This is it!

Sunday afternoon and I can hear fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen and a wonderful smell is starting to fill the house. I'm craving something sweet, something baked, a little treat to accompany the lazy Sunday afternoon. I checked the fridge and the pantry already, well aware that there is only a lone chocolate bar in the top shelf. Chocolate is not what I’m after. I feel like cake but I'm too tired to whip up some quick muffins. Blackberry jam on toast makes for a very unsatisfactory substitute.

The ride this morning hadn’t been very hard, just long, 93 km, and hot. The air has cooled a little since the early afternoon storm that brought some relief, some heavy drops of warm rain and a breeze. I opened up the house to get rid of the stinking hot air inside.

The house is in a bit of a mess, I dare to admit, since this weekend was too busy and hot for housework. Last night saw us getting all dressed up for the Queensland Cyclist of the Year Awards Night. It's not very often that we hit town on a Saturday night nowadays and I really enjoyed it, apart from that bit when I got pushed into the limelight. That was very uncomfortable.

I'm stoked to have been nominated Queensland Cyclist of the Year in my age group category together with Sheree McKenzie and Lisa Luskie, who won the award well deservedly. Congratulations to all the winners and to Cycling Queensland for giving us an opportunity to dress up, including sporting ridiculous tanlines in a little black dress.

Needless to say that it was tough this morning to get out of bed and meet Mark at Zupps, where a huge group of cyclists left at the usual time. We tagged along for the first twenty kilometres before veering off towards Dayboro and Mt Mee.

We weren’t the only one’s who had the idea and I was glad to see more riders taking the roundabout exit that takes you into Brisbane’s hilly hinterlands. At first happy to have some more wheels to follow, I soon dropped off, as they pushed a pace that wasn’t exactly “easy”.

My training program required “easy” and poor Mark rode next to me fidgety and keen. I could see that he was drawn to go with the faster group but he must have felt obliged to hang back with me. He refused to go ahead and meet me on top of Mt Mee. I suspect by then he had started to enjoy our leisurely pace and realised that not every ride has to be a race. He taught me a few valuable things along the way, about pacing up the rolling hills by maintaining a high cadence. It was fun spinning up those hills and I was surprised about the ease with which I climbed the 6 km up Mt Mee. Mark and I chatted the whole way and my heart rate barely touched 135 bpm. Of course we were slow but a few months ago there wasn’t such a thing as “comfortable climbing” even at crawling pace; all climbing was laborious and tiring if I didn’t want to roll backwards down the hill.

Even though I didn’t feel exactly great today and some doubts about my Mt Hotham readiness crept in, it was an enjoyable ride.

Ready or not - this is it. It's time to taper now.

Only five days till I will line up in Ovens, Victoria, for the start of the 2009 Tour of Bright. And what a coincidence to receive note from Jo Holdaway this morning. Jo illustrated the story I wrote for The Ride Journal last year, you might remember. A story about my love and hate for the Tour of Bright. Jo sent me a photo of her illustration blown up and printed on canvas for an exhibition in Bristol (UK). I recognised the big fat bumble bee straight away. It made me smile and I took it as a good omen. Maybe I should buy it so I can be reminded to believe in myself. Just like bees are not made to fly and do it anyway, I can ride up mountains.

Hugs for free

I'm proud to be German. Yes, a statement that often raises eyebrows because of Germany's history, but today I've got a good reason to be proud of Germany. They come up with good ideas. I read about this campaign "Kopf an, Motor aus!" (Head on, engine off!) that encouraged people to walk or ride their bikes for distances of six kilometers or less in order to reduce carbon emissions. In Dortmund they put this big poster up that says "A Big Thank You to all Dortmund cyclists".

In Australia a whole party is falling apart over emission trading right now. What a contrast!

I got home from the race this morning and I don't know if I'm just tired or I'm getting nervous because of Bright or because there was a crash in my race and I avoided coming down by the width of a tire but I learnt afterwards that a good friend was not so lucky and got hurt badly ... whatever it was ... I felt lousy when I got home. Overwhelmed and sad.

I remembered Dad's words and decided that I had no reason to feel so down. Amazing how you can choose your attitude. I never thought you can change your mood but I was wrong. I felt much better just for deciding to do so and getting on with things. Alberto had told me to treat today like race day and do exactly what I will do next week: ice the legs, shower, eat, put the legs up and get optimum recovery for the next stage.

