December 21, 2010

You get up at 4am? Yes, I am training for an Ironman

My outfit
I am wearing a 303 Vodka Bandanna which reads est. Since we’ve been drinking on my head. I have on a long sleeve running shirt (freebie from a marathon, which skirts up my back as we ride),  a bright orange running windbreaker and running socks with smiley faces on them. The garage sale runner turned cyclist look.

Her outfit
She is sponsored—head to toe. She is a Professional cyclist, 5’ 8”. Her legs, which would make a superhero jealous, are astride her Felt Bicycle, wearing a single outfit, provided by her sponsor. Her Felt jersey and shorts are fitting a NASCAR race car, with over forty sponsorships ads.

The ride
Her perfect bike legs, muscles fine tuned for the sport, greet me for our ride east from the foothills. About fifteen miles out into the countryside, crossing farmland and open space, she looks at her heart rate monitor—it was only 140.

What was he thinking?
Exercise means I can enjoy a DropKick Stout in the evening.  A hoppy stout may not be a recognized carbo-loading method for cyclists or tri-athletes, but it pairs well with a tempeh reuben.

I do not need a computer on my wrist to record my bike ride or every waking moment, rather I enjoy the views of the mountains, snow on the higher peaks and the funny nod and wave you get from passing bikers.

Biking at a speed where you are sucking wind and can not hold a conversation seems much better as a solo activity. I was on to something.

What was she thinking?
She was not on her bike for a quick calorie burn for beer, she wanted intensity married with serious exertion, especially on the climbs. With a heart rate of only 140 she was not in her target heart rate zone (THR) and her exertion state was no higher than a jog up the stairs.

The faster outfit
She still had time to get in her cardio work. That single glance at her heart rate monitor meant the end of the couples ride. I have never been dusted by a glance at a heart rate monitor.

What started as a quiet Saturday morning ride and relaxing chat turned into practice, exercise and an adrenaline boost. She climbs the hill solo as I continue to marvel at the dust on the peaks near the divide. I look back to the road and her logos are quickly out of site.

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