I got gipped.
So today, I did a 50 mile ride and it was on a route that I’ve been avoiding like the plague because of a 6 miles long hill that’s a 4-5% grade (depending on where you are). That is not my idea of fun. Well, not going up it, that’s no fun, coming down is another story.
The morning began and I’m riding along trying not to get killed, because with 400 people on the river trail and all kinds of breaking going on, the chances were high that I was eventually going to be unable to avoid a wreck and get into one (luckily, I got lucky, and I didn’t ever crash, but all kinds of peeps that were in front of me did). And so at about 8 miles, I was desperately trying to talk myself out of doing the full 50 miles. I was telling myself how 25 was ok (and it’d get me out of having to ride up that monster of a hill). But then, Miguel, one of my Outlaws pulls up beside me and tells me that I should ride the whole thing. It was kindof difficult for me to say no because I had to do a 50 mile ride today.
And so, I conquered the hill, if I can call it that. Conquering that is. I went up it at a measly 5.5-8 mph depending on where I was or if I had just started after stopping (because I had to stop often, because I had no desire to continue going up this hill, but I did continue going because the only way I could feel good about going down the hill was if i rode all the way up it. So, I struggled up the hill, but I made it, and then I was happily going along a flat portion when I had to turn and go 2 more miles up an even steeper hill. That was even worse because I was just completely exhausted. I was ready to go home, but I also wasn’t going to quit, I had come 20 miles, I was going to finish it. And I did, I went the 2 miles up the hill.
And then, I got the joy of going down that 2 mile hill, which was great, because that was the only time I’d get to tuck into my most streamline-est position, spend a few moments pedaling my heart out and then enjoying the speed of 37mph. That just got me more excited because I knew that going down Tramway (the big hill) I’d get to go even faster. Except that my excitement turned into disappointment when I was met with a headwind.
I tucked myself, pushed my gears to the most rockstarish gear (as opposed to the granny gear I was in when I was going up the hill), and hammered away. Most the time I wasn’t even looking in front of me, I kept my head down so that I was arrow dynamic. The fastest that got me was 30mph. I could’ve coasted down that hill at 40 miles an hour if there had been no wind. So I was very bummed about the headwind. I didn’t get to go nearly as fast as I wanted to.
All in all though, the ride was a good ride. It made me realize that if I’m ever going to not mind hills that I need to train on hills so that I get better at riding hills and then I won’t mind them as much.
Whipped By A 1 Hour Bike Ride
It had been 3 days short of a month when I got on my bike this past Saturday. I was only going to ride for an hour because my knee has been bugging me and my energy has been sapped since my half marathon over a month ago.
I figured that since before I took a cycling hiatus I was able to keep up with my Outlaws for the first hour at which they’d ride between an 18-20mph pace, that I’d still be able to do it. It didn’t happen, and it was largely pathetic.
Within 15 minutes I went low and fell from the pack. Of course, I didn’t think I was low, and the low wasn’t confirmed till about 20 minutes into the ride. I went from 18 mph to 13 mph, they were all waiting for me, I pricked my finger, and ate a GU and we continued on.
I still couldn’t keep up with them, and this is where I decided it was more than just my low blood sugar, this was the consequence of not being in the saddle for almost a month.
I told Dread Pirate that I was exhausted and that I was going to fall back and she said “we’re almost there, come on, get up here” That was with like 4 miles to go.
It wasn’t the greatest ride, and it whipped me in a bad way. I’m not usually exhausted after 17 miles, this day, I was. I was just beat. I did 17 miles in an hour 7 minutes.
What I realized is that I can’t take hiatus’; it costs me. Big time.
How to get lost 101
I’ve started looking forward to my Saturday morning rides with my Outlaws. When I wake up I initially think about how I’d rather be in bed sleeping in, but once I’m up and then at our meeting place, I’m always glad that I got up and went out. It’s always good to ride with them. I build speed that way. And I always am able to keep up with them for about 10 miles (at a pace of 17-19mph) and then I get dropped off because I can’t hang onto that pace (at least not yet).
