Life and Other Stuff

The atmosphere of race events is contagious, invigorating and like nothing else. From bootcamp, half marathons and biathlons in Hawaii, a sprint triathlon in Washington, military 5k and 10k races on base, to Warrior dashes and even a Tough Mudder event – all of these things are fitness fun that, as an adult, I have marveled at my ability to do. I am never the fastest, nor the slowest, but I train and show up, even if I’m petrified. The victory is always there, just across the finish line.

The usual M.O. is to sign up for something, historically it’s a friend encouraging me to do so, I get scared, but show up anyway. Then surprise myself by being able to do what once seemed impossible. (So many posts about this here, here, and here. 😂 What can I say? It’s a recurring theme.)

It’s been a minute since I’ve run a race or completed any sort of fitness event. The pandemic of course shut things down and while living in Washington, where it gets dark at 3:30 in the afternoon in the dead of winter, training and physical activity tended toward the indoors. Of course, the Peloton platform was an ideal fit. I jumped right into to the cult club! Ask most folks who ride or row or run regularly on a Peloton and you will likely get a heartfelt response from a devotee of the brand. I am no different. Digital badges and community – all virtual and all from the comfort of our living rooms and garages?! Yes, please! In person events aren’t inherently better than virtual ones, just different. Both have pros and cons. After seeing my son compete in his first few cross country meets, I felt that camaraderie and infectious energy full force!

Community is a key component to the Peloton experience. Any interest you can think of, there’s likely a Peloton group associated with it. One of my groups that I ride with regularly is a sober group. As much as I love live/in person events, the team effort and generosity this pack of strangers I’ve never met in real life have become real support. We have teams for PowerZone challenges. We ride at set times when we are able. We slap each other’s faces while riding, doling out copious amounts of virtual high fives and hands on each other’s backs. Riding, running, lifting and encouraging each other in our fitness, and our sobriety, is awe-inspiring.

Then there’s other events. Distance, climbing and running paired with the Peloton, Summit events are weekend to week-long feats of endurance. I’ve done the Pelofondo, as the distance event is called, a couple of times. You set a mileage distance goal and have a weekend to achieve it. It was the way I completed my first century ride. The current Summit challenge is the climb. I’ve never done a climb event before. I signed up for the last one and then backed out as I was in the middle of another challenge, and let’s face it, there’s only so many hours in the day. I’m a busy mom. I have errands to run and dogs to walk and meals to make and laundry to do….and ….and…

Climbing freaks me out.

I don’t know why. I have it in my head that I like fast and flat rides and I’m a low and slow endurance athlete. I’m not a sprinter. These are the things I have rattling around in my brain, setting unfounded limits. It’s where my brain goes by default. I signed up anyway because the rest of this awesome community that I’m a part of is also doing it. I don’t want to miss out.

And …what if I can?

One of the instructors rode up the actual Haleakala volcano on a fixed gear bike a few years ago and set up 5 – 60 min Climb classes simulating that ride. Some folks have strung together all 5 classes and completed them all in one go. It was something on the to do list, but never got around to it. One of the mountains to simulate in this challenge is also the Haleakala climb. It’s 10,000 vertical feet. It’s also the smallest of the mountains to choose from in this challenge. Coincidence? Of course not. SIGN ME UP!

Sadly one of the 5 Haleakala classes has been purged and is no longer available. Stacking the remaining 4 climb classes with a few others to make up the difference, I’m now half way up the volcano, 1-2 hours each day. (Luckily we have 6 days to do this event!)

When I signed up for this event, I signed up as an intermediate. I figure I’ve been riding long enough. Sure, I’m an intermediate.

“But, it’s a climb. Are you sure you’re really that level?” the crap-talking voice in my head asks, slightly sneering in that ‘Bless your heart’ sort of way.

I do the first class and the system knocks me back to beginner status. Sigh. “See, I told you,” Crap Voice says.

So maybe I’m really not much of a climber. That’s fine. I will virtually climb these 10,000 feet and I will never have to do this again. Get the badge. Check. Done.

“But…maybe?” Curiosity whispers.

Second climb gets done. Based on the metrics of that ride, the system elevated up to intermediate. 60 minutes of one foot in front of the other, slow and steady – pedaling through mud, my legs clawed their way up a level. When I saw that I burst into tears. On a stationary bike. In my living room.

Fitness and sports are so dramatic!

Elated by this new intermediate status, I set up the next rides to be done the following day and proceeded to stretch. (2 hours on a bike – stretching, foam rolling and more stretching is just what the doctor ordered!!)

This morning I walked the dogs to warm up and see how the legs were feeling. Not quite as sore as I thought I’d be, I quickly changed into cycling gear and clipped in for the 3rd day of climbing, aiming for the halfway mark.

“Ughhh. This sucks,” Crap Voice declared.

“Think about how amazing this is going to feel when you hit the last 5 minutes, the end is in sight, and you are drenched in sweat!” Determination countered.

These challenges are so much like early sobriety. Itchy and antsy, and so uncomfortable. Our minds start babbling about all the icky parts, highlighting the negative. “Oof, was that a back twinge? Hope you don’t sleep wrong tonight,” Crap Voice taunted. “You’ve done enough…no harm in calling it off now. See how tired your legs are?”

“We don’t quit!” Curiosity and Determination shouted, drowning out any negativity.

Focusing on the music, the cadence of the pedal strokes, the rhythm of breathing in and out, I finished the ride. Minute by minute, interval by interval. One pedal at a time. Just like in sobriety; one day at a time.

I logged the ride into the app. Based on the metrics, I was riding in the advanced level.

I. Earned. Advanced.

Possibly from sitting on the bike for so long mixed in with the huge sense of gratitude for the amazing ways our bodies can perform, more tears were shed.

The dogs looked at me like I was insane.

I probably am. I mean, riding a bike that goes no where in the living room for fitness fun?! Maybe. But by doing so, ever so slowly changing the default to what if we can?