Metric Century!

Since my surgery I have changed my exercise habits. I used to do some form of intense exercise (running, rowing, etc.) every other day, with recovery days in between. Now I exercise almost every day, and generally for a longer duration, but the exercise is less intense. But sometimes I still push it.

I am not a fast cyclist, nor will I ever be one, but I have been curious about what kind of distance I can bike if I put myself to the test. Last month I had a 43 mile day when I participated in the VASA ride. Yesterday I decided to see if I could push that a little bit: to 50 miles, and maybe to a "metric century" (100 km, or 62 miles). I started from home and planned a 25 mile ride west, which would get me back home with a round trip distance of 50 miles (plus had ways to get home by Metro if I pooped out early). Then, if I felt like I still had some gas in the tank when I got home, I'd head east down to the bottom of the W&OD trail, and that extra round-trip would take me to 62 miles.

I have to say, I was inspired by two cyclists I chatted with at a happy hour on Weds night: one a breast cancer survivor, and the other a 30-something (or thereabouts) woman with a jaw-dropping history of serious medical conditions who is a healthy and powerful mountain bike racer. The two of them have said "F*ck you" to their diseases and have gotten on with life.

Here's how my ride went:

7:00 AM - Planned start time. Busy emailing - I just can't seem to get out the door on time if I don't have a hard deadline.

7:30 - Still puttering around the house.

8:00 - Actual start time.

9:20 - Bathroom break at Bready Park in Herndon. Also take time to adjust the seat on my bike to try and dial in the fit a little (this is the first long ride on a new bike)

9:30 - The seat is really uncomfortable. Stop again to re-adjust. Much better.

10:25 Reach my turn-around point, cleverly timed so my turning point is also where I take my first real break - to dial into a 10:30 conference call for work. Use the five minutes I have left before the call to turn around and bike back a little to a spot where I had seen a covered park bench - a good place to take the call.

10:30 - Dial into the call.

10:40 - See an older guy walking along the trail a few hundred feet away suddenly keel over and disappear into the small gully alongside the trail. Should I drop the call and run over to help!? Two other cyclists closer to him have seen it too and stop to offer aid. They help the guy up. He seems alright.

10:50 - The guy continues his walk and when he gets to where I am, sits down on the bench where I'm talking. When my call finishes I talk to him for a bit. He's OK - just lost his balance while leaning over to look at a a turtle alongside the trail. He was very concerned that the turtle was going to try and cross the trail and get smushed.

10:55 - He continues east. I bike west to where the turtle is to have a look. The poor thing is all up in its shell. I turn around and as I pass the guy I tell him the turtle is OK, just apparently frightened. He's still concerned about the turtle crossing the trail. We part ways and I start my ride back in earnest.

11:30 - I stop at Green Lizard Cycling / Coffee shop alongside the trail in Herndon and have an iced non-fat decaf latte (such is my life - no caffeine, no fat, no fun) and a Stroopwafel (after checking the packages of all the flavors to see which one has the least fat).

12:15 PM - Lunch break at the Whole Foods alongside the trail in Vienna (salad, Asian noodles, iced green tea - which might have had some caffeine). Continue riding east ...

1:30 - Back at my starting point. 50 miles done. Continue? Yes!! Carefully watching the trip odometer on my bike computer, I ride just far enough down the trail to ensure a round trip of 62 miles.

1:55 - Reach final turnaround point.

2:00 - Another coffee break. Decaf double espresso and a chocolate chip cookie (a real indulgence!). Continue onto the final leg. It's a hot afternoon and I tell the barista my grandfather's theory that you should drink hot drinks on hot days to cool yourself off (drinking a hot drink makes you perspire more, and perspiration cools you off).

2:48 - Arrive home. As I pull into the driveway my mileage reads 62.2, which means I have ridden 100.1 km.

Talking business

3:00 - Valerie arrives home and I when I tell her about my ride I get that "I'm so happy you're this healthy again" / "You're a lunatic" combination look I know all too well.

3:30 - I am in the bath, soaking my sore muscles (and something else I won't elaborate on here).

4:00 - Nap

4:30- I begin calculating how to step up my mileage on subsequent rides to get me to a full "century" (100 miles).

The next morning: I awaken feeling fine. Not really sore, except for the previously unmentioned problem. Spend a few hours doing yard work without any ill effect. F*ck you, heart disease - I'm charting a path to a century ride.



Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/1549534371

Skiing the W&OD

Dressed for cold, windy weather

Yes, today was one of those occasional days (maybe once every other year) when there's enough snow to ski the W&OD trail. We just got about four inches of snow (the forecast was 6-10), which is about the bare minimum to ski. It was also enough to close the Federal government yesterday and give us a telework option today. I would have gone out and skied first thing this morning but it was a soul-cleansing five degrees with wind gusts to 40 MPH when I got up. I went outside at 6 AM and shoveled the walk but had to retreat indoors pretty quickly. By 11 AM it had warmed up to a fun-loving 16 degrees, was sunny and the wind had dropped off somewhat, and so I bundled up and headed for the trail.

I drove the couple of blocks down to the park, where I strapped on my skis. The field at Madison Manor Park was nearly pristine, but the W&OD itself was a mess of tracks and footprints. Biking in foul weather has become a thing these days and so it was no surprise to see a number of bicycle tracks through the snow. I don't know for certain but it wouldn't surprise me if some of those tracks belonged to Cyndi and my neighbor Steve C. Still, particularly by sticking by the sides of the trail I found plenty of snow to ski in, except for under the dreaded overpasses.

Not pristine, but definitely skiable

 My cross-country skis are older than my record player. They're older than my VCR and my cassette player too (yes, I own all these things). As a result I'm not too worried about them when I have to gingerly pick my way across the bare patches of pavement where the W&OD trail passes under roads, such as Patrick Henry Drive. Yes, when I do that I'm probably wearing what little is left of the "fish scales" off the bottom and every time I plant a pole it hits the pavement underneath the snow, further dulling its point - but any use I get out of my Carter-era equipment at this point is gravy.

When there's four inches of snow on the ground you ski because you want to ski, not because you have to. Of the three people I saw out on the trail, two were running and one was walking - and none of them were having trouble negotiating the terrain.

I skied as far as Wilson Boulevard and then turned around (I was time limited because I really was trying to keep my outing to lunch break length). Outbound I felt perfectly dressed in layers consisting of a t-shirt, thermal waffle shirt, wool sweater and fleece jacket. My hands were a little cold (despite ski gloves and liners) but I was otherwise comfy. I should mention that I was also wearing a face mask and a silk neck gaiter (inherited from my father-in-law) pulled up over my face. On the way back I was skiing into the wind and every gust went right through me. I found myself wishing I had included more of a wind blocker layer. It was pretty chilly going and I was happy when I got back to the car.

I wore my heart rate monitor and discovered when I got back that I had been clocking a very steady 125 BPM heart rate except when I stopped. That's lower than what I register when running, but much more steady. Interesting.