This weekend was no different. I got up, I went down and met them, had the lovely time of changing another tire because I blew mine up while pumping it (something about these tubes not liking 130psi and me not remembering that I need to stop at 120psi), and then we were on the road. I love riding in a pack with them, it’s just cool to be right behind them and have someone right beside me.
So, I was with the pack for about 8 miles, and then I got dropped, but it was all good because I could still see their jerseys. Or so I thought. At about 12 miles when the jerseys I were following turned onto a dead end road (that looked like it was a cul-de-sac that didn’t have houses around it yet) I knew I was following the wrong jerseys. I asked them if they were Outlaws and they just looked at me like I was crazy and then asked if I were part of a group and I said yes and they said, “no, we’re not your outlaws”.
So, I went back the way I had followed them, and then, not knowing where to turn, I kept going all the way back to the beginning (because that’s the only way I knew to go).
I was out for 1:44:14, I went 26.39 miles, I averaged 15.1mph, and I went a max of 22.5mph. It was a good easy spin considering I had a half marathon to run the next next day.
After I was done loading my bike, Matt (I think that’s his name) convinced me to run out and back 7 minutes each way, he said doing so will help me in my transitions during my tris so I went out and back, at an easy walk/jog pace and that was the end of my Saturday workout.
This weeks lesson was “make sure you’re following the right jerseys or you’re gonna get lost.”
Sugar Up
I went on my second training ride with the Outlaws today and I must say, compared to the first ride I rode with them, this one was soooooo much better. The blood sugars weren’t quite as well behaved as I would’ve liked them to have been (read: like during the socorro chile harvest triathlon) but they eventually straightened out and I rode a strong second half. I rode a good first quarter too, well, a good first 10 miles where I was averaging 18mph and keeping with the pack, it was during this time that I decided I liked riding in a pack, I get to draft, that was a nice feeling.
At about 10 miles, I knew my blood sugars were plummeting from the 221 that I started at. It was at this point that I started thinking that I really needed to stop every 10 miles and check my blood and eat a gel, but I kept going. The first rest stop was only a few miles ahead. In my head, I had already decided that I was done when I got to the rest stop, I just didn’t feel that I had the energy to put in the 60 mile ride that was slated for today. I had decided that I was going to be happy with 30 miles.
But then I got to the rest stop, and I told my teammates I was done and something about Dread Pirate and Flaming Mo only riding another 20 minutes further made me decide to keep going (after asking about the horrific hill of course). I checked my blood, sure enough, it had dropped to 93 and my pump was screaming at me. I downed some gel and some fluids and we were on our way.
At this point, I still didn’t have the energy to keep up with the group, it was another 10 miles before I caught up to them again, but it was ok because I had them in my sights for most of that 10 miles and when I didn’t I knew where they were headed. At one point, I could see them going up the big big big hill and they were so small that they seriously looked like ants on that hill. Having nothing better to do as I was hammering away at my 14-16mph speed, I started singing:
“the ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah, the ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah, the little one stops to chew some gum, i don’t remember the rest of the song, and they all go marching down, to the ground, to get out, of the rain. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”
The funny thing about this is that the clouds had just rolled over the mountains and the wind was threatening to knock me off my bike and the rain was coming. they looked like ants and the rain was coming. I think I’m the only one amused by this, but, hey, what can I say.
As I made it up the hill (because that was my goal at that point, to make it up the hill), I had passed the 20 mile marker, so then my goal became to go to 25 miles. It was around that point where my Outlaw buddies were waiting for me, and after telling them all about the mangled 6 ft rattlesnake that I had seen, I checked my blood and “sugared up”. Dread Pirate came up with that term. Bones asked if I were ready to go and she said “hang on, she’s sugaring up, we don’t want her to pass out while riding” to which I said “hrm, I haven’t tired that one yet” and gave a small laugh. I had come up a little from the last check, I was now 103. I had another gel and washed it down with some cytomax.
