still waking up with a sore throat every morning.

Doctor Let me check your throat!

Gets little spot light out and cyclist opens mouth.

Doctor I can see that it is inflamed. It is most likely the change of temperature between day and night. Make sure you don't sleep in a draft and keep your neck covered at night. Anything else?

Female cyclist My rest heart rate has been very high in the mornings.

Doctor How high is it?

Female cyclist It was 67 bpm this morning.

Doctor That is a really slow pulse. You are perfectly fine.

Female cyclist But it is around 50-55 bpm normally?

Doctor Not to worry, you are fine!

Female cyclist (doubtful) So I can train hard and there is nothing wrong.

Doctor Yes, you can train. There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfectly healthy.

Female cyclist (resigning) Ok, then. Thank you. Have a good day.

Cyclist exits to left.

Scene III: Waiting room

Cyclist walks up to reception

Receptionist That's $55 for today. Thank you very much.

Cyclist pays and exits.

Scene Four - Road

Female cyclist and male cyclist on their bikes, riding two abreast, chatting, setting sun.

Male cyclist So how was your doctor appointment today?

Female cyclist All blood test results are normal. My Glandular Fever is completely gone. I'm perfectly healthy.

Male cyclist See, you didn't need to worry. That's great.

Female cyclist Yes, I'm really relieved that the results are good but normal doctors just don't get it. Maybe I should see a sport's doctor?

Male cyclist You were probably the fittest and healthiest person who walked through the door of that medical centre today. What are you going to do now?

Female cyclist Train hard, like the doctor said, and focus on the Tour of Bright.

Cyclists riding off.