Bagged. Beat. Hammered. A few days of crap sleep and bizarre dreams have left me drained. Barely have my eyes open. A smart man would close this thing and go to sleep. Luckily for you (or not), I’m not a smart man.
As a certified data junky, I use a number of different data analysis tools to look at my rides – the ubiquitous Strava, Garmin Training Center software, their online site, Garmin Connect and of course being a spreadsheet junky – Excel. Each of these provides something that the other doesn’t – Strava the ability to precisely compare your performance on a given route or portion. Training Center allows me to look at how much time I’m spending in the various heart rate zones. From the Garmin Connect site, I can sort and examine my rides by almost any sorting or filter I want. Of course Excel is far and away the most powerful of the bunch with perhaps the exception of Strava’s GPS routing ability but it’s also the most arduous to use. Yet with all that at my fingertips, it was something much simpler that gave me the information I wanted.
I dislike hills so I seek them out. On Saturday and Sunday rides, or evening commutes if the wind, legs and schedule are all in agreement, I head north and west for the sole purpose of tackling that which I hate. Hills. Actually that’s not entirely true – I like downhills, just not so much the up portion. I ride along the golf course in Panarama, looking south and feeling impressed with myself that I was down there a couple of minutes ago as I try desperately to control my heaving and panting. I’ll climb up 14th street and Macewan Glen to Macewan Way to Macewan Park, Nose Hill.
I understand, they’re not big hills – not categorized climbs but they still break out the sweat in me. Like getting fat, or losing weight one supposes, change is gradual. You ride the same routes over and over and it all feels the same except on those rare days when the planets have aligned and one fairly flies effortlessly along. I worried, a lot, that my new Ridley would humble me and point out my poor condition, my weak legs, my inefficient lungs. I was convinced that I needed to toss the stock drivetrain in exchange for one designed for a fully-loaded touring bike lugging heavy loads up interminably steep hills. Then something happened.
Despite all of those analysis tools, I didn’t note any improvement in my hill climbing. Perhaps it was the realization that no matter how poor I felt, I was certain I wasn’t going to end up pushing. Or the weight loss. Conditioning. All of the above. Suddenly I was climbing the dreaded home hill 2 cogs higher, and I do mean suddenly. One day I’m climbing in 4th, the next in 6th. I headed out on the weekend thinking about my gearing conundrum and decided I’d not drop below 5th in my usual grinding along 3rd or 4th selection. I approached the hills determined – no trying, no maybe, just do or do. No do not.
It worked! I did. I suffered, I wheezed and I lost a liter or two of water along the way, but I did it. I could do it after all. I headed for my old commuting nemesis – the Fox golf course climb. It’s not steep, it’s just a long steady haul that seemed to defeat me daily. I always rode it all but it seemed to go on forever. The change in the pathway this spring meant I hadn’t ridden it once this season. If I really was stronger, it would show here. I rounded the final bend in anticipation, pedaling hard and waiting for the work to start. In no time at all, it was over and gone. I’d crushed it! Turns out the ‘Cross bike gearing will be just fine.
Little changes, little adaptations, imperceptible growth. I wonder how long I could have climbed in that gear? How long has my perception held me from trying? Talk about your limiting belief, right there, in the flesh. I believe it was Henry Ford who said “whether you believe you can, or that you can’t, you are correct”.
What’s holding you back?