At this point, we had to head back towards town because the storm was comin and there were big rain drops falling from the sky so we crossed the overpass and headed back to where we began. I did much better on this portion of the ride than I did the first, I was riding a steady 16-18 mph, but mostly I was keeping at 16mph. When they made a turn off to add a couple more miles to their ride, I kept going straight, 50 miles total was more than enough distance for me and I was content and set into my pace at this point so it didn’t bother me that they we going to take a detour.
At the next stop made (stops were being made at about every 10 miles by this point; I can thank this stop to a flat tire one of the guys unfortunately got) my blood sugar was 134 and I was happy with it. I was so happy, that I didn’t have a gel, hindsight being 20/20, I should’ve because I went low at the end. I dropped to 76 and at the very end my energy and speed dropped with my numbers (there’s a strong correlation between the two).
Once I got past my lack of energy in the first half of the ride, things went smoothly for me. When it was all said and done, the ride was a very good ride. I maintained a good steady pace, my thoughts were fairly positive, besides deciding that I was prematurely done with the ride early on in the game, the thought that I couldn’t do the ride was never solidified in my brain. The blood sugars were ok, I wouldn’t consider them great, I do ride better when I’m in the 130 range out of all the other numbers I had, well, the 221 was ok as well I suppose, but I’ve still got to work on gaining some regularity among those numbers.
OH! and as an added bonus, something happened today that has never happened before, I had a sweat stain on the crotch area of my shorts. I was sitting and StarBucks with some teammates and I couldn’t figure out why the white stuff wouldn’t come off my shorts, and I asked what it was. I was told “Congratulations, you rode hard enough that you’ve got a sweat stain”. And then there was a conversation about sweat stains. Never in my life have I been so excited about a sweat stain.
For those who care, here’s the elevation profile of the ride (yes, I care):
And the full stats:
48 miles ridden
at 15.9 mph
with a max speed of 27.8mph (gotta love that atrocious hill I climbed, that’s really not as atrocious as it looks)
in 3 hours
Triathlete Crashes In Garage
Ok, this is very much, I dunno, karma-ish perhaps…like I said, I don’t know…well, karma isn’t the right word, but whatever the word is, it’s NOT! good!
You see, I was supposed to be cleaning my room. Mom had come home from her camping trip and she saw the state that my room was in because I (like an idiot) had left some of my nutrition for my bike rides and runs on the kitchen counter. She, like a good mom, was returning it to my room.
In the middle of my room was all my gear in a pile from the bike ride I didn’t go on, on Saturday. In another corner, was all my swim gear from the last time I’d gone swimming (not my swimsuit, just my googles, swim cap, etc). In yet another corner was my stuff for my runs. On my bed was all the clean laundry I didn’t feel like folding this morning when the dryer went off (notice, I was good enough to not leave it in the dryer). My desk was covered with papers, my window seat was scattered with race numbers and race t shirts. It didn’t bother me one bit, I knew right where everything was, it was all right where I could find it, it was all in my room, right where it belonged.
She had other feelings, my room was a pit and I was told to clean it. So, I started to clean it, but I got quickly distracted by my book Breaking Dawn (it’s the 4th book in the Twilight Series by Stephanie Meyer and between last Monday and today, I’m almost done with the whole series). She comes in and says “no wonder your room is a wreck”. Now, I couldn’t very well dispute this, because over the last week in all my free time I’ve been reading and doing nothing else. That’s all I did all weekend too, I’d read (mind you I had a good reason to do nothing but read, I had a belly ache all weekend). She tells me, “Courtney, you’d better put that book down and clean your room or I’ll clean it for you” Translation: you’d better clean your room or you’ll be coming home to nothing tomorrow except your bed if you’re lucky.
