Passion for the sport notwithstanding, there are a couple of challenges inherent in the aging bike-rider scenario. Ignoring for the moment the entirely obvious fact that the middle-aged physique demands the retirement of lycra, there are also the problems of waning muscle mass, extended injury recovery time, brittle bones, chronic tendonitis, and, for whatever obscure mystery as yet unraveled by mankind, an increasingly large ass. While these issues are, to some degree, mitigated by the middle-aged financial stability which enables purchasing a lighter frame, better components, slimming cycling wear and a photo-shop program that downsizes one's ass two sizes with the click of a mouse, we are by no means talking about a wash.
It would seem, as well, that fate is not always fair. While I may suffer miserably from the indignities of middle-age, appearances indicate that the man known simply as Geoff is rather more immune to aging than I am. I will not for a moment suggest that I have ever been able to keep up with my husband on a bike. Even in my best days, the man known simply as Geoff would reach the summit of a pass long before I would. Generally, I would arrive some time after he had caught his breath, admired the view, finished his lunch, completely stripped and rebuilt his bike, and was half-way through Tolstoy. Geoff's fascination with photography can be largely attributed to the fact that he had to find a hobby to fill his time while he waited for me to catch up on the trail. More recently, I am thinking that he may have to take up pin-head painting or building ships in bottles. In short, the performance gap is increasing at a disproportionate rate.
 |
| Photo credit Geoff Playfair (taken by telephoto from the top of the next pass) |
As I witness this phenomenon, it occurs to me that my standard approach of 'rest now, train later' is perhaps a determining factor. I immediately make a firm commitment to myself to undertake a rigorous winter training program. I have to be honest, though, I'm not really the 'self commitment' type. No - I'm more of the 'I'll definitely think a lot about committing to this, but I might not be as keen to actually get started' type. This year, however, is different. This year I will not be shivering on the trail, peering through the first snowflakes of the season at the man known simply as Geoff and saying, 'I think I am finally in shape'.
And so I plot my training course. Clearly, the stationary bike trainer will figure heavily into the program.
Several hours of pumping tires, removing skewers, finding shoes, raising the seat, lowering the seat and flicking through three hundred channels to find something other than 'Ice Road Truckers Season 14' to entertain me, and I am finally ready to spin.
Wow - this is great. Pulse red-lining, sweat pouring from my brow, nether parts chafed, hamstrings crying for mercy - what a workout - boy if I can keep putting in the hours on this thing, I will be a veritable iron woman by May!!! Looking to do, say, 40 minutes today, maybe an hour given how good I feel? Time check - wait...what the hell...??? - I've only been on this tortuous contraption for FOUR minutes?.. FOUR MINUTES??? Something must wrong with the clock. Double check with the other clock. Nope. Four minutes. (I consider an unwelcome perspective - it takes five minutes to pedal up the driveway and to the closest trailhead).
Yaaaa - so this isn't going to be that easy. But neither is the first epic of the season. I'm no quitter - tough it out - keep pedalling. Time? Six minutes - excellent - well - don't want to overdo it on the first day. Maybe I'd best call it quits and do some stretches. Yoga. That's it - I should probably do some yoga. Work on my core. Then I'll lift some weights to ramp up the upper body strength.
Here's the thing, though - I don't actually know much about yoga. And anyone recall the secret location of the weights? (I remember putting them somewhere and thinking 'will I remember where I put these?'). So - two 'salutations to the sun' and a prolonged shavasana (which exhibited such a devotion to mediative stillness it could well have been mistaken for a nap) and I am done. Oh ya - and an 'ohm' thrown in for good measure - makes it authentic, right? Not exactly the rigorous workout I had intended, but, hey... it's months 'till bike season, right? I have plenty of time to shape up - really, there is no rush. And the human machine known simply as Geoff? Well, he's been waiting for me for thirty years - why change things now?
