Sunday, August 11, 2013
I started bike fitting approximately 7 years ago. It's one of the most rewarding things I've learned to do as a physical therapist. There's nothing quite like seeing the smile on someone's face when they bring in that new bike and then seeing that smell get bigger when you fit them in such a way that their low back no longer hurts in their hands stop going numb. This last weekend I took level II, the silver level, of the bike PT certification. This program was started by Erik Moen PT. He has an extensive background in competitive cycling and fits the best of the best in the Pacific Northwest.
So my goal over the next few weeks is to share a bit of what I learned or was reminded of. First off lets talk cleats.
I did a bike fit today and the rider had very worn cleats resulting in more play on the pedal than there should have been.
It reminded me to check and replace my own cleats on my commuter/mtn shoes. These are SPD and they were so rusted in I couldn't get one screw out and had to take a hacksaw to it. The new cleats are working great and I should've replaced them about 8 months ago!
Cleats are cheap and work so much better when they are new. Most cleats have a wear marker on them that you can check. If you let your cleats go too long, it can damage your shoe. A damaged pair of shoes is a lot more expensive than a pair of cleats. This truly is a case where an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
Monday, May 27, 2013
First of all, stock up on hydrocolloid dressings. These aren't obvious at the pharmacy but you can often find them as a blister care dressing like these that I used. This is actually a nice summary on why hydrocolloids work and how to use them.
But beware, although these dressings are meant to be left in place for multiple days, that's not going to work on a multi-day stage race. You'll have to change them everyday and you'll have to tape them in place to make sure they don't move. Here are your step by step instructions:
1) Clean the wound and the area you expect to tape well with alcohol. You have to get rid of any skin oil or lotions or the tape and dressing won't stay in place.
2) Apply the dressing to the saddle sore.
3) Tape the dressing in place using Kinesiotape. Cut the tape to the desired length and use scissors to round out the corners. Stand on one leg with the opposite foot (the side to be taped) on a chair simulating the position your leg will be in at the top of the pedal stroke. Rip off about 1 inch of the backing on the kinesiotape and apply it without any stress or tension on the tape. Rub it in place to get a good contact point, then tension the tape along it's length as you apply it to the skin, covering the dressing and holding it in place. Leave about 1 inch at the end to be applied to the skin without tension.
4) Grease up with your preferred skin lube over any other friction areas like at the edges of the chamois and seams. I like A&D Lotion, it's cheap and it works.
5) Put on your favorite riding shorts.
6) Put on a second pair of riding shorts. Then go out and ride again.
This routine got me through about another 700 km of mostly off-road riding and my saddle sores were actually healing, not getting worse. Trust me, this works.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Stage 3 - The Mountain Stage
I woke very stiff and my sit bones were super sore. No open wounds but so tender I was worried I wouldn't be able to tolerate being in the saddle all day. Tom suggested I do a 2 short day and that helped the tenderness even if it didn't help my dead legs get up that first steep hill. In my mind, if I could make it through this day, I could finish the whole race.
There were 3 bigs climbs in the day. Kim Kreb and I started together each day. She is a better climber and is all around faster and fitter than I am, so it's nearly impossible for me to stay with her. But there is some technical descending on day 3 and I was able to pass her on a difficult Roman cobble descent. Then it was all over. She regained a lead on me in no time on the next climb. There were large portions of the climbs that I could not ride. They were steep, I was tired and I was running a 2 x 10 drivetrain. I walked, a lot, but it was apparent very quickly that when I walked, I wasn't going that much slower than those who were passing me. In fact, I was giving my back and my bum a break while being pretty efficient about going up.
In the end, I finished the stage with 1 hour or so to spare, rocked the technical descents and was featured in the stage's video of the day. That's me from 3:23 on. The stage finished with a chilly fast 10 km descent on pavement into the town of Unhais de Serra, and the very fancy H2Otel.
When I showered I was unhappy to find an open area over my left sit bone but I was exstatic with my performance for the day. For the first time since starting the race I felt like I was going to make it to the finish line.
Stage 4 - A rest day???
I now had the task of getting up even earlier each day to clean, dress and tape my saddle sores to keep them from getting worse. My morning routine was now taking about 1.5 hours and eating further into my sleep time but I was assured that this day was going to be easier.
Apparently 110 km is a rest day in Portugal. To be fair, the first 80 km were relatively flat. Well Portuguese flat which really means rolling. Then we headed up into the amazing villiage of Monsanto. This is one of the oldest settlements in Portugal with houses build into the stones.
