None of the following exercises are recommended by the manufacturer, no matter what your personal trainer from 24 Hour Fitness tells you.
Top 10 Stability Ball Exercises You Shouldn’t Attempt
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Category Archives: Training
The OC
26.3 miles
14.1 mph average speed
1:52 total time
Up and over Terwilliger, down through Lake O and West Linn, across the
OC bridge, then back on the east side on river road.
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Portland’s West Hills the Easy Way
I used to climb to Council Crest in about 18 minutes from Terwilliger and Westwood (including the roundabout on Fairmount). Yesterday took me 24 minutes. And the fact that I was cruising and not pushing gives me a little hope.
I’m not strong — there’s no doubt about that. But I’m definitely improving. A two-hour ride that included two trips up Terwilliger (from downtown, not from Lake O) left me feeling, dare I say it, “good.”
Unlike my last foray up to the top of Portland’s West Hills, I did most of my climbing BELOW the 181 BPM mark. Not way below that, mind you. It’s not like I was in my aerobic zone. The steep stretch right before Fairmount shot my heart rate up to 178 (that was the max on my Polar when I got home), but otherwise, I kept it around 170 on the steep parts, and under 164 on Terwilliger’s gentle rolls.
The granny gear probably helped, eh?
STATS
- Distance: 27.5 miles
- Time: 2’10″
- Avg. Speed: 12.5 mph
- Max Speed: 34 mph (I LOVE bombing down Vista.)
- Avg. HR: 148 bpm
- Max HR: 178 bpm
- Time above Zone 1 (157 bpm): 51 minutes
Mt Tabor and Rocky Butte
I love my little two butte ride. Just about 90 minutes (usually less) and I get maybe 25 minutes of climbing. Head north along 52nd, then go up and over Tabor, then head down Yamhill to 75th, which takes you to Tillamook. From there, you’re pretty much at the foot of Rocky Butte. Get to the top, circle the castle, then do it backwards.
Oh, the photo was of Doug Ollerenshaw of Rock Racing during the Mt. Tabor Crit stage of the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic. Cool, huh? He had one really bad-ass attack where he was storming across the gap at the top of the course, and I just got lucky with the camera. Bon voyage, Doug! Congrats on heading back to school!
The West Hills Go On Forever
I do not climb like a cycling god. Rather, I climb like a fat man who needs to spend a little less time with the beer and cheese making, and a little more time in the saddle.
Paul and I met up Thursday after work, and went up Lovejoy to Thompson to Skyline. I remember it from my fitter days as a long hill: painful but not too awful. My God, I used to climb that thing with an 11-23 straight block cassette. Yesterday, I climbed it with a 12-27 cassette — a frickin’ frisbee back there, a damn granny gear — and I still had to ice my back and knees when I got home.
On the other hand, I can still suffer with the best of them. I climbed pretty much the whole way, other than that flat section before you get to Thompson, with my heart rate around 181.
I wonder if that’s even healthy?
And that long, straight, heart-breaking stretch at the top of Thompson? The one where it gets impossibly steeper? Where a sign says, “Stop in 500 feet” and you think to yourself, “there’s no way they didn’t measure this wrong”? The part where you can see all the way up to the top and it just NEVER SEEMS TO GET ANY SHORTER?
Yeah, I was at like 186 for that whole thing. I can’t believe I didn’t throw up.
I’m hoping for a long, flat ride this weekend. Just maybe do the Oregon City ride. Though I need to take the bike over to Bike Gallery to get it tuned. I think the new Fat-Ass Cassette is making the old chain a little cranky and creaky.
Sick
I caught a cold somehow, and spent yesterday pretty miserable. But I took it easy, and slept well, so we’ll see how today goes. I’m going to try to nap even more today.
I noticed in VeloNews this morning that a company named “American Beef” will take over from Saunier Duval as the title sponsor for the Scott cycling team. Weirdly, it is NOT the Cattleman’s Beef Association of “It’s what’s for dinner fame.” Rather, American Beef is from Chihuahua, Mexico.
Anyway. Watching the final TT this morning for the Tour de France. Thus far, Cadel Evans is kinda stinking it up, but my man from Garmin-Chipotle, Christian Vande Velde, is flying.
In fact, it looks like Garmin-Chipotle placed two riders in the top 5, with Vande Velde and David Millar.