After all that done, I caught up on some blogs and came across this little YouTube movie, also an initiative from Germany, and it was just what I needed. It cheered me up immensely.

The girl is offering free hugs ... but not to everybody. Watch it! It's very cute and if you read this blog, chances are, you are a cyclist or else qualify for a hug, too.



Stay safe and keep pedalling!

Count down - Two weeks to the Tour of Bright

Cycling is...

...when you keep pedalling anyway.

Spanner in the wheel but I only took my eyes of the goal for a second to evaluate the damage. Sore neck, loss of range of movement, more pain further down the back along the spine, some pins and needles in the neck area and shoulders, short dizzy spells and headaches. Google is very helpful for a quick self-diagnosis: sounds like a whiplash injury? Yes, I will go and see a doctor to confirm that there is no bone damage. Would just hate to be told that I can't race the Tour of Bright...

I was still too shaken to train on Friday morning and I didn't have the guts to race on Saturday as per my training program. I felt a little vulnerable on the road but got on the bike anyway and pushed going up Mt Nebo to test the legs and neck. My mind was tired from scanning every car, expecting drivers to come out of unexpected corners and seeing danger everywhere and my body was sore from the accident but I still followed up with a short 15 km time trial in the afternoon.

Today, I rested all morning and late in the afternoon, instead of attempting once again the steep Mt Glorious Rd and a long four hour training session, I went out for only two hours. I stuck with the equally steep but much shorter Clear Mountain and felt better than yesterday, even beat my personal best by five seconds on one of the little climbs on Eaton's Crossing.

It will all fall into place and come together in two week's time, I'm sure.

Can't always win

Some days you win, some days you loose. Today I lost. The fight for the parking spot. At the shopping mall. When I was getting sushi for lunch.

Before reversing into my spot I waited for the big black boisterous BMW to pass safely. He just drove around me and into the spot. Laughed, too. It's getting closer to Christmas.

And then, on the way home from work, a car turned right. In front of me. My traffic light had shown green. I was going straight. I had nowhere to go. I tee-boned him. My car is a write-off. That's what the guys from the tow truck company said.

I'll be sore and stiff when the shock subsides. So they said. The guys from the ambulance. I told them I didn't want to go with them. To hospital.

Rebecca saw the accident and stopped. She was the one who called the police. And ambulance. I liked her hat. No need for compliments in a situation like this. She said.

Never a dull moment. That what Theresa said in a comment. Recently.

I hope the guy in the other car is alright. He did take a ride in the ambulance. But that was much later. After the police had arrived. Chest pain, probably the heart.

I hope we are done with accidents in this house. That's what I say.

And at night the hills are watching me

Last week Alberto got up with me every morning. I suspect he didn't trust that I wouldn't slip into the spare bedroom, which now has a bed in it, ready for my parent's visit in a few weeks. There was a fair chance, too.

This week he slept straight through my alarms. I missed out on having my coffee made for me but I'm pretty bloody proud of myself. I completed every scheduled workout. Alberto had warned me that it would be tough.

The tougher it is now the more fun I'm going to have in Bright.

View from Ocean View Road, Mt Mee. You can see Brisbane CBD in the distance.

Last Sunday I ventured out to Mt Mee, feeling sore and sorry for myself after Saturday's double session: the Lakeside race in the morning and a time trial in the afternoon. I don't recover very fast, never have, and getting back on the bike while my muscles are still stiff and sore is not much fun. But that is exactly what I will have to do in Bright so I might as well get used to it.

Eaton's Crossing

I enjoyed the rolling hills on Wednesday morning through Eaton's Crossing and Bunya Road. After Monday's recovery and Tuesday's easy spin I felt fresh and strong and fast. Thursday morning I tried for a new personal best up to McAfees lookout and I came as close as eight seconds.

Brisbane CBD in the haze, view from Mt Coot-tha

Expecting to see the usual Riverloop scheduled for Friday, I made arrangements to meet friends, only to be told that I had to cancel. The training program asked for medium intensity climbing. I chose Mt Coot-tha and did two reverse loops.

Yesterday I raced a short sharp criterium and pulled out with one lap to go because some guys rubbed shoulders and I ended up in the grass. There was the afternoon time trial that felt just as hard as last week's afternoon session.