So I put my book down and looked at all my gear, my new bike shoes were sitting there, and I hadn’t tried them yet so now was as good a time as ever. I picked up all my gear that could go out to my box in my garage, and went out there. I put my gear in my box, put my front wheel on my bike and put my shoes on. I figured I’d just ride around the street a couple times and return the bike to the garage before I returned to my mole hole. I never made it out of the garage. And this is really just really stupid. I know how to ride my bike, I know how my shoes work, they were the same clips as the old ones, just new shoes.
I got on my bike, got one foot clipped in, got distracted, wasn’t paying clearly enough attention, and I turned far too quickly and the next thing I know, my left foot is unclipped and I’m falling to the right. This was the first time I’ve ever done that. I’ve fallen off my bike in other manners, but never quite like this. My foot was still attached to my bike as I hit the pavement very hard, my shoulder and hip hit the hardest.
My biggest concern though, it wasn’t me, it was my bike. I couldn’t afford to have screwed up my bike, I have a triathlon this Saturday, but guess what, I screwed up my bike, in a big way. As I got the bike off of me and managed to get my right foot unclipped I saw that my seat looked, not well, it’s scraped worse than me. My rear derailleur took a hit (it looks bent). But worse of all, was my rear brake and shift lever, it’s just not right.
See the brake lever on the left, that’s so not right, it’s too far to the left! It shouldn’t be sticking out like that. Even the seat is jacked up, it looks like it’s looking at the brake lever, like it should have squinty little eyes assessing the damage that I created because instead of cleaning my room, I decided to try out my new shoes.
I got informed, that (with a little exaggeration), in the world where I’m famous, this has scandal written all over it and tomorrow’s papers will read “Triathlete Crashes In Garage”
My Demons
Yesterday, I went on my first true training ride since being released by the doctor to return to cycling. I went with some fellow Outlaws and I knew it was going to be between a 40-50 mile ride. It wasn’t the distance that bothered me, it was the speed, I know that the Outlaws are fast and I was concerned with whether or not I’d be able to keep up with them. 18 mph was the average of the person that was going to be my rabbit. Before this ride, my idea of me working myself was 15 mph, there was a new slow person in town, ME!
When we started off, we were going about 18 mph, I held up for about 12 or so miles and then I had problems keeping up, even with me having problems keeping up, I was still going 16 mph. It was my fastest ride ever. In that respect I loved the group ride, I always hear “you get fast by riding with fast people” and then at one point I commented “one day I may be able to keep up with y’all” and S. Baboo said “you get strong by riding with strong people.” I felt bad because he’s a fast fast rider and he had slowed waaaaaaaaaaaaay down and was riding with me…
As I reflect on this ride, I could’ve pushed myself faster because I never felt the burn in my legs, I simply just didn’t have the energy, and I know why. I always know why, the blood sugars tell why, which is completely frustrating because I’d really like to have another reason about why I wasn’t pushing myself harder.
I have exactly one demon these days, and I went as far as to comment that I’m never going to be able to do an Ironman if I can’t get past my demons. My demon is diabetes. And really that’s no secret. I’d really like for it to not impede my thoughts when I’m out there doing my thing, but it enters my mind and echos all that I’ve been hearing since I got the damn disease “you can’t do that”. It pisses me off to hear those words in my head. I was hearing them at about 5 miles, I knew by my cottony mouth that my blood sugar was high, a check showed that I was 260. I thought to myself, “it’s ok, you’re going to be high, you ate that Clif bar a half hour ago and only dosed for half of it.” 20 minutes later, I was feeling worse, the voices in my head stronger, I checked, I was 278. I was going the wrong direction, I should’ve been coming down, I was pushing myself hard, I never ride at that intensity, there was no reason for my sugars to be climbing, everything I knew said that they should’ve been coming down.
At this point I was so frustrated that I took some insulin so that I’d come down. And now, looking at things in hindsight, there’s one more thing I should’ve done, I should’ve had some GU and took insulin for it. I hadn’t had any the whole ride and I’m thinking that’s another reason I was having problems keeping up, I had sapped out all my energy and never replenished it. I didn’t have any because my sugars weren’t normal, and thus, the diabetic in me said there was no reason for it. And, the diabetic in me overpowers the athlete in me, and thus, I made a big mistake.
