Zen and the Art of Speedskating

Armies of snails inhabit our neighborhood, and as I walk the dog in 7am morning sun, they are out in their slimy battalions everywhere. They leave a calligraphy of silver tracks sparkling along sidewalk, notes in an alien language? Hieroglyphics? My fortune written out by creatures I crush underfoot in brief moments of daydreaming inattention?

My heart was pounding with tiredness, my right knee is stinging (not the old injury, this is new abuse) How the hell am I going to complete my job/workout today? We are riding straight up some insane Wasatch mountain climb for… ummmm, a long long way…

I ride to the meeting place for the group, even the slightest rises of downtown Salt Lake make me labor out of the saddle, my heart is thudding along like a jackhammer into my sodden willpower. I call myself an athlete? Ugh!!

But there is nothing like seeing a group of like minded crazed souls, many of them also tired from hard training, to make the soul brighten, (coffee helps too, I was drinking as I was riding!) and shortly I was hammering up the grades of emigration canyon behind 210lbs of hill climbing bike cracking power that is the Kirk Fogdall express.
An hour and a half of climbing later, and after something like 3,000 feet of vertical gain, our group arrived at the top of the Wasatch range. The view was as stunning as the climb was hard, at one point I had about 25 minutes straight climbing with my HR pegged at 188, pounding my easiest gear at about 70rpm. Kirk & Eric Krann did the climb so fast they made the rest of us look silly, but the pain is the same for all of us, no matter the speed.

The view at the top was stunning! The winding valley fell away below, with the countless switchbacks and straights we had ascended visible, and the teeth of snow capped mountains surrounding like the jaws of long dead reason-killed gods & titans.

Getting to the top of a climb like this is not just a pure measure of being fit, but its also about determination, and not just determination on today’s ride, but determination built up over years of repeated self-challenging, & getting the better of doubt gnawing away at your willpower. Although I am doing my best impression of roadkill in our group shot, my spirit was soaring (maybe endorphins? Altitude sicknesss/euphoria).

As slow as am going up, I am wicked fast pointing down. The group left the mountain-top in ones and twos, I waited a minute after the last one left, and then used every pound of bodyweight & spin I have to fly down off the mountain, howling with glee through the switchbacks. From years of bicycle racing, I know that fine line between “death” & “more fun” and I can confidently stand on the edge & smile. I caught and passed everyone, except the “lightning rod” herself, Eva Rodansky. The road pointed upward for one final 10 minute climb, and I threw it all into the effort, chasing her in big gears. Eva recently posted on her blog, her top 10 favorite offspring songs; here are some of her favorite lyrics

When the wind blows
I’ll lean into the wind.
My anger grows
I’ll use it to win.”

Yeah, that is Eva, She was using every ounce of rage on that final climb, as she told me later, she was thinking about all the girls she is gonna beat at Olympic trials, and I could not close any distance on her, she was riding inspired (and will probably ride that rage all the way to the Olympics too). About 500 meters from the top, I hear the whoosh-woosh of tires, a qwadzilla figure riding a bike out of the saddle blows by me, its Kirk, and he has ridden this whole last steep climb IN THE BIG RING!!! But 500 meters to go is Andrew-land, so I kick it up 4 gears, accelerate, and pass him at the summit as we both hoot & holler across the final hilltop, yelling for sheer love of this crazy thing that we do.

Later, after parting company with everyone at the parking lot, riding home I found myself humming the Bob Marley tune “redemption song”, but since I don’t really know the song well, I smooshed the lyrics around to fit my mood.

Won’t you hear me sing
On these climbs to freedom-
they’re all I ever have:
Redemption songs;

Looking at my HR data later, 3 hours & 21 minutes of riding time, averaging 166 beats per minute (max of 197, probably at that sprint with Kirk) that’s 33,366 beats of redemption.

Filed under: sweat