Involuntary purist

My friend Dee, who I hadn't seen in over two years, and I went for a hike on Saturday. Only a little hike I must admit but what better way to spend an unscheduled rest weekend? We were in the middle of thick rainforest when Dee suddenly announced that she smelled coffee. I thought it was wishful thinking. But to my great surprise we emerged from the Lantana overgrown single track shortly afterwards. We reached a grassy clearing directly behind Boombana cafe.

The cafe is well known to me as it has been a welcome coffee stop on many Mt Nebo rides but I hadn't realised how close we were. It's good to stray off roads sometimes even if it's without a bike.

My resting heart rate was back to normal yesterday morning, which means I should be all good to train again.

A couple of medium intensity rides will be back on my weekly schedule from now. With no means to measure either heart rate or power it will be back to the good old perceived exertion scale to judge how hard I'm going.

My handle bar is empty, clean and puristic but I'm not a purist at heart. I miss my Powertap. Four weeks and counting. I still have no idea how long it is going to take until I'll have it back but I received an email advising me that it'll be replaced under warranty at no cost to myself. I guess I should just shut up about the service. Am I unreasonable to expect a quick phone call or email to let me know what's happening? Is it asked too much to get a smile and a "No worries, we'll sort it out"? Is it wrong to expect that a business actually cares about their customers?

I've broken up with my LBS but I still love you, Powertap, so please let's not fight anymore.

Resting heart rate

I've never been the same since my Glandular fever. I swear, my energy levels are still not what they were before I got sick and I get tired easily. A few weeks ago I chatted with a young kid in the bike shop. He got Glandular fever about the same time as me, in December 2008, and he told me that he is still not back on the bike. Guess I'm doing well in comparison.

Where am I heading with this?

Sometimes my body speaks to me in loud and clear language. Sometimes I choose to listen. Monday morning my resting heart rate was 70 bpm. I was in shock. Only back in the days when smoking was still acceptable behaviour and allowed in restaurants and pubs would I record such a high resting heart rate.

Back then I was an unfit sloth. Today I am an athlete. My 'fit' resting heart rate is somewhere in the low 50ies. After some time off the bike after Christmas I started with a resting heart rate in the low 60ies. That was expected. But when the Tuesday heart rate climbed to 74 bpm - I measured three times just to be sure - I knew that something was up.

I did some Internet based research and I discovered a few interesting facts that I'd like to share:

• Miguel Indurain had a resting heart rate of 28 beats per minute, one of the lowest ever recorded in a healthy human.


• It's not rare for people who exercise for an hour every day to achieve a resting heart rate of 50 bpm.


• Resting heart rate is probably the least important variable in comparing athletes.


• Men usually have a lower resting heart rate than women.

When I'm really fit I envy AMR for his incredibly low heart rate. With my new-found knowledge I will hopefully be able to stop obsessing about the lowliness of my lowest heart rate and stop competing with him on that.

First I thought the high resting heart rate might be just a sign of my increased training load, after all I had spent close to seven hours on my bike last weekend. But when it didn't come down to more normal levels after a rest day and with the general tiredness, a slightly sore throat in the mornings and swollen glands under my arms - symptoms too familiar to ignore - I decided to put my frustration aside and swap this week's high load of 13.5 training hours for an early rest week.

It was a good call as my heart rate remained high all week and I would have struggled through my training.

Now I'm visiting my training program and I've got a few options how to modify my training from here: I'm tossing up between either changing my training program to three-week-blocks to allow for enough rest and recovery or to stick with four-week-blocks but lower my overall hours.

Or I could continue on and give my current slightly ambitious training program another shot before making any rash changes. Your thoughts?

Three and a half hours and three weeks

Three hours didn't sound long when I wrote my training program. It felt damn long when I was heading towards Redcliffe, just over an hour into my three hours, alone on the road on a Saturday afternoon, edging my way along dark clouds that looked like they'll dump lots of heavy wet bombs on me any moment.

Without the newly found podcasts, time would have passed even slower. Podcasts are good for base training. If anybody is interested, I'd be happy to write about a few I found entertaining or interesting. Let me know.

For now just type 'workout music' in the iTunes search box and look under the podcast section. Goldmines of free exercise music that will keep going much longer than your average three to four hour base training ride.

In yesterday's ride I checked out the new Houghton Highway bridge. It is almost finished. I love the bike access from the Woody Point end that is now open. No need to cross three lanes of traffic anymore. The other side however, where you have to cross the road and use the foot crossing because bikes don't trigger the traffic light, is inconvenient, because you get stuck on the wrong side of the road but this should also be good once the project is complete.



