The misery of winter training

*Cross-posted from BelgiumKneeWarmers, and expanded upon.


Stuck here in Chicago, most of my training is on the lakeside path, only because of its proximity and the lack of quality roads on which to train. Usually I'm out with a teammate or two, or on a slower day, a friend just new to the sport. On those days, I ride sans-headphones, as the conversation is animated, just so long as we're not cranking it. Plus, one needs to hear the ratcheting clicks of a downshift in preparation of an attack.

But on those days that I can't rustle up a posse, I load up my iPod Shuffle with a mix of hardcore punk (the good stuff, such as Black Flag, Adolescents, Minor Threat, Effigies, etc.), and head out for some hurting. The tempo of those songs keeps my cadence up and the aggression in the singers' voices act as no reprieve when that sweet ache of exertion comes on strong.

I'll come home after riding with my iPod, and even after a short ride of around 1 and 1/2 hours, I'm positively exhausted.

Which is a good thing. This time of the year is not the time for five hour endurance rides, or long cruising with a small snack half-way through. This is the time of the year for maintenance, building, and preparation for the Spring road races. The frigid chill of the air, and the wet pavement is hardly the ideal clime for training, but of course, training's got to be done, lest one shows up at that first race of the season, overweight and with soft legs.

That's why my bike is attached to the trainer or resting upon the rollers – those foul torture devices that seem so similar to the omnipresent wheel in a pet rodent's cage. On those days that it's simply foolhardy to go outside, a couple of hours on the trainer, watching TdF DVDs are called for, and required.

I'll make it outside as much as I can. I have a cyclocross bike for a reason, and it's to ride through absolute junk. With some fenders, thick sturdy tires, and warm clothes, a longish ride to the far suburbs of Chicago and back is made just a bit more tolerable. Add in a stop at Starbucks for a coffee or hot chocolate, and the ride takes on a slightly more pleasant sensation.

With enough death marches in 20-degree weather, coupled with plenty of spin sessions in my warm apartment, I should come out of winter just the same as I was when I entered it: in shape and ready to go. Per my recent posts of the culinary persuasion, I will of course indulge, but yes, in moderation.