Riding Bikes Indoors

Last week, I offered to help a friend out with his training program. That's no big deal right? We're both cyclists, so it's just riding bikes with a friend right? Wrong, because this friend isn't a cyclist at all. He's a triathlete. An IRONMAN triathlete. Triathletes may well be the running joke of the roadie scene, with their sleeveless jerseys and refusal to wear socks. but the level of fitness required to even finish an Ironman distance race is patently absurd. Them's some fit mofos.

So I had committed to ride before he sprung the details on me: 5 hour bike, followed by a 20 minute run. In the season of 1-hour, high intensity training/racing, I inadvertently signed on for a century-plus. Hooray for friends.

Matt arrived Friday morning before the sun was out (scheduling conflicts mandated an early start). Now, let me preface a little here: I was born in Colorado, I learned to LAYER before I learned to walk. I am to fleece jackets what Imelda Marcos is to shoes (except without all the murder and embezzlement). When Matt arrived, however, it was 27 degerees, windy, chance of snow, no chance of warming temps. And that, my friends, is cold. Rather than deal with 5 hours of burning lungs and numb fingers/toes, we opted for the -- perhaps less comfortable -- alternative: 5 hours on the trainer.

It was an endurance event in-and-of itself, and rather than bitch about it, I'll let Matt to fill in the details here: Good times, Cold Rides

And for the record 5 hours on the trainer is every bit the suck-fest you might imagine. But it was fun, and it was hard, and it was more base-miles than I've been able to cram in the last month altogether. So, when Matt asked me to do it again this Friday (for 6 hours) I did what any reasonable person would do: I agreed.