A half hour later, my numbers were beginning to descend and I was 249. An hour and a half later, when the ride was over, I was finally in normal range, I was at 116 and I felt better than I had since getting up and getting ready for the ride.
I don’t know why I went high, I did what I’ve trained to do. I got up at 4:30 to set my basal rate to 50% of my normal intake. A half hour before the ride, I ate my CLIF bar and bolused for half the carbs. I was well hydrated. I was set, I started the ride at 198. I should’ve never gone high, but I did.
In the future, I’ll still have a GU at the 15 mile marks simply because I need it for energy. If I had had a normal blood check, I would’ve eaten one and not bolused, now I know that no matter what my sugar is, be it high or normal, I need to have one, and if I’m high, I’ll need to bolus for it.
Would I have seen that if I hadn’t had my demon in my head, maybe, but who knows, this time, I know that I’ve now learned something else to add to my books…I can’t sacrifice nutrition just because my blood sugars aren’t where I think they should be…
Ask Me Why I Ride
Never in my life have I really felt the need to just get up and do something. Of course, I have never quite felt a connection to anyone the way I did to the riders in CO during the Longmont, CO Tour de Cure that I rode in last year (even though I only had moments of conversations with them). Of all the four rides I’ve participated in, I can say with absolute surety that (even though there was that one hill that almost killed me) I most enjoyed my ride in Longmont. I cannot speak enough good stuff about the ride in Longmont, and maybe that’s why I drove up there this past weekend.
Perhaps I should from the beginning. A month or so ago I had received a newsletter from the Colorado Tour de Cure peeps that had mentioned the Expo and how they were looking for riders (especially RED Riders) to come ride on trainers during the expo because we’re the best recruiting team for other people with diabetes. I hadn’t planned on being able to go because it was too close to when I returned home from Orlando. The Denver Diabetes Expo was on Saturday, March 1st and on Thursday (leap day) Feb 29th I came home and pronounced that I was going to Denver. I was just going to do it, it was a 7 hour drive and my bike and I were going. I was going to represent my cause (and meet up with some really cool people that I met last year at the ride or didn’t meet but have been in contact with).
And so I went. I drove up Friday. Got to go to a VIP party Friday night and see important people, like Mari Ruddy, the genius behind the RED Riders. And then Saturday morning I woke up all excited, packed my backpack (did a good job of leaving my primary machine with my spare machine) and off I went to the convention center where I would ride my bike with pride and help recruit riders for the ride this year on August 23rd.
But first I met with Anne and Sara Dirkse of Team Sweet Pea for breakfast (we go way back [almost a year] and I have much to say about them so I won’t dwell on them too long here, they get their own post).
After breakfast we went off to ride, on the trainers, we were rode and rode but got no where fast (but it was still fun). When I came in, Tom asked me if I wanted to ride, and I said sure if he didn’t mind hopping off his trainer (because there were already peeps on all the trainers) he said sure and went straight to work on taking his bike off the trainer and putting mine on. While he did that, I got geared up.
When I got back, Tom had me all set up on the trainer and I was ready to ride. Sara (the Tour de Cure associate director) had a sign made up for me and I got to put it next to my bike and off I went (no where fast).
I hadn’t ridden but 15-20 minutes and I was already sweat’n. I could feel everything in every muscle. Riding at a mile high (even on “flat” ground) wasn’t easy (but I wasn’t going to let anyone know that, it wasn’t important for them to know that the only ride I had done, which happened to be in FL the week prior to this event was the only ride in the last 4 months).
It’s not like I was riding the whole time (my whole 1.25 hrs).
I took breaks:
The most important breaks were to talk to people though. It was cool for them to stop and ask why I was riding. It was cool to hear “well then, you ride for me and my mother” (or a list of other people) when I’d tell them that I ride for me, my family members with diabetes, my friends with diabetes, those I don’t know with diabetes, and those who are yet to be diagnosed with diabetes. It makes me all warm inside to know that instead of whining and complaining that I’m actually doing something to help out and it makes me even warmer inside when I can see how people appreciate what I’m doing and when they can say “you ride for me”. It’s just such a good feeling.
