I like to think in my non Ironman or Mommy moments, I'm a pretty logical thinker. I may do some incredibly ridiculous things, like answer Greg's query about what to do for dinner with "Mmmm, I dunno, we can either go out or stay in" or when Rob asks me what he's getting for his birthday, I reply "presents".
Although, when you think about it, both are pretty darn logical.
So, when presented with my recent bike conundrum, I knew there were steps I could take to rectify the situation. Well, really, phases if you will.
Phase 1: Collect Underpants.
Phase 2:?
Phase 3: Profit
Then when I understood I really wasn't an underwear gnome, I applied said phases to my bike phobia.
Phase 1: Get back on the bike.
Last week at the gym, two fellow triathletes persuaded me to get back on the bike. In true sense of dude-liness, dude #1 told me that it was a shame to let a kick ass bike sit in the corner while I got pissy. Dude #2 outlined a race plan for me for next year, taking into account my level of suckiness with some excellent HTFU thrown in.
I went with their advice and promptly dusted off Jess and rode her (that's my bike, you sick people.) On the trainer. Cause in my mind, that's a phase.
Phase 1: Ignore bike. Throw fit on social media. Vow to give up triathlon. ealize that this is entirely ineffective and you are better than said hissy fitting.
Phase 2: Address one part of the problem by getting back on the bike in the safest fashion possible. What IS the problem? Time to investigate.
For ride #1, I rode an hour on Zwift's watopia while watching some trash TV. The ride was easy, my legs felt good, I wasn't annoyed, but I also wasn't thrilled. Would have rather been running.
Duh. Nobody likes the trainer. It's a necessary evil for New York's shitty winters, shitty drivers, people who try to fit in Ironman training with two kids and a job, and for wusses like me that fear their bikes.
Fine, let's move on.
Phase 3: Address some of the riding fears on a less scary steed. It's Mountain bike time!
Before you roll your eyes, let me explain that I was not tree flying, bunny hopping, trickster inducing riding here. This was a simple one hour canal ride on my non clipless pedal ride with about half of it on the open road.
The verdict? Well, I hate non clipless pedals, which shocked the crap out of me. My foot kept sliding off the pedal, which was super annoying, and something I take for granted on my tri bike. I took the first half hour of the ride to assess some of the issues I was having:
1. Mount/dismount: I do this with the grace of a drunken pony. There is no escaping this. When you have clipless, you add insult to injury by trying to clip in, but I still look like a moron either way. Verdict: Go back to the tri bike. Learn to friggin clip in and out.
2. Shifting: Oh sweet mountain bike with your shifters on your handles, I love you to no end. I am no longer stuck in grind mode because I hate not steering like a grandma with my hands firmly planted on my handlebars. Verdict: Mountain.
3. Nutrition: I brought my camelbak because I don't have cages. After getting over my fear of letting go with one hand (as I assume I will just end up about 6 feet over into the road when I do this) I realized that I move...maybe an inch in the direction I take my hand off of. Auto correctable. Verdict: Tri bike.
4. Weight and fit: Don't make me laugh. My knees and butt hurt after 12 miles. TRI BIKE FTW.
5. Traffic: I encountered a few a-holes and a route that included 4 stop signs and two lights. Yes, I had to stop. Did I feel any safer on my mountain bike? Nope. As I climbed the ungodly hills on a bike easily three times the weight of my tri bike, I took my hands off the brakes realizing that if a car came at me, ummmm...I wouldn't use the anyways. I would, ya know, GET OUT OF THE WAY. Same thing with a branch or road debris. Faulty thinking on my part. Verdict: Tri Bike. You move faster and get out of the way of said motorists.
6. Beauty: After a half hour of assessing everything, I let go and appreciated the beauty around me. The fluffy clouds. The ducks in the canal. The friendly hellos of people I passed (wait, I was dong the passing???) and the breeze in my face...and even better, on my back.
Verdict? Yeah, I need to get back into this.
