Friday, November 8, 2013

The Trainer Century - in Photos

As you know from training, I had to do a century ride in training. Since circumstance was that Brandon and I couldn't do it together and that was way too long of a ride to do alone (and unsupported) given my crash history, we both did century rides on the trainer.

We've spent a lot of time on Skippy this year (even had to get new rear tires as a result) and this was the longest single session yet.

I know some of you are probably asking why, oh god why would we do this (and I wondered that myself at times), but I think it worked out for a few reasons:

1.) It was fantastic mental training.
2.) As mentioned before, crash risk is negatory.
3.) It took a lot less time than it would have outside - less time out of my day is a giant perk.

It went well and as you saw in my training log, the run off the bike was very spry and I had tons of energy afterward and felt pretty good the next day.

So, here's the story ... in pictures.

The beginning.

Food pile. Apple pie Bonk Breaker bars, "crack" (no-bake) cookies, an extra bottle of water and potatoes from the Feed Zone cookbook. I think I screwed something up with them though since they did NOT taste like they were supposed to ...

The videos I chose to watch.

Run clothes set up for the transition.

Tempe ride, ready to go.

"Let's do this!"

Essentially my view for the next few hours. ALSO: new water bottle - Profile Design HC Aero. SO AWESOME.

Since Coach Troy during the Tempe ride is a drinking game waiting to happen, I had iTunes blaring as well.

Mile 25.

And we are now doing the Kona DVD. It is ridiculously boring. Sorry Troy.

Mile 40. I'm getting sweaty.

Mile 50. This is when it started to get horrible.

The dwindling food pile.

Mile 75. The sweat is driving me insane.

Mile 90. Yes, that is the look of insanity. It is also the look of me starting to go inside my own head to finish this crazy crap.

The view outside. Worst part was, it actually was a nice day out.

The end is near, so very, very near.


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