Beverly was my first recruit of the day. She was talking to me and telling me how she needed to ride and so I said “why don’t you sign up, it will give you motivation to get out there and start riding, that way you’ll be ready to ride in August. You can do 12 miles, I have faith in you” and she told me “you know what, you’re right” and she went over and registered and that was cool. At the end of the day she came up to me and thanked me for encouraging her to ride.
My last recruit of the day was Molly (but recruitment started around lunch time when her dad Dan was asking me questions about what I like my target range to be before riding and how I handle my blood sugars while riding). When I met Molly she was on the edge about riding, she wasn’t sure and she had to think about it. Every now and then I’d go over to the Insucozi table and talk to her. On my last trip to the table I told her “you know what Molly, if you’ll ride, I’ll ride with you” and she said ok. She and her dad came over to register at the end of the day.
There was a goal to reach 150 RED Riders by the end of the day and we went over and beyond that.
That was exciting because (and I don’t remember the exact numbers) I know we had over 100 RED Riders during last year’s ride, but we’ve exceeded what we had last year (I believe, I could be wrong).
There is a modpodge of other things that happened, but they either deserve their own post or I’ve already posted about them:
I got my 10 seconds of fame in the news:
I got to meet Joe Eldridge (one of the co-founders of Team Type 1)
I got to spend some time talking with Mari (which if you haven’t caught yet, she’s the brains behind the RED Riders)
Bob, we can’t forget Bob, he’s a really cool guy and fun to hang around (and he played photographer for me as he took some of these photos) and he’s one of the faces of the RED Riders (and Team Sweet Pea traded him for me 
more on that later, Bob, I had nothing to do with that trade, I promise)
Back In The Saddle
It’s been almost 4 months to the day since I was last on a bicycle. There’s 14 days till me next official ride. I can say right now that I’m not in the best of shape for it, can I ride the 22 miles, yeah, I can, but not at the speed that I’d like to. But that doesn’t matter does it, what matters is that I’m going to ride and I’m going to complete it, even if it does take me 2 hours at 12mph.
It was a beautiful 58 degrees F out in Albuquerque, NM today and I was determined to go for a ride, so was everyone else. Weather in Albuquerque has been nasty since November (and that’s nasty for us, not nasty compared to like some state up north who’s high is like 3 degrees F on a good day). Since it was sunny and warm (shorts weather) and there was only a slight breeze, everyone decided that a trip to the trail head was in order. It was so packed that finding a place to park was impossible unless you waited around at least a half hour for people to leave so that you could zip into their spot before someone else did.
I waited my 30 minutes, parked and got on my bike. I knew full well that I should’ve taken it easier than I did when I zipped off out of the parking lot and onto the trail, but I was just so excited to be back in the saddle again. For 4 miles, I rode at just a little above 16 mph, I was so proud of this speed, but then my lungs started to burn and my muscles in my legs started burning and if I hadn’t been clipped into my pedals, I would’ve been kicking myself for not taking it easier. At the end of that four miles I had pushed myself so hard that I thought I was going to vomit.
On my way back I was far slower than on my way to the 4 mile mark. I was just plain worn out. I hadn’t bothered to check my blood because 20 minutes prior I had dumped a cheetahbar into my belly and a box of juice (yes, I started riding while I was low, a big no-no, but I need to ride).
When I got back to my car, my blood sugar was 148 and it turns out that my piddly ride wasn’t as bad as I thought. I went 8.5 miles in 39 min 59 seconds at an average pace of 12.8 mph (which is about where I left off last year when I stopped riding, maybe even a smidgen faster), I had a max speed of 21.8 mph.
I may not be in prime shape for my ride in the Orlando, FL Tour de Cure, but I will be able to ride, and that’s all that matters.