Approaching Mt Glorious

Five o'clock this morning and my alarm went off. My body was sore, I felt tired and snuggled on Alberto's shoulder. It was tough to leave the cosy bed. The weather forecast said it was going to be another hot day. The earlier I got out the earlier I would be back, avoiding the heat. Four hours and 100 kilometers and lots of climbing was scheduled. In fact, Alberto had put Mt Glorious Road on my training plan, a road that I never even attempted to climb up because it ends with two kilometers of about 15% gradient.

"Hey, if I don't get up Pee Road tomorrow I can just turn around and try the Goat Track" was my way of expressing my doubts to Alberto that night.

"Don't worry about a plan B and just stick with plan A." was Alberto's reply, leaving no doubt of his expectations and rebuking me for my negative attitude.

I left the house quietly and once on my bike I felt great. The climb over Samford Range felt easy and an hour later, while approaching Mt Glorious, I psyched myself up by picturing myself on the top of the climb calling Alberto excitedly with "I did it! I did it!"

The phone call, however, ended up a teary one, as I was trying to cope with the intense feeling of defeat and disappointment. My legs grew tired. There was not enough oxygen in the air. I looked up and there was no end in sight. I was facing this wall of a climb and I could no longer turn the pedals.

The tears dried on this narrow gravel road that is the Goat Track, plan B after all. People always talk about the Goat Track but all these years in Brisbane and today was the first time that I rode it. It won't be the last time.

Goat Track

Mt Hotham is not for the squeamish

Last year's file!

brown line = altitude, red line = heart rate, blue line = speed

I can picture the café in Harrietville, where I plummeted into the chair after the descent of last year's Mt Hotham stage, not able to move for ages and intensely grateful for Mick’s foresight to send our friend Bruce ahead to collect the car from Bright to pick us up. The 30 km climb and descent had cost me so much energy that I didn't think I could ride the 25 km back from Harrietville to our holiday apartment in Bright. It was the hardest thing I had ever done.

The café is the sign that the climb is about to start.

Finally I'm writing this post. It is well overdue. Colin asked me a long time ago in one of his comments and I promised to take up his challenge: to write down how I commit to ride Mt Hotham this year. It is meant as important part of my training for Bright this year - the mental preparation! Visualising the race and concentrating on each step I will have to take in order to be successful and to achieve my goal.

So this is how I'm going to race Stage Three of the Tour of Bright, the ascent to Mt Hotham, this year:

I will not contest the intermediate sprint just before the café and I will eat a Clif Bar before Harrietsville so I will start the climb well fuelled.

Once the road kicks up I will, steady and without haste, work my way up to my climbing heart rate of 162 bpm and find my rhythm as soon as I can. I will not stress about the attacks that will inevitably take place and I will not be tempted into chasing any of the faster girls. Putting myself deep into the red zone for the small gain of staying with them for those few more meters will not be worth the loss later on through fatiguing too quickly. Mt Hotham is a long climb.

I will concentrate on technique, breathing and drinking for the next four kilometres because the climb is steady and the effort will be known to my legs through the countless training rides up the similar gradient of Mt Mee. I won’t shy away from the pain of riding right at the climbing threshold but I won’t push pass it either.

I will reach "The Meg" within 20 minutes of the start of the climb. The Meg is a sharp rise of 12% for about 400 meters. It will hurt and I will get out of the saddle to keep my momentum. It will be only a short-lived pain and nothing in comparison to what is to come so I will push through and over and settle back into my climbing rhythm immediately after the Meg. I will keep an eye on the time and push steadily on to reach the 10 km mark in less than 40 minutes.

Once the road levels out to a mere false flat I will eat another Clif Honey Oat bar and keep the cadence high and spin my legs in order to get rid of some of the lactic acid build up. I will also keep my heart rate just below threshold for a little rest before the serious part of the climb that starts at the toll booths.

From here on it will be a matter of just pushing on for the last 10 kilometers and keeping the negative self-talk in check. It will be tough and it will hurt but I will be better prepared because this year I will have the 27 teeth cog on my cassette and I will have "I can do this. I have done this before!" ready, should the gremlins of negativity return.

It will be all worthwhile because the view from the top is stunning and the sense of achievement is worth paying the price.

Bullies on Australian roads

I got attacked four times during a short two hour training ride to McAfees lookout. That was a week ago.

Twice by busses on Waterworks Road and once by a magpie. The forth attack was something else, a grey bird, a touch smaller than a magpie and after some googling I believe it was a Butcher Bird.