When I say up, I mean really up, like greater than 15% grade on Roman cobbles. Ouch.
The rest of the day was rolling and while it may have felt like a rest day to my fellow racers, it didn't to me. The cumulative fatigue was beginning to be a problem.
Stage 5 - Another 144 km with 40 km of climbing at the end??!!
The first 100 km of this day were glorious. Relatively flat with a lot of pavement to give my tush a rest. I was able to stay with Kim for that time and we helped each other out by taking turns drafting. Then the climbing started and I was on my own again. By the end of the day I had finished the stage with about 1.5 hours to spare on the clock. The stage ends with a nasty climb up Roman cobbles, again, to another amazing hilltop villiage, Castelo de Vide. The first signs of knee trouble started to appear...
Stage 6 - The longest day, 165 km.
I woke exhausted and not confident. The weather was perfect, overcast and cool. The first 30 km of the stage were the hardest with some significant climbing but then we were headed into the Alantejo, the farming plains, were the obstacles would be gates instead of hills.
I rode 40 or so km, was having increasing knee pain and was not fast enough to make it to the finish of the stage in the cut-off times. I had tried pushing harder but the knee pain would get worse. I was miserable and had been for nearly 4 hours without any sign of my attitude turning around no matter how many mental tricks I tried. I had to make a choice, push on and risk likely being pulled off the course late in the stage, exhausted or pull out at the 53 km mark at the next checkpoint, get some rest and hope to come back better for the last 3 stages. I decided to pull out. It was a hard choice and I cried when I got in the truck. But the people of TransPortugal are amazing, they consoled me and hugged me like family. I have come to think of them as family, especially Anontio Fael, Lena Ferreira, Pedro Cardoso and Jose Carlos.
There is no race anywhere in the world that can compete with TransPortugal in terms of the Staff.
I hung out at Checkpoint 3 for a while, taking a nap in the truck until Tom came through. He was ready to quit but was convinced otherwise by a Portuguese rider and he went on to have a pretty good day. I went on to have a pretty good rest.
I don't regret my decision to stop that day, even more than a week later when hindsight is 20/20. I know that I was heading for a collapse of some sort and choosing to stop that day held it off and allowed me to finish the next 3 days.
Stage 7 - What a difference a day can make.
I woke excited about the day ahead of me and while my legs certainly weren't fresh, they were world's better than they had been. I still had saddle sores to deal with but my management stragety was working and they actually seemed to be getting better, not worse.
On this day other riders started having a lot of trouble with gut issues. A virus was going through the ranks, not just the riders but the staff and the companions. By the end of the day, as many as 10 people would be in hospital getting IVs. My starting buddy Kim was affected. The day was long but relatively flat with a fair bit of pavement riding. I decided at the start of the day that the best thing I could do was to stay with Kim all day and make sure she was OK and finished.
It was a long day. Made longer by my mistake of washing all the sunblock off my hands at about km 50 when I spilled perpetuem on them. I had no gloves on and this resulted in a fairly siginificant sunburn. Kim finished with a very unhappy tummy and I rolled in with her, tired but happy with my day. We only had about 45 min to spare on the clock. It makes it difficult to recover when you have so little time in the evening after each stage.
Stage 8 - Another 140 plus km with a ton of climbing!!??
Well, I was exhausted again, my knee was hurting at breakfast and I couldn't eat much. I was looking at one of the hardest stages of the race and not feeling very confident. I went back to the hotel room after breakfast complaining of knee pain and not knowing if I should start. I wanted to tape my knee but I didn't think I'd make my start time. Tom convinced me to tape it even if it meant I was late to my start. So I did a quick clean, dry, tape and wrap and managed to make it to the start just in time. Kim was feeling better and was ready to return the favour today by riding with me all day long.
It was a hell of a day and I will save you the details. Needless to say, I was a really grumpy girl when I turned up that last steep pitch when I thought I was done climbing. Grumpy enough to get off my bike bike to walk and curse a bit. This seemed to amuse Kim somewhat. We rolled into the finish with less than 45 min to spare and I headed straight into the bar for a beer. I knew that if I could finish this stage, I could make it to the sea the next day. I don't think I've ever been more proud of a finish. This day took all I had to get it done.
Stage 9 - How hard can 99 km be?
The last day. The easiest stage. Not flat but short and by km 50 you are riding along cliffs above the Atlantic Ocean with the most amazing views you can imagine. Many ride this day with an easy effort. That was my intention, I wanted to be a tourist. I wanted to stop at cafes and soak up the views, bask in my accomplishment. I did that, for about 45 km then I hooked up with Tom and he pushed me, as hard as I dared go for the last the leg of the journey.
