... %@&#$, of course, means toes.
Just for the record I'd like to say that when I made the woman scream I was notwearing my ninja sweatshirt. Sorry about the red tint on this photo, but it did
come out better than the alternative. And it wouldn't be a Claire picture if it weren't
awful.
I may complain a lot about the cold, but no one can accuse me of running from a challenge. So when Bob Almighty sent out a call on his blog to see if anyone wanted to come on one of his IM New Zealand 75 mile training rides I told him that I was man enough if he was. Of course, I was hoping that he wasn't man enough so I would be off the hook.
That was on Thursday. My internet was down on Friday, so I wasn't able to check and see if Bobby Boy was going to rock up. I took his lack of response to mean that he was chickening out, even though his silence was really due to me being incommunicado. Saturday morning I woke up and was cozily having some breakfast of plain yogurt and an apple when I stopped by Rob's page to see what sorry excuse he'd come up with for himself. I was met with a post called Freeze Your Tail Off 75 which went on to say,
When: This Saturday November 17, 2007 @ 1:30PM
Where: Lake Waramaug State Park, Warren CT
Where: Lake Waramaug State Park, Warren CT
Crap! Well I would still have one very good excuse if my mom wouldn't let me have the car. When she finally came out of her bedroom to begin a long jag of computer solitaire I ran in and asked, "Are you using the car today?!" I tried to be as chipper as possible. A chipper person is the most unpleasant thing in the world in the morning, and I hoped that if I made her irritable she would say no.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked groggily.
"Connecticut, I'll be gone all day."
"Connecticut?!" but to my dismay she went on, "Yeah, sure."
I tried to give her an out, "Are you sure?"
Yep. Now I was going to Connecticut to freeze my %@&#$ off.
In record time I got my stuff together and packed into the car. I had to make a stop at the hardware store because I'd had the brilliant idea to try to put my speed sensor on my back wheel so I could use it on my indoor trainer, and predictably it hadn't worked. The zip ties I bought were to put it back on where it belonged. Then it was off on the 3 hour drive down to Western Connecticut where Bob and Angry live.
I rolled in a little late, around 1:45 and immediately started dropping trou, while still saying hello to Rob. I was wearing long johns (actually figure skating tights) under my bike shorts under my jeans, and changed to another pair of long biking pants. Then the worst part, under my 2 turtleneck sweaters I was only wearing a skimpy workout top. The temperature was in the low 40's and I had to strip down to near nothing before I could put on my jersey and thermal ninja sweatshirt. I pulled on a second pair of socks with little yellow chickies on them, then a Red Sox beanie to go under my helmit (and some gloves that I ultimately forgot in the car), and I was dressed for success in the Freeze Your %@&#$ Off 75. Only I'd been driving for 2 hours and I really needed to leave behind some water weight. "There are some winter bathrooms over there," Rob pointed to where a crazy family was having a winter picnic. The words winter bathroom suggested heated toilet seats and bright lights for short winter days to me, but it turns out that winter bathroom is just Connecticut-speak for outhouse. By the time we got my tires pumped up, my hydration pack ready to go, etc. it was nearly 2:00.
The plan was to do 10 laps around Lake Waramaug, a 7.8 mile loop that I had seen in the Nutmeg State Sprint in August. It was significantly less green and noticeably colder than when I had been there last. Bob decided to leave the major hills out (I wasn't complaining), leaving negligible elevation change on the circuit. Most of the roads had very, very little traffic, allowing us to ride side by side and discuss the hard-hitting topics like stem cell research, gay marriage, and whether or not it's worth it to learn Latin.
The first loop my fingers were a little bit chilly (for having forgotten my full-fingered gloves in the car), but by the second lap I actually decided that it wasn't necessary to stop. Our noses were running, my lungs got sore from breathing in so much cold air, and my legs felt like they never warmed up, but other than that I didn't feel unbearably cold... I just couldn't get my legs to move right.
I was proud of myself for keeping up with Rob who looked like a pro on his sleek, new, perfectly-fitted Specialized Bitch Stomper. That is, until we came up on the old guy. About half way through the fourth lap we came up behind a guy in his late 50s sitting way up high on his brake hoods with an enormous New York Marathon windbreaker flapping in the wind. "Let's go catch that guy!" said Rob, and we took off.
As we flew by he said to me, "Do you mind if I fall in with you guys?"
