Fuzzbusted: Part II of II

Another week has slipped by…dang!! Hopefully the lapse between posts won’t incite riots amongst the hordes of followers! But seriously, thanks for keeping me in check. What I do hope is that the wait hasn’t built up any unrealistic expectations of grandiose or even super-human training days. Nope, just some rock solid awesomeness, and as I recall: an awesome ride in the hills of Connecticut (only hills it would seem) surveying the Rev3 course, two welcome bricks, and a gaggle of the fuzz.

Last week, despite my best efforts for this continuation, was incredibly busy. A slow/recovery week it was, but Michelle and I had my Mom and aunts in for the majority of it for a lovely visit. I am however not sure if I got my 10 hours of sleep; not that I couldn’t have, just don’t think my body will allow my to sleep at all past 7 anymore. 7 is the new 10.

Anyway anyway, let’s get to it. Going two weeks back now to 4/10, for what was the start of my first back-to-back long weeks. Something I was a little nervous, but equally excited to get under way. These type of training weekends were to set the stage for months to come, and was anxious to see how far I’ve come. That Saturday took us up to the country retreat courtesy of Melissa and Jay (can’t thank you enough) in Bethany, CT for some serious riding. Truthfully, I hadn’t a clue just how serious the riding would be. I had every intent to do some recon on the Rev3 Quassy bike course, leaving directly that morning from the Labbe homestead, heading north. I mapped it the previous night, for a grand total of a very realistic 95 miles, shooting for a 6 hour spin knowing ‘some hills’ were in store. HA! That was a grand understatement…

Connecticut owns me.

The riding was amazing, just absolutely beautiful. What a treat it is to go for a ride for 4-5 hours and not see another soul (cycling) along the way. It’s a wonderful reminder that the only reason I’ve become disenchanted with cycling these past few years is because of geographical locale. (Luckily, we’ll remedy that sometime soon.)

Connecticut is such a beautiful place. That same night before the ride, I made a cue sheet so I wouldn’t get too lost along the way. Although, I seem to remember some of the best rides I’ve ever had involved getting lost. Then again that probably had something to do with the company as well. This day however, cue sheet in hand, I set out on a fairly brisk morning in the low 50’s, around 9AM. How quickly reality came crashing in as not two miles into the ride I was heading up the first series of climbs of the day (still excited at this point). Didn’t feel so brisk out anymore after that climb, which immediately set the tone for the day.

I rode some beautiful country roads, and some crazy-town hills for all of 70 miles. Recon on Quassy did eventually happen, but the 95 mile ride was cut fairly short as I worried about saving some in the tank for first brick coming the next day. Before starting Rev3 course, I took a moment to survey the park lake, which happened to be open, envisioning race day excitement not more than 8 weeks away. As I started the course after leaving the park, I immediately realized everything I heard was true, i.e., it will be a tough day. I was hoping the 20 miles or so up to the start of the course from Bethany was some alter-universe-type anomaly, where near every street name I came upon ended with ‘Hill’, and surely didn’t disappoint in delivering on that promise. However, that was not the case, as Quassy proved to be just as demoralizing.

In a good way of course. Hell, just being out of NYC is a day worth shouting about. I eventually cut the course short, but not before seeing a few like-minded tri-geeks out there doing the same. The ride back to Bethany, proved to be just as lovely, and the wind was much more forgiving heading south (which can be a bugger in it’s own right). I must say, again, it’s beautiful country up there. Cut the prescribed 6 hour ride to 4.5, and called it a day with an awesome dinner concocted by the power of 2.

Inaugural Brick.

After making our way back to the city that night from the highlands of Connecticut, we fueled up at our favorite local Tex-Mex joint and called it a night. I had some anxiety about the next day, as it had been sometime since I had bricked anything (approximately 10 years), and never the three together. Thus, food in belly, sleep was the next item on tap.

Sunday started at 6:30AM with my usual power-slam breakfast of oatmeal, raisins, walnuts, bananas, and Greek yogurt. I would have gladly started the day much earlier, but the swim as it turns has dictated otherwise, with the gym not opening its doors on the weekend to practically noon!! Well, 8AM really, and in my warped perception of time, equally midday. Good weather was in the forcast, I believe with temperatures reaching the low 70’s, which would surely make things all the better. So I hoped.

