Wednesday, 12 February 2014

12/02/2014

Commute:
Bing and Lucas were bugging me yesterday to go long with them this morning, I dismissed the idea with the 'reason' that I had a 9am meeting. It's true, I did, but I also had a feeling I was scared to try a double session of long in the morning and HCC in the afternoon.

That thought stuck around all last night and through today, it stewed, it morphed, it advanced. "Am i dudding myself out of opportunities to get faster? I asked myself. I also asked myself if dudding was the right word, but I convinced myself it was. Once that small matter was out the way, I went back to the stewing. "When do I want to be faster for? Today (HCC)? 2 months time? All the time? Is all the time a reasonable desire?"

I think I'm going to have to sacrifice a few weeks of feeling fresh to get some solid riding in, and force some more meaningful adaptation. If that means racing crits completely leggy, or not at all, then that will have to be what happens.

D: 5.5km
A: 32m

HCC CRIT:
I still don't have my head fully around this race. I wasn't feeling leggy going in (thanks in part to the shit I whinged yesterday and this morning), and things weren't super painful, so I started to have aspirations. I would float around the front and if the pace went up and I was forced to work a bit, I'd slip back down the pack after to rest a little, before moving my way back forward by the easiest means.

I kept an occasional eye on my HR, and didn't see anything outrageous, a few pushes into the 180s, but mostly it sat around threshold levels, which isn't too bad for Kew given the sprint/rest cycle. At one point I had a peek at the time, and was happy to see we'd passed 23 minutes, because usually the pace eases a little from that point until the final laps. So, I stopped hanging desperately to the back of the bunch, and over the next few laps wandered forward to check on Bing. He said he was feeling the hurt, but I knew if I pushed air for him, he'd come good. So I mentally set myself to work for him, to try and get a few guys together to help peg back the break of 6-7 riders that had got up the road, and generally, just be an influence on the race.

The Artisan dude who's name completely escapes me right now pushed off the front into the void, so I covered his wheel, pretty much expecting the bunch would be firmly tucked inside the massive hole hole in the air my arse creates. When dude flicked his elbow along the bottom of the course, I took a quick peek behind, and realised we were on a two up mission. I told him I was coming through, but that I might not be of much use. It wasn't me playing games either, I really was concerned that even a small turn would put me well deep into the box. Then for some inexplicable reason, I pulled a long turn, one that included most of the bottom of the course, through the tight corner, and into and most of the way up the hill. Then I swung to the left and promptly left the race.

I'm both angry and disappointed in myself. Yes, when I stopped the numbers said I'd had a normalised power of 496W, which is retardedly high, but I felt ok (not right then, right then i felt like arse), and for fucks sake there wasn't that much time left in the race, where was the fight I normally show at Kew. Where was the "one more kick", where was the htfu kid?! GAAAAAH!

Strava link.

D: 45.1km
A: 368m

PMW: 95kg

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