"Sure," I said, "go right ahead". See, I thought that he was old and slow and we'd drop him in a minute anyway, or that he'd hang on the back or something. It was all the same to me. I definitely was not expecting him to take off and zoom past Rob at lightning speed. What happened next was not as surprising, Rob took off after him. And then I took off, sort of. I pedaled as hard as I could, but I was still by myself. I yelled encouragement and insults to myself in my head, got into my drops, kept my head down, and went as fast as I could, but they kept moving farther and farther up the road from me. Oh well, I thought, we're going around in circles, it's not like I'm going to lose them, and I relaxed the pace a bit, but not too much. I found out later that they'd reached speeds as high as 25 or 26 miles per hour and didn't feel quite so bad for not being able to keep up. And then when we got back to where the cars were parked, Rob and the old guy just let off. They slowed way down, Rob looked back for me for the first time, and the old guy got back behind us to draft for another lap. I don't think you should be able to do that, make someone hurt for a few miles and then just spin away and let them do the pulling for the rest of the day, especially if you're wearing a flappy windbreaker that could block the wind for half of Connecticut.
By this time I'd started to notice my right foot aching from the cold. But I couldn't let Rob know that I was hurting, so I cowboyed up and prepared myself for another five laps with a stiff upper lip. "It's getting kind of late, we may only be able to get in 8 laps before it gets dark," Rob said. Oh, darn it! What a shame. Three more laps was better than five, but when we finished the fifth lap and started the sixth I'd lost my other foot to the cold. Rob had just bought toe covers that afternoon, so I figured he would be fine and I decided to hold my tongue. Pain is temporary, I told myself and off we went for the sixth lap.
Towards the end of the sixth lap Rob said something like, "This may have to be our last one, it's getting close to 4:30." I had the wind in my ears, and I wasn't sure if he was referring to this lap we were on or the next one being the last. I figured it was better to assume that he meant we'd do one more, and then maybe be pleasantly surprised. I was pleasantly surprised. "My toes are freezing!" he said when we got back to the cars and started to pack up. "I should have worn a second pair of socks."
"I was thinking I should have bought toe covers like you," I admitted.
I sat shivering in my car with the heater on full blast while Rob finished packing up the rest of his stuff. He was waddling his toes were so cold.
In the end we only covered 39.5 miles in 2 hours and 15 minutes. I was surprised to hear that we'd averaged 17.4 miles per hour over the course of the afternoon. Since my legs never properly warmed up and we'd been talking easily I'd felt like we were hardly moving. I couldn't believe the speeds Rob had clocked off with Old Guy. It was shorter than either of us would have wanted, and we both felt that we could have kept going, but riding in the cold is twice as tiring, and we were glad to be getting out of there.
We drove to get the most exquisite hot chocolate I've ever had. As I was driving and the blood started to return to my butt it started to actually feel colder. My theory is that my butt had frozen solid, and it wasn't until it started to thaw that the new blood could get to the nerve endings and make them realize they were freezing to death. We stood shivering in Dunkin' Donuts trying to warm up enough to walk back out to the car. We tried to come up with a way to stay warmer next time. "My pants are fleecy on the inside. They're really warm," said Rob. "Here, feel!" he said holding out his waistband.
"All of you's fleecy, Rob, I'm not reaching down your pants." Rob's a furry guy. In the parking lot it was time to brave stripping down to change clothes again. This time it was even colder because the sun was down and I started shivering so violently when I got down to my bottom layer that I dropped my phone on the pavement.
We then went to chez Angry where I met Angry Sr. and his fat pitbull mutt. "You're too fat to run, aren't you, boy?" Angry cooed. "You wanna do some stability strength? Wanna do some clean jerks? Huh? You wanna do some clean jerks?" The dog was so pleased when Rob started to pet him that he couldn't lay down fast enough and smacked his head on the floor. Angry had spent the whole day installing insulation for a tax break. Apparently running just isn't doing it for him anymore (hence deleting every post on his blog), but installing insulation really got his rocks off. I'm not kidding, he was really jazzed about this insulation.
We then went out to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Rob and I sat and talked tri-geek while Angry sat back, cool as a cucumber scoping out the waitresses for future breadwinners and mothers of his babies. I learned Angry's type: tramp. I admitted to Rob that one of my goals in life was to beat any one of his running or tri times once in my life. That's me, aiming high. Any of his existing slowest times seem impossible, so I hope he's a crappy ironman so I'll get a snowball's chance in hell of making a PB and beating the worst time he manages to clock in his career.
The conversation inevitably turned back to what it was like to be freezing. Bob told a story about a time that Ken Schultz had nearly frozen his %@&#$ off in an open water swim (that kind of thing doesn't happen to me, duh...) and explained, "I'm a lot heftier than he is..."