The brick started officially somewhere around quarter to 8AM when I found myself pedaling to the gym for an on time 2000 swim start to the day. Nothing too exciting to report and after a smooth 30 minutes, I popped out immediately and made my way to the locker for a quick change and pedal home for the commuter to trusty steed bike swap.

After a nutrition check for a long day, essentials in jersey pockets and onboard bottles, I headed out the door shortly after 9AM. All and all, despite being somewhat of a mind-numbing repeat ride, I had a really good day on the bike. I did however go just a little too hard I believe (more on that later), but the sun was shining and it was hard not to be just a little amped. That day’s ride took me by way of Nyack, NY up 9W. Pretty standard for these parts, but I opened it up in a few places to kill the boredom. On that note, strangely my legs felt just fine from the killer hills the day before. That in itself was a welcome reassurance of the four months of base paying off.

I activated Michelle when back in Brooklyn for the planned bike/shoe swap. This pretty much entailed a ‘The Eagle has landed’ conversation as we reconfirmed our planned meeting location in Prospect Park. We met shortly thereafter, and after hopping off my bike, lacing up, changing to a singlet, a big sweaty kiss on the cheek, and a self-assuring ‘This is fine’ spoken aloud, I took my first steps…a very gelatinous first few steps. That was my indication that I went just a little harder than I was aiming to. I did however find my pace after approximately a mile or so – and kicked it over with a comfortable 45 minute 5 miler.

That was it. I did it! Overall I felt a little tired, but not trashed. About a 7 hour day in total.

Fuzzbusted.

So, I’m going to skip the details largely of brick part two, as in day-long format the two are identical. Rather in all the natural anticipation I’ll get right to the heart of the matter, i.e., the explanation of the title. Funny thing is, in the week and a half since that happened most of you have already heard it’s explanation. Ah well, here it is again, documented for history…

So coming into this week, I had a new approach for the ride after some real world experience and some sage advice from John. Basically that entailed nothing more than pacing myself. I’m quickly finding out how much of this is about just that. It’s a long day out there, and it’s the combo that counts, i.e., you can’t go out and kill yourself on the ride, and blow up on the run. It’s a fine line refined only by experience.

So again, 9W was the plan of the day. However I had decided to switch it up a bit with a ride along the Palisades Interstate Park for a change of scenery. What I didn’t know was that the apparently areas of this beautiful stretch are off–limits for bicycles. Really? In a park? On a road traveled by cars?

So how did this occur to me? Well I was heading up a really nice long climb in said park when I happened upon not one, not two, but three(!), yes a grand total of three NJ police cars. Your (NJ) tax dollars hard at work! In all seriousness, as I made my way up to the blockade, reminiscent of international border security, cop A entered the scene by extending his arm into a very forceful stop signal followed by a verbal ‘Halt’. Yes, sadly, I’m being honest. Some of the standard ‘Do you know why I’m stopping you?’, and ‘Do you have your ID?’ came shortly thereafter. ‘No’ to the first, ‘Yes’ to the latter. So as cop A disappears to a car to check-up on me, another cop, we’ll call him cop B starts chatting me up:

‘Are you from the city?’

‘Yes, Brooklyn’, as I remember the brim of my Brooklyn cycling cap plainly visible saying just that extending from under my helmet.

‘So dey don’t let yous guys ride in central park?’

’90 miles get’s pretty boring really quickly.’

Shortly thereafter cop A returns to lecture me on this road being prohibited for this or that reason, with a sign being somewhere that I must have missed, and I had to walk my bike for the remainder of the hill up to 9W. After which, he mentioned in passing to cop B that he was done for the day after handing me a very appropriate 50 dollar fine.

Lovely. Suppose that was bound to happen. Just glad it took 15 years, however I really wish it could’ve happened under different circumstances. Like how about all those times when I was breaking the speed limit? Really, wouldn’t that be rad?

‘Yeah I got a speeding ticket yesterday.’

‘Really, I thought you didn’t own a car.’

‘I don’t.’