Week three of my training and I'm right on track, building up my weekly hours nicely from eight hours to ten last week and twelve hours saddle time this week. Next week will peak at 13.5 hours before a well deserved rest week.

Only a few more weeks of this and I'll be racing again. Can't wait.

In other news - or better no-news: It's three weeks now since my Powertap decided to stop working altogether and I still don't even know what's happening with it. This is very frustrating and in case you consider buying a Powertap in Australia then please be aware that the support is not very good when something goes wrong with it. This might be different in other countries. I'm really curious how long it will take and what the outcome will be in the end.

Absolute stillness

The whole room is mirror walled. No matter where you look: You. Painful awareness how misaligned the body and how bad the posture is.

Assymmetry is in fashion - maybe. But surely its not healthy to have the pelvis out and the computer slouch ... hey, even my abs are misaligned. My legs are different long, too, and that can't be good for even pedalling action.

I used to see a Chiropractor regularly. I stopped going there sometime last year. I figured it was the lazy way of taking care of the problem, and the expensive way, too. When we lived in Cairns I practised Ashtanga Yoga. Loved it. But I never got back into the routine when we moved to Brisbane.

So when a few girls in the office talked about Bikram the other day, I jumped at the opportunity. Doing Yoga in a 40C heated room wasn't going to be that different from doing Ashtanga Yoga in the middle of summer in Cairns, so I thought.

Before we had finished the second breathing exercise I felt sweat perls running down my back and belly. That was before we even started moving. I reckon I sweat more than anybody else in that room.

I pushed and stretched and concentrated and stayed in the moment and didn't resist going deeper into the pose and sweat dripped off my fingers, off my outstretched arms, off my nose as the forehead tried to touch the knees. Sweat stung in my eyes so I didn't have to see myself in the mirror anymore and in Prasarita Padottanasana (wide-legged forward bend), with my head touching the floor, sweat even ran up my nose into my sinuses. It stung, like ocean stings in your nose after the wave dumped you in the sand.

When 90 minutes of Yoga in a hot room were indured and mastered without getting nauseaus, dizzy or passing out, a sense of peace and quiet should reward you for all the effort. We were lying in the darkened room in Savasana (corpse pose) and the soothing voice of our young instructor was imploring us to be absolutely still to gain the maximum reward and benefit of our hard work ... a sweat perl started running into my ear. As the voice was demanding absolute stillness it rolled slowly down my inner ear. What should have been the most blissful moment of my night turned into a tickling hell.

Next time I have to weigh my towel before and after the session just to figure out how much sweat I actually loose.

Heidi might be right that Bikram Yoga is not quite the right type of Yoga for cyclists. I had one hour before bed time to try and adequately re-hydrate for this morning's training ride.

I signed up for a trial month. I figured that doing the wrong kind of yoga might be better than doing no yoga at all. Let's see how I go.

What made me smile this week

It was very unexpected when I came home from work one night this week and found flowers in my watering can and a book with a note saying "Thank you coach", placed on the table. A certain someone had snuck through the garden gate, slipped past the side of the house, tiptoed onto the back veranda and had left something instead of taking. So so sweet, it put a big smile on my face. Thank you.

When I opened the book at a random page and started reading, my eyes straight away filled with tears. It was a very honest and emotional description of her feelings when Anna had to face the press after her accident at the LA championship that almost left her quadriplegic. I can't wait to read the whole book (from the start) about her amazing recovery and how she went on to win the silver medal in Beijing. Alberto also read a little already and admitted while chatting during our ride this morning that it made him want to race track. Expect a book review shortly.

It so happened that also this week my coach accreditation papers arrived. The next coaching course will be in June and I'm planning to get the Level 1 accreditation, too. This reminds me that I was asked to write about my coaching experience and I promise I will ... but not today. I'm off to meet with a few work colleagues to try out Bikram Yoga. I've done Ashtanga and Hatha Yoga in the past but never tried Bikram before so I'm slightly apprehensive.

Dawn

I agree with people who say that dawn is a very special time of the day. Like with most things special, early morning starts are treasured because ordinary people rarely get to see the sun rise over the horizon. I'm not different and I swear I'm still not the same I was before I got Glandular Fever, even though there is no viral evidence. My energy levels are not what they used to be before I got sick over 15 months ago.

After a couple of weeks of preparation, my official training started today. Despite the rain last week I managed a clean sweep on all eight scheduled hours on the bike. The purpose of preparation is to get physically and mentally ready for the upcoming training regime with playful rides and without structure to where, when and how fast to ride.

