Mid week training - check. One visit to the gym. Check. Massage and chiropractic adjustment. Check. An excellent schedule to lead up to the weekend. But oh no, couldn't have that happen, nope, not an option. By Friday the legs weren't doing all that well - especially my hamstrings. My hamstrings tend to be tight - that's part of me. I do yoga and stretch to try to keep them from getting too tight, but they have a will of their own. So I went out for a lunch time run - at a very easy pace - to see if some movement wouldn't improve the situation. It didn't seem to make things any worse but didn't improve matters either.
On to the massage... oh yeah, those hamstrings were not happy campers. Lots of work to try to clear the congestion. Off to the chiropractor...yup tight, tight, tight. At least my midback was happy to pop back into alignment.
Saturday morning, things were not improved to speak of - the hammies were still complaining. I went out and rode my bike anyway. Never have I suffered as I did. No time trial, no hilly road race, no crit, nothing, had ever had me hurting on the bike the way I was on Saturday. It was manageable for the first 30 miles or so. But then things started to get significantly worse. Over the next 20 miles or so, I felt every muscle in my upper legs engage in an effort to compensate for the hamstrings until I reached a point where they all were worn out and sending pain signals. Never before had my legs hurt so bad. I dropped off the back of the ride - sometimes it's best to suffer alone.
I reached a point in that solo suffering where I was ready to be done with cycling in any way, shape or form. Never would I lead a ride for the club, hell, I'd resign as treasurer. Never would I train or race, ever again. Had there been a dumpster in sight, it might have turned into a re-enactment of that scene from Karate Kid where Daniel (not yet Daniel-san) while cycling was run off the road by the bullies on their motor bikes and battered and bruised as a result tossed his bike in the dumpster loudly professing his hate for the machine.
Then I moved beyond it ignored the physical pain, set aside the emotional pain, rolled up to the stop sign where the rest of the group was waiting and sat on the front, pulling at the agreed pace for the last few miles of the ride. The weekend's riding was done though - I knew there was no way my hamstrings would be recovered such as to tolerate a hilly ride out of KA the next day. I was figuring that if I could once again touch my toes by sometime on Sunday, I'd be doing great.
The effort took so much out of me that I spent a lot more hours asleep than normal - both over night and taking a nap on Sunday. The pain had mostly faded over night but walking seemed to be as much effort as my legs were interested in doing. I didn't argue. The recovery day did its job and I'm all better now. The 4 mile run at lunch yesterday went without a hitch (though I think it's time for new running shoes) and yoga did its magic. I guess the true test will be tonight on the bike, but I don't doubt that the legs will be fine, even happy to pedal. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I managed to push the mental barriers back a bit so that I'll be able to suffer more effectively in competition.