Phase 4:.....Getting the tri bike back out. It's coming. Even if it's in a damn parking lot. Learn to clip in and out. Learn to shift with with ease. Stay tuned!
Although, when you think about it, both are pretty darn logical.
So, when presented with my recent bike conundrum, I knew there were steps I could take to rectify the situation. Well, really, phases if you will.
Phase 1: Collect Underpants.
Phase 2:?
Phase 3: Profit
Then when I understood I really wasn't an underwear gnome, I applied said phases to my bike phobia.
Phase 1: Get back on the bike.
Last week at the gym, two fellow triathletes persuaded me to get back on the bike. In true sense of dude-liness, dude #1 told me that it was a shame to let a kick ass bike sit in the corner while I got pissy. Dude #2 outlined a race plan for me for next year, taking into account my level of suckiness with some excellent HTFU thrown in.
I went with their advice and promptly dusted off Jess and rode her (that's my bike, you sick people.) On the trainer. Cause in my mind, that's a phase.
Phase 1: Ignore bike. Throw fit on social media. Vow to give up triathlon. ealize that this is entirely ineffective and you are better than said hissy fitting.
Phase 2: Address one part of the problem by getting back on the bike in the safest fashion possible. What IS the problem? Time to investigate.
For ride #1, I rode an hour on Zwift's watopia while watching some trash TV. The ride was easy, my legs felt good, I wasn't annoyed, but I also wasn't thrilled. Would have rather been running.
Duh. Nobody likes the trainer. It's a necessary evil for New York's shitty winters, shitty drivers, people who try to fit in Ironman training with two kids and a job, and for wusses like me that fear their bikes.
 |
Fine, let's move on.
Phase 3: Address some of the riding fears on a less scary steed. It's Mountain bike time!
Before you roll your eyes, let me explain that I was not tree flying, bunny hopping, trickster inducing riding here. This was a simple one hour canal ride on my non clipless pedal ride with about half of it on the open road.
The verdict? Well, I hate non clipless pedals, which shocked the crap out of me. My foot kept sliding off the pedal, which was super annoying, and something I take for granted on my tri bike. I took the first half hour of the ride to assess some of the issues I was having:
1. Mount/dismount: I do this with the grace of a drunken pony. There is no escaping this. When you have clipless, you add insult to injury by trying to clip in, but I still look like a moron either way. Verdict: Go back to the tri bike. Learn to friggin clip in and out.
2. Shifting: Oh sweet mountain bike with your shifters on your handles, I love you to no end. I am no longer stuck in grind mode because I hate not steering like a grandma with my hands firmly planted on my handlebars. Verdict: Mountain.
3. Nutrition: I brought my camelbak because I don't have cages. After getting over my fear of letting go with one hand (as I assume I will just end up about 6 feet over into the road when I do this) I realized that I move...maybe an inch in the direction I take my hand off of. Auto correctable. Verdict: Tri bike.
 |
| Take off your IMLP sticker, ya dork. |
5. Traffic: I encountered a few a-holes and a route that included 4 stop signs and two lights. Yes, I had to stop. Did I feel any safer on my mountain bike? Nope. As I climbed the ungodly hills on a bike easily three times the weight of my tri bike, I took my hands off the brakes realizing that if a car came at me, ummmm...I wouldn't use the anyways. I would, ya know, GET OUT OF THE WAY. Same thing with a branch or road debris. Faulty thinking on my part. Verdict: Tri Bike. You move faster and get out of the way of said motorists.
6. Beauty: After a half hour of assessing everything, I let go and appreciated the beauty around me. The fluffy clouds. The ducks in the canal. The friendly hellos of people I passed (wait, I was dong the passing???) and the breeze in my face...and even better, on my back.
Verdict? Yeah, I need to get back into this.
Phase 4:.....Getting the tri bike back out. It's coming. Even if it's in a damn parking lot. Learn to clip in and out. Learn to shift with with ease. Stay tuned!
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