turkey day / race day
happy thanksgiving to this wonderful Pilates community.
Thank you.
Thank you for being the reason the studio is running as it is.
Thank you for your patience and understanding of all the schedule changes throughout this year.
Thank you for your support in my adventures, toward other instructors helping you move, and toward your fellow Pilates members.
studio notes
The studio will be closed on Thursday and Friday. (Unless otherwise notified).
Yes, there will be a Saturday morning class at 9:30 am.
Please message me if you plan to attend. I expect a full house with leftover pie. ;)
Full schedule next week, including Barre class with Hilary on Monday morning at 10:00 am.
race report
And now, my report from my latest adventure 10 days ago.
12 hours.
given 12 hours, what would you do?
what could you do?
Some would binge-watch a season of their favorite show. Others would have an adventure on Mt. Lemmon.
Me? I choose to go and compete in a 12-hour mountain bike event.
When I was originally presented with the idea of competing in a 12-hour mountain bike race, I’d just completed the Pan-America Xterra Triathlon Championship race, electing not to compete at World Championships. All I can say is that I must've been operating on a depleted store of those racing/fitness endorphins. You know, the chemicals that are supposed to give you greater clarity and presence of mind? The ones that are supposed to help you make better decisions in life?
So what did I do?
I agreed to compete in a 12-hour mountain bike race. On a duo team. Not a four-person team that would allow for more recovery time, but a duo team. I'm not sure how the idea came up, or whose idea it was for certain. But I agreed.
Why not?
It was 2 months away, nothing to get too worked up about.
november 16, 2019
RACE DAY.
Uh oh. Up and at ‘em before the sun. Here we go. I didn’t feel that I had any single thought of what to expect that day. But I did know that I didn’t feel prepared.
There was no rule on how many laps (15-mile lap) each person did relative to their teammate. But I wanted to be a good teammate and do my part. I wanted to hold my own. I wanted to show that I could do it. There wasn’t any specific training for this event, at least not in my schedule. It was a “Let’s see what we can do” event. At least that's how it felt to me.
The beginning of any race is always thrilling and motivating. The nerves of racers and spectators alike are on edge, ready to go. It’s the exciting buildup of the official start and watching everyone take off.
Then, the exhale of relief knowing I didn’t have to be in that mass start and a moment of “Whew! Glad it’s not me."
They were off. A beautiful, slightly overcast autumn day in the desert that wasn’t too hot. My teammate started us off. I prepped. We alternated laps of 15 miles throughout the day. For 12 continuous hours.
The relief of getting off the bike each time was quickly replaced with the knowledge that I had roughly 75 minutes to be fueled up and ready to climb back on that bike again. Each time, another venture out into the dry, dusty desert for a 75 to 90-minute ride.
The first five miles were comprised of switchbacks and gradual climbing. Miles six through ten—well, they were pure bliss. Four miles of quick, rolling turns and momentum-building gorgeous landscapes. It was fun. I felt giddy after climbing the first five miles of the course. The bliss miles were what I looked forward to each lap—I mean, besides the finish line—and they were where I decided to push myself. The last four miles made me question my sanity for saying yes to doing this race in the first place.
During those last miles before switching off with my teammate, I carefully, almost obsessively, monitored my bike computer. When _will_ this lap be over?! Each and every time I rolled into the exchange tent, my teammate was there—waiting and ready. I never doubted him. I never asked him what he was thinking between those laps.
I can tell you what my body was thinking: “I'm done.”
My body was tired and each time out was yelling at me "Don’t you dare sit on a bike again today!" But we kept at it. Even when the darkness fell and lights were needed to illuminate the path. We kept at it until we ran out of time to go again.
Four laps each.
15 miles per lap.
60 miles per person.
4th Place in our division.
It was physically challenging, yes—but as the day wore on, it was increasingly mentally challenging. To get back on that bike every 75 minutes, and to ride for 75 to 90 minutes by myself.
It was 12 Hours of Fury.
But.
We had done it.
Another first. An amazing experience.
So...
Now, what’s next?
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
(Learning to be careful of letting my teammate know that I stopped for a picture on the racecourse.) ;-)
race day! november 16, 2019