Last weekend I did the same ride and stayed well clear of the aggressive busses but had an unexpected close call with a soccer mum driving her son to school. She just wouldn't allow me an inch of the road.

I was, however, prepared for my friend Bully Butcher Bird just before the bus depot on the bottom of the climb.

I kept my eyes out for him when I hit the slight incline that, from my experience, marked the start of his territory. I kept looking up above and behind but could not spot him.

Just last week I had read a brilliant article about the habits of swooping birds in the most recent Australia Geographic magazine and according to their research you are less likely to get attacked when you face the bird. So here I was head up in the air, waiting for the attack and - nothing. Half way up and no bird in sight.

"The research is right or he might be still asleep" I thought to myself when the familiar wings flapped around my ears and my helmet got tapped by his beak. Even having anticipated it, it gave me a little scare. I faced him and he flew off, just like the article had said. I kept looking up and behind but no bird in sight? Little shit! And again - tap tap - on my helmet. How come I could't see him in the shadow on the road? I could see my own shadow as the sun was behind me but not the bird sneaking up on me from above. From above? And then I spotted him, right behind my rear wheel, flying just inches above the road.

What a smart little cookie, he's got it worked out, drafts on you like a Pro and then flies up from below. And I swear I saw a big grin on his little face.

He had fun and so had the school kids that were waiting at the bus stop across the road.

***

Here are some interesting facts from the Australian Geographic magazine:

1. Only up to 12% of magpies are swoopers.

2. They are very specific about who they aim for, 11% only target postal workers, 8% only target cyclists and 52% swoop pedestrians only. Some even target only specific individuals, e.g. one family member, and leave others in peace.

3. Nearly all swooping magpies are male.

4. There are two recorded deaths caused by magpie attacks. In 1946 a 13 year old boy died of tetanus after an attack and a man died in Outback Australia because the beak penetrated the neck and cut his spinal cord.

5. Most birds swoop from behind to intimidate. They keep doing it because most of the time they get rewarded. They swoop - you leave their territory. They are successful.

6. People have successfully befriended swooping magpies by feeding them.

7. Humans are just another predator for them and they attack to protect their offspring. Swooping a human is low level risk, compared to, for example, swooping a fox.

8. 5000 Swoop! packs, containing false eyes stickers and warning posters, have been sold since 1995. Research has shown that false eyes don't help cyclists.

Concentrate on the task at hand and ignore the pain

Kim Flesser, one of the very experienced sprinters in the club who regards being called "sandbagger" an honour, was right next to me. We had just past the start/finish area of the Lakeside race circuit for the very last lap. The 40 minutes prior I had suffered. The bell came as a surprise because my mind had switched to auto pilot while I was surviving lap after lap, up the hill, into the wind, brief downhill, up the second hill, pass the start/finish and again.

"Hey Kim, how are you feeling? Are you going to win this?"

I had no particular intentions when I threw the question at him and it was certainly not the time for light conversation.

" Get on my wheel, Sandra. I don't know about winning but I can get you ahead of the other girls."

His voice was matter of fact, calm and reassuring. Something in my brain switched and there was none of my usual hesitation. 2 km to the finish of this race and I trusted his wheel. I just zoomed in on the task at hand. A young guy might have overheard our brief conversation because he started heckling for Kim's wheel in the carousel. I was on the inside, protected by him from the wind and for once I forgot about my fears of crashing. He wasn't going to get my wheel.

Leading up to the final climb up the steeper hill it got messy and Kim drifted towards the middle of the bunch. I lost his wheel but was so focused on staying with him that I attacked on the inside of the track, went hard around one guy and gave it all, overtook several more riders as the space in front of me opened up and almost puked when I reached the top. Kim was already descending, about ten meters ahead of me.

It took me a tenth of a second to scan the few people in front and there was definitely no other girl in sight. I didn't dare to look back, just ignored the sick feeling and dove down the hill into the finishing straight at 60 km/h. The straight seemed endless and I started to fade but the advantage was enough to get me over the line ahead of the other girls and even more satisfying, ahead of a whole bunch of guys, too.

Kim crossed the line in third place.

With the ride out to Lakeside and back home I have ridden 75 solid kilometers this morning. Now I will have to get ready for a 15 km time trial this afternoon. The past few years, Stage Two has always been a shock to the system at the Tour of Bright as it come on the back of the 78 km Stage One with a mere four or five hours of recovery in between the races. Not this year! This year my body will know what's expected.