"Rob, I've been staring at your ass for two hours. You're not hefty!" I insisted.
Finally, after a very nice visit (altough somewhat of an impulse, and quite frigid), it was time to drive the 3 hours back home. Driving home I thought of how much fun I'd had with the boys and decided that this blog was probably the best decision (indeed, the only good decision) I've made in the past year.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked groggily.
"Connecticut, I'll be gone all day."
"Connecticut?!" but to my dismay she went on, "Yeah, sure."
I tried to give her an out, "Are you sure?"
Yep. Now I was going to Connecticut to freeze my %@&#$ off.
In record time I got my stuff together and packed into the car. I had to make a stop at the hardware store because I'd had the brilliant idea to try to put my speed sensor on my back wheel so I could use it on my indoor trainer, and predictably it hadn't worked. The zip ties I bought were to put it back on where it belonged. Then it was off on the 3 hour drive down to Western Connecticut where Bob and Angry live.
I rolled in a little late, around 1:45 and immediately started dropping trou, while still saying hello to Rob. I was wearing long johns (actually figure skating tights) under my bike shorts under my jeans, and changed to another pair of long biking pants. Then the worst part, under my 2 turtleneck sweaters I was only wearing a skimpy workout top. The temperature was in the low 40's and I had to strip down to near nothing before I could put on my jersey and thermal ninja sweatshirt. I pulled on a second pair of socks with little yellow chickies on them, then a Red Sox beanie to go under my helmit (and some gloves that I ultimately forgot in the car), and I was dressed for success in the Freeze Your %@&#$ Off 75. Only I'd been driving for 2 hours and I really needed to leave behind some water weight. "There are some winter bathrooms over there," Rob pointed to where a crazy family was having a winter picnic. The words winter bathroom suggested heated toilet seats and bright lights for short winter days to me, but it turns out that winter bathroom is just Connecticut-speak for outhouse. By the time we got my tires pumped up, my hydration pack ready to go, etc. it was nearly 2:00.
The plan was to do 10 laps around Lake Waramaug, a 7.8 mile loop that I had seen in the Nutmeg State Sprint in August. It was significantly less green and noticeably colder than when I had been there last. Bob decided to leave the major hills out (I wasn't complaining), leaving negligible elevation change on the circuit. Most of the roads had very, very little traffic, allowing us to ride side by side and discuss the hard-hitting topics like stem cell research, gay marriage, and whether or not it's worth it to learn Latin.
The first loop my fingers were a little bit chilly (for having forgotten my full-fingered gloves in the car), but by the second lap I actually decided that it wasn't necessary to stop. Our noses were running, my lungs got sore from breathing in so much cold air, and my legs felt like they never warmed up, but other than that I didn't feel unbearably cold... I just couldn't get my legs to move right.
I was proud of myself for keeping up with Rob who looked like a pro on his sleek, new, perfectly-fitted Specialized Bitch Stomper. That is, until we came up on the old guy. About half way through the fourth lap we came up behind a guy in his late 50s sitting way up high on his brake hoods with an enormous New York Marathon windbreaker flapping in the wind. "Let's go catch that guy!" said Rob, and we took off.
As we flew by he said to me, "Do you mind if I fall in with you guys?"
"Sure," I said, "go right ahead". See, I thought that he was old and slow and we'd drop him in a minute anyway, or that he'd hang on the back or something. It was all the same to me. I definitely was not expecting him to take off and zoom past Rob at lightning speed. What happened next was not as surprising, Rob took off after him. And then I took off, sort of. I pedaled as hard as I could, but I was still by myself. I yelled encouragement and insults to myself in my head, got into my drops, kept my head down, and went as fast as I could, but they kept moving farther and farther up the road from me. Oh well, I thought, we're going around in circles, it's not like I'm going to lose them, and I relaxed the pace a bit, but not too much. I found out later that they'd reached speeds as high as 25 or 26 miles per hour and didn't feel quite so bad for not being able to keep up. And then when we got back to where the cars were parked, Rob and the old guy just let off. They slowed way down, Rob looked back for me for the first time, and the old guy got back behind us to draft for another lap. I don't think you should be able to do that, make someone hurt for a few miles and then just spin away and let them do the pulling for the rest of the day, especially if you're wearing a flappy windbreaker that could block the wind for half of Connecticut.