After three months of very little and very sporadic riding I guess I'm as ready as I will ever be to brave pre-dawn.

Preparation (and the last few gym sessions) showed a gigantic loss of fitness. I want to be able to survive the third set of 40 second alternating bench jumps without being sent deep into the twilight zone between throwing up and passing out, heart pumping right in my throat and a ringing noise in my ears.

With all the lost fitness, the consistent gym work over the last months has definitely improved my muscle strength. Word of advice: Going for maximum strength during periods of very little riding has huge benefits.

While I'm not moving at great speed just yet, I'm mildly excited about having seen the sunrise from the back of my bike this morning.

So while the Queensland Racing Calendar has seen the first few events come and go and many girls have already shown great form, I haven't even renewed my racing licence for 2010, yet, and my first race is still months away.

I try not to feel left behind and I'm determined to be on my bike before dawn again tomorrow, a new dawn for my search for personal cycling greatness. Huh! The only place I'm going to move with high pace in the next few minutes is ... straight to bed.

Soaked

The alternative was to spend two hours on the windtrainer and even though I'd lie if I said it was fun I remain that it was better than the alternative. It didn't rain the whole time. At times it drizzled and there was even a short-lived dry spell along the waterfront.

There are plenty of good things to report about this ride. For once people can't call me a fair weather rider.

But the best story from my time on the road today was when this blue car was driving pass and a guy with curly brown hair screamed out of the passenger's window. It was just where the motorway starts and the arterial road veers off to the left and cars are usually already accelerating to the upcoming 100km and the shoulder is pretty dodgy. It is a dangerous spot for a single cyclist. With my eyes fixed on the road as to not slip on the wet white line or hit one of the potholes I tried to ignore the usual abuse. I couldn't understand what he was saying anyway but then I caught the last word "Rain" and when I looked up I saw the big thumbs up came out of the passenger window as the car drove off. Obviously not abuse this time and I smiled.

On the very next red traffic light a car stopped next to me and there was a boy in the passenger's seat looking at my bike while saying something to his mother. His little sister in the rear booster gave me the biggest smile and a big wave and I waved back. She obviously didn't think anything strange about me riding in the rain either.

The day I failed my practical driving test ...

... was the most shameful day in my life. Not only had I been spoilt by sporting and acadamic success and not yet encountered failure in my young life - it was only a few days before my 18th birthday - but the reason for my failing was particularly hard to accept, personally.

I remember it like it was yesterday and bear with me regarding the relevance of this story for a cycling related blog. I assure you that it is relevant.

My driving teacher in the passenger's seat wasn't reassuring to me. Nothing seemed to settle me. For plain financial reasons I needed to pass the test. Driving lessons are mandatory in Germany ... and costly. Not only do they drill you on courtesy and road rules and respect for other road users in several theory lessons but everybody is required to take a minimum number of driving lessons with a certified driving school before even allowed to the test. I was still in school and didn't know where to get the money for additional driving lessons, should I fail the test.

The pressure was huge and I was nervous like hell.

I also can't tell 'left' from 'right', which added to my nervousness. In order to set the indicator correctly and turn in the right direction I needed early instructions and even with plenty of notice it took enormous concentration to get it right.

So here I was, sweating all sorts of dramas behind the steering wheel, when I was required to stop at a "Give way" sign. The elderly woman on her bike in front of me, slightly to the right, was going straight ahead. I didn't mean to scare her. I was still trying to work out whether "left" was indeed the left I was planning to travel. I was just so incredibly nervous that I accidently tipped the gas. Twice. The engine raved. Twice. She turned her head. She looked at me with stern eyes.
Bang! I failed! I harrassed a cyclist! In my practical driving test!

That's how strict they are in Germany, no ifs and buts. It's a good thing!

They still surprise me...

... with their unhelpfulness. But it probably shouldn't surprise me. We are not talking about a several thousand dollar item here, right! The email reply from Saris was prompt and professional. They advised to check the battery pack first because it sounds like that is the fault. If not then there is something more serious wrong with the internal hub parts.

So I rang Velo this morning and explained this. Their answer? They don't have a battery pack and it's too hard to order it in and if it's not that then I will have to send the wheel and hub to Trek, the distributor, in Sydney anyway so I might as well send the wheel to Sydney straight away!

Huh?!

Maybe I'll call them again later but right now I'm too upset about being snobbed by my local bike shop that sold the Powertap to me in the first place (and my bike and lots of other bits and pieces over the years).

I know good customer service when I see it! Don't get me wrong, I have received good customer service from Velo on plenty occasions in the past. Maybe this makes it more disappointing in this instance.