I don't remember much about the stats. I know I came in much earlier than I normally would compared to other riders. It was a beautiful day and the sights did not disappoint.At the end there was beer and food and the sea. And joy.
Here's the day's video. I get a quick shot at 2:00, Tom and I riding together at 2:50 and of course in the staff and athlete shot at the end.
Bottom line: This is an amazing race. It's challenging but worth every bit of misery in what you get back in views, new friendships and support from the race organization.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I'm still proud of myself. And I'll come back stronger on the last 3 stages.
In the last 6 days I've ridden my mountain bike 660 km, most of it off road but not true single track. In about 48 or so hours with plenty of climbing, some of it at grades greater than 20%.
Currently I'm in a love/hate relationship with Roman cobbles.
I'll post another link soon with our latest interview.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Here's how a typical TransPortugal day goes:
Wake up really stiff, take 10 min just to get moving. Morning hygiene, apply sunscreen until you look like a mime, eat breakfast at the hotel (yum), finish getting bottles, gel etc ready then sit on your bike and pedal for 8 to 10 hours, eat a ton at the finish, shower and do laundry, clean bikes, eat dinner, prep for the next day and pass out. There is no free time and I'm only getting about 7 hours of sleep a night. Not enough really, but it'll have to do.
Day 1, 142 km. with tons of climbing and rollers.
I woke up and cursed when I remembered what was coming. The first day is the hardest day according to many. I really wasn't sure I could do it in the allowed time. I did, with 1 hour to spare.
The highlights were amazing flowers, great food at the finish line and getting to ride with Tom for the second half.
The most terrifying moment was when a huge, (imagine a street gang version of a white Newfoundlander), dog made a very aggressive a serious chase as I went by. I have never been scared of a dog to that extent.
The day was full of highs and lows for both of us. In the end it was sweet with us cruising the finish line together. Tom wasn't having a good day in general and chose to stay with me. I couldn't have finished without his support.
Day 2, 110 km. moderate climbing.
Woke up stiff and tired. Holy crap, my ass is already really sore, how the hell am I going to do this for another 8 days. Surprisingly, I started riding well and Tom was on too. So we had a sweet moment filing our packs at a water stopin a fortified villiage at the top of the hill. We kissed and he was off. I continued to ride well until I kind of fell apart at km 90. Then it was a 20 km death march. It builds character, right?
More on day 3, 4 and beyond later. Now it's time to sleep. 144 km tomorrow.
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Friday, May 3, 2013
48 hours later we're mostly past the jet lag. 9 of those hours to get from Lisbon by bus. I got a good look at the terrain we'll be crossing the first day of the race. It looks steep and rolling. Right now my best estimate is about 11 hours for day 1.
We've seen cork and olive trees on the terraced hillside, a stork at the roadside and wild flowers.
There are lots of friendly and very fit looking folks here. It's going to be fun, in a sick sort of a way.
Registration day tomorrow. A nerve racking day of bike building line ups and meetings. The goal for tomorrow is to maintain my sanity.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
John's daughter Alison and I became close friends in junior high school. I spent as much time at the Lovie household as I did at my own. John and Janice became my adopted parents. Please don't misinterpret this, there was nothing wrong with my own parents, I was just lucky enough to have a second very loving family take me into their lives and show me many ways to live that were different from my own home. I'm sure that Alison would say the same about my parents, particularly my Mom, since we were either at her house or mine for 5 years straight.
The Lovies taught me to play hockey and helped me find my athleticism.
They taught me that I was loved beyond the expected love of my biological family.
They taught me how to navigate on a road trip. I still love road trips.
They taught me to sing out loud even though I'm a terrible singer.
They let me sleep on the floor under their dining room table when I needed a place to crash and there were no beds to be had. I had free access to their house and their kitchen. Those of you who know me, know how much I eat and can understand that this is a big deal.
The Lovies taught me to say "I love you" openly as you never know what might happen. Perhaps you'll never get a chance to say it again.
John Lovie Senior passed away and I didn't manage to get back to Edmonton to say, "I love you", one more time. I hope you know it.
We'll miss you.
I've revived this blog for 2 reasons. To express my feelings about John's passing and to get the habit going so I can blog about my upcoming race. TransPortugal 2013. I dedicate the greatest race of my life to the memories of my 2 dads, Ronald James Nobbs and John Lovie Sr.