By this time I'd started to notice my right foot aching from the cold. But I couldn't let Rob know that I was hurting, so I cowboyed up and prepared myself for another five laps with a stiff upper lip. "It's getting kind of late, we may only be able to get in 8 laps before it gets dark," Rob said. Oh, darn it! What a shame. Three more laps was better than five, but when we finished the fifth lap and started the sixth I'd lost my other foot to the cold. Rob had just bought toe covers that afternoon, so I figured he would be fine and I decided to hold my tongue. Pain is temporary, I told myself and off we went for the sixth lap.
Towards the end of the sixth lap Rob said something like, "This may have to be our last one, it's getting close to 4:30." I had the wind in my ears, and I wasn't sure if he was referring to this lap we were on or the next one being the last. I figured it was better to assume that he meant we'd do one more, and then maybe be pleasantly surprised. I was pleasantly surprised. "My toes are freezing!" he said when we got back to the cars and started to pack up. "I should have worn a second pair of socks."
"I was thinking I should have bought toe covers like you," I admitted.
I sat shivering in my car with the heater on full blast while Rob finished packing up the rest of his stuff. He was waddling his toes were so cold.
In the end we only covered 39.5 miles in 2 hours and 15 minutes. I was surprised to hear that we'd averaged 17.4 miles per hour over the course of the afternoon. Since my legs never properly warmed up and we'd been talking easily I'd felt like we were hardly moving. I couldn't believe the speeds Rob had clocked off with Old Guy. It was shorter than either of us would have wanted, and we both felt that we could have kept going, but riding in the cold is twice as tiring, and we were glad to be getting out of there.
We drove to get the most exquisite hot chocolate I've ever had. As I was driving and the blood started to return to my butt it started to actually feel colder. My theory is that my butt had frozen solid, and it wasn't until it started to thaw that the new blood could get to the nerve endings and make them realize they were freezing to death. We stood shivering in Dunkin' Donuts trying to warm up enough to walk back out to the car. We tried to come up with a way to stay warmer next time. "My pants are fleecy on the inside. They're really warm," said Rob. "Here, feel!" he said holding out his waistband.
"All of you's fleecy, Rob, I'm not reaching down your pants." Rob's a furry guy. In the parking lot it was time to brave stripping down to change clothes again. This time it was even colder because the sun was down and I started shivering so violently when I got down to my bottom layer that I dropped my phone on the pavement.
We then went to chez Angry where I met Angry Sr. and his fat pitbull mutt. "You're too fat to run, aren't you, boy?" Angry cooed. "You wanna do some stability strength? Wanna do some clean jerks? Huh? You wanna do some clean jerks?" The dog was so pleased when Rob started to pet him that he couldn't lay down fast enough and smacked his head on the floor. Angry had spent the whole day installing insulation for a tax break. Apparently running just isn't doing it for him anymore (hence deleting every post on his blog), but installing insulation really got his rocks off. I'm not kidding, he was really jazzed about this insulation.
We then went out to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Rob and I sat and talked tri-geek while Angry sat back, cool as a cucumber scoping out the waitresses for future breadwinners and mothers of his babies. I learned Angry's type: tramp. I admitted to Rob that one of my goals in life was to beat any one of his running or tri times once in my life. That's me, aiming high. Any of his existing slowest times seem impossible, so I hope he's a crappy ironman so I'll get a snowball's chance in hell of making a PB and beating the worst time he manages to clock in his career.
The conversation inevitably turned back to what it was like to be freezing. Bob told a story about a time that Ken Schultz had nearly frozen his %@&#$ off in an open water swim (that kind of thing doesn't happen to me, duh...) and explained, "I'm a lot heftier than he is..."
"Rob, I've been staring at your ass for two hours. You're not hefty!" I insisted.
Finally, after a very nice visit (altough somewhat of an impulse, and quite frigid), it was time to drive the 3 hours back home. Driving home I thought of how much fun I'd had with the boys and decided that this blog was probably the best decision (indeed, the only good decision) I've made in the past year.
5 comments:
TRAMP?!?!?!? Thanks a lot!!!
I think you're talking about the girl we saw when we first came in with too much makeup...not the waitress because she didn't look trampish to me. See...SHE has to look good so the kids aren't ugly. It's very simple...
A long bike ride in the cold on a whim - very inspiring! I'm still riding it out on my trainer in the kitchen watching the Today show. But I did just find my shoe covers yesterday, so maybe that's a sign that I should get outside...
Oh so fun to freeze your effing toes down to the bones.
Hope you've warmed up by now.
Nice job. You are a tough chick. I have happily accepted that it is trainer season. Well, maybe not happily but it beats freezing your $%^% off. :)
Ninja...i think you wear it all the time. In fact I think you are lying about not wearing it the other night when you were running...i'm just say'n
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