Anyway, there was an excellent article in the print edition of the newest Bicycling Magazine about Garmin-Chipotle, especially about how with their aggressive anti-doping stance that they will likely win a little less — that they will be merely okay. And the spin that Jonathan Vaughters put on it was brilliant:
To agree not to dope, to agree to never let that enter the context of teh team is to agree to fail sometimes. To agree to let your fans down sometimes is to agree to the fallibility of the human body.” He said the wins — honest wins — would be that much sweeter, the celebrations that much richer when you truly knew the “preciousness of winning.”
Game on
After a somewhat miserable week of exercise owing to the fact that I had to spend three days in Beaverton, this next week holds more promise.
Since I’ve put on so much weight and hill-climbing is destroying my knees and back, I went ahead and bought a new cogset with a 12-27 cluster. That 27-tooth cog looks like a damn frisbee back there, but whatever; I am not a proud man. (I’m waiting for my in-laws to get up from their nap so I can go test the new gears.) The cogs mean the next time Paul wants to go tackle the west hills, I’ll be able to walk the next day, presuming that I don’t have a heart attack.
I also moved my HRM back to my summer bike (oh glorious summer!). Actually, it was more moving the speedometer over. So I’m hoping to try a little more exercise book-keeping (remember these workouts?), like time and distance and effort.
Which might be more interesting if I were training for something. But… I’m not.
I’m at a bit of a crossroads and I don’t know what to do. I’m kinda in this zone where I got a little burnt on all of the training. More specifically, other than Paul who I see approximately every 19 months, none of my friends are particularly athletic. And so I really struggle to go out by myself because, after a while, it’s super-boring.
And the other excuses are that I’m a little bored riding up here and I don’t really have the time to dedicate like I used to. And so I was thinking maybe I’d attempt a triathlon comeback (the idea being that running and swimming can be done over lunch). Or maybe even focus on skiing for fall and winter, just to take a break from things. That way, I could do a lot at the gym (core and legs), then have fun winter weekends up on the mountain.
I also just got a decent bonus at work, and was considering using it on a cycling/triathlon coach. In a way, that might help with the boredom thing (learning new things, having someone push me), and it might be a good way to meet other riders.
OK, time to go wake up the in-laws. This is getting ridiculous…
Oops
Looking back on it, predicting a recovery day for today seemed a little fool-hardy. Especially since I can’t turn down a new dad with limited rides who invites me out.
And in hindsight, suggesting Kelley Point — a long slog on the best days — on a windy, 90 degree day maybe wasn’t too bright either.
I am pretty sure we both bonked. And that was before his six mile uphill ride home and my ten mile commute back to my refrigerator.
Everything hurts. Tomorrow MUST be a rest day.
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Riding
Rode for two hours Sunday, including going up Rocky Butte and Mt Tabor. Going up Tabor was awesome. I met up with some random guy, and instead of getting killed going uphill, I actually led him up.
Today, I went to the gym. Did lunges and leg-presses. Pretty good stuff.
Anyway. We’ll see how long I can keep it up. It seems in the past, something at work or at home has always screwed things up.
Tomorrow, I’ll bike in slowly. “Recovery day.”
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Dara Torres
Dara Torres. Yeah, yeah, hot. But there’s a great story in the NY Times Magazine about how she’s doing everything she can to fight the fading of the light as she crosses over the 40-year mark. And absolutely killing it. Yesterday, she made the Olympic team in the 50 freestyle, and the 100 free earlier in the week. Awesome.
Way back, once upon a time, I swam. A lot. I coached. I got into open-water swimming. Then I got into triathlon and biking, and then I got really into biking and stopped running (a blessing) and swimming.
And it was fun. But I miss swimming. I miss the team aspect of swimming. Which is ironic, because if ever there was a sport that had NOTHING to do with team, it’s swimming. But I miss the competitive nature of swimming with a group of fellow competitors. Of chasing the guy in front of you. Of putting the hammer down when the guy behind you starts to fall off the pace. And doing it all with nothing in your ear except your own voice, your own music and your own fight to stay with them.
Anyway. Now life’s a lot different. As I get older and focus my energy on building a fence in the front yard, on growing strawberries in the garden and getting a promotion to editorial director at work, that little voice gets quieter while all the other demands get louder. But finding the time to tune out that other stuff – to run a little further, to do one more set of pushups, or to bike the long way to work — brings me back to life, and makes it easier to do those other things and feel good about them.