Failing the test

For the past three or so months one of my primary goals has been to rebuild the strength on my right hip and to get back some endurance. The main problem with the former is some restrictions on the types of strength building activities I can undertake, and the main problem with regaining the endurance I had in the past is just finding the hours to spend in the saddle. A couple of months back, during the rainy days of February when it was hard to get motivated I knew I needed a nudge. To push myself towards spending the hours on the bike, and to assess my progress, I signed myself up for a couple of local century rides. The first of those was held yesterday, the first really warm day we have had this year by coincidence.

My current assessment is I failed the test. Early in the day I thought things were good and I was thinking of extending the ride to be 120+ miles. In the end I took a cutoff and rode a mere 76 miles and change. The problems stemmed from the one significant climb of the day, to the park headquarters of Henry Coe, a net gain of 2200′ in about 9 miles. I felt good at the start of the climb, weaving my way around other riders and progressing steadily. But the consistent 10-17% grades took their toll and by the time I hit that 17% section just before the summit there was nothing left in the legs and I had to fight for every inch of elevation gain. I still thought I was alright, took on some food and hydration and stretched out before starting back down, but the small climb out the basin of Anderson reservoir showed how depleted the muscles were. There was no power, and every time I attempted to push them they surrendered and their counterparts cramped in defiance. I stopped, rested a bit, stretched out some more, but there was nothing.

I headed southward to continue, aided by a nice tailwind, but everytime I tried to push it a bit the problems cropped up. A few miles down the road my teammate Derrick caught up with me, suffering his own similar problems related to his knee. We discussed and decided the better part of valor was to cut off the second climbing loop, to Gilroy Hot Springs, and head to the cars. Calling ourselves the ‘gimp patrol’ we passed the turnoff to the Springs and limped back to where we started. Not exactly the result I envisioned, but my body made it clear that it was not ready, yet.

Now it is time to assess my plans for two weeks from now when I will be joining The Wife and a bunch of friends on another similar test. The early discussions have revolved over who is doing the 100 mile, who is doing the ‘official’ metric century, and who will do the ‘unofficial’ sort of metric cut-off version of the 100 miler. I’ve been in the 100 miler camp, alone, all along. Now I have to decide whether to give in to what the body said yesterday, or push for a better result.