Talking About It, Sorry

I had an early morning appointment with my eye doctor on Thursday, and by the time I was done trying on new sets of contacts—none of which seemed to help my vision—I really didn’t feel like working out or riding the trainer. But I did, and I bit off way more than I should have.

I said I wouldn’t talk about it, but I’m so gonna talk about it. Again. Blah, blah, blah…

I got myself down to the Not So Stankment soon after I arrived home; knowing full well that any pause would have me slacking off.

As I perched upon the Hammer, I logged onto Zwift™ and picked a flat course to hammer out a quick 15 or 20 miles suitable for my hulking body. Then, out of the blue, I was struck with the urge to punish myself. So, I scrolled down to the Road to The Sky course, which features the Alpe Du Zwift climb, Zwift’s Watopian version of the legendary Alpe d’Huez climb. I pressed start and UGGG!!!

HOL-EEE-SHIT! It pretty much broke me, and almost made me weep. The course is only like 13.5 miles long, and it took me over 2 hours to complete the 21 switchbacks and 3,700+ feet of climbing. It was one of the hardest (and dumbest) things I’ve done in a long time.

My ass, neck, and legs were a mess. I sweat so much that my hands pruned, and I wanted to quit after almost every sector. But once I got 10 of the 21 turns completed, I figured there was no point in stopping now, after all this was my way of flagellating myself for my numerous sins against diet, sobriety, and lack of intelligence.

It’s been at least 10 years since I spent 2 hours on a trainer; I swore I would never do something so stupid again, ever. Yet I did, and I would be lying if I said that in some freakish way I didn’t feel damn good when I completed the course. I know it’s an indoor trainer, and I know I only averaged 6 MPH on the climb, and twice I had to dismount just to see if I could stand, but I worked my ass off. Something I don’t do nearly enough of when I’m on the bike these days.

Random self portrait in my sketch book. This is why I punish myself.

I did another 10-mile ride Friday (and 15 more on Saturday) morning (even after I swore I wouldn’t) then did a short, sad bastard walk around the melting snows in the Sylvan Preserve before picking B up, making dinner, cleaning, etc.

Maybe in another 10 years, I ‘ll do another 2-hour trainer ride, but right now I have no want or reason to ever do that again. For now, I’m just happy to have completed the “climb.”

I should probably work on that diet and sobriety stuff so as not to have to punish myself in such a Spanish Inquisition-like way ever again.


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