Training for Bright - back on track with help!

The 5 am support is invaluable. I couldn't have asked for anyone in a better position to give me that support right now. What coach would agree to come to your house at 5 am, wake you up, make you coffee, keep you moving when you daze off between putting on bib and jersey and procrastinate when eating the muesli? He does an amazing job kicking me out the door before 5:30 am. How much would you pay for that service when you have a goal but not enough drive?

5 AM in our kitchen. We had beautiful mornings this week.

I'm hoping that a couple of weeks of this routine will kick start the habit that I once followed diligently. For now it's like ice cold water, a glacial stream that you dip your toe into. You know instantly that to jump in will take more willpower than you can muster. That is the 4:30 am alarm clock. Alberto pushes me and after the initial shock, once your body gets used to the temperature/time of day, you feel invigorated and glad that you did jump in/got out of bed.

If I just go through the motions long enough then the motivation to train will return. That's my theory anyway.

It's coming cheap for me. I'm re-paying in muffins. Secretly I'm actually trying to fatten Alberto up a little while I get a chance. I love my man more sprinter than willow climber's frame.

I just have to be careful to stay at climbing weight myself. Currently I'm the lowest I have been in years. At 169 cm I weigh 54.6 kg, which should give me an advantage in Bright over the past couple of years, when I started the race at 57-58 kg.

To hold this weight over the next four weeks will be the challenge. I can't help eating the muffins so I reduce the olive oil in the salad and skip seconds at dinner more often. Lunch is mainly sushi and thanks to Alberto I have breakfast every day, which makes a huge difference to the metabolism.

He said yes.

My post frequency is down to one per week.

My training volume is only between six and seven hours per week.

I'm struggling to get more writing and saddle time, mainly because I'm either too busy or too tired.

Tuesday nights I have been doing power threshold session on the windtrainer. I initially started the evening sessions because I didn't manage to get up early. Then I noticed that the windtrainer sessions are actually more beneficial, especially the threshold power sessions that I took from Coggan's and Allen's book (page 84).

The windtrainer allows for targetted work at threshold power. They are tough sessions of about 60 to 80 minutes. On the road I'm never able to work exactly in one narrow zone. My power is always all over the place.

3 x 5 min threshold intervals with 5 min recovery



1 x 5 min blow out session followed by 10 min in E2
Intervals 2 x 15 minutes as follows:
2 min at 110% of threshold power,
-10 Watts every minute for next 4 minutes,
+10 Watts every minute for next 2 min
7 min at TH 95-106%



5 min blow out and 20 min at 95-106% of threshold power

Wednesdays I do Tempo sessions on the rollers. The tempo sessions are not as tough and I usually turn them into cadence work. I especially like the one where you work in your tempo zone at your natural cadence and then you work at plus 20 rpm for a prescribed time and then at minus 20 rpm while maintaining the tempo power, except that I can't do the minus 20 rpm because even the 53/12 doesn't give me enough resistence to stay in the correct power zone.

Tempo session

Friday I did a Riverloop with friends and after the coffee stop I was heading for Mt Coot-tha to add three more hill repeats to an otherwise easy ride but it started pouring down rain as soon as I left the coffee shop so I decided to ride home and get out for hill repeats later in the day. That later in the day never happened because friends from Cairns visited and a lunch turned into an afternoon tea turned into dinner at the local Thai place turned into an overnight stay and breakfast and another lunch and some bike shop visits ... We hadn't seen each other for over a year.

Saturday morning when everybody was still asleep I raced the local club criterium just for training and Alberto had said to add at least 25 km afterwards but everytime I was about to leave I bumped into someone else and chatted for a bit and so the 25 extra kilometers never happened.

Today I managed a two hour ride to McAfees lookout when I had planned a four hour ride to Mt Mee. I had slept in and then the morning was taken up by picking up the new bed for the spare bedroom for when my parents come over to stay with us in December/January and then shopping and lunch.

I came to the conclusion that if I want to race the Tour of Bright I need help. With all that has happened this year I can't do it by myself. So I asked Alberto to help me with a training program and encouragement. He didn't say yes straight away. I understand that commitment has to come from within. I'm glad he agreed to help me. It's only five weeks.

Winning is not the aim but if I can go into the tour as best prepared as I can with the little time that is left then I will have a better time and more fun. That's all.