Training

First training run today... a day at the office turned into me writing pieces from home (longer story there rife with exasperation, but I don't want to go into it), turned into me making my first training run since my accident.

I should say recovery run, because I'm trying to get back to the baseline of fitness I was at before I crashed and dislocated my wrist. But training run makes me feel more useful.

It was an unseasonably beautiful New York day, and after I sent in my articles, me and the Raleigh took the PATH to Christopher Street and I biked the 60 someodd blocks to Central Park for what would be the bulk of my run.

They say you never forget how to ride a bike, but that's only half true. The mechanics of the balance are simple for your cerebellum to hold on to, yes, but the intricacies of knowing the frame and its reactions to forces, of knowing how to maximize your output, of understanding weight transfer and agility... what little of that my brain and body had started to learn were, at least initially, nowhere to be found. I was clumsy on the bike, unable to even dream of the zipping through traffic I was doing just this past November.
Then there was my body's inability to adapt to the bike... I am consistently amazed at the simplicity of a bicycle, and how much modifying it amounts to adapting it to be a better mate to your body. Well, my body had totally forgotten things like how to gracefully mount and dismount (which affected only my pride) and where to place my butt on the saddle (which massively affected my power transfer until I figured it out).

So I got to Central Park to do as many laps as my body would allow. My legs were strong, if lacking grace on the pedals, and I felt reasonably confident, keeping a high cadence at a lower-than-usual gearing. As expected, though, my lungs gave out a third of the way in... I was gasping, trying to control my breathing while keeping cadence, other bikers passing me by. It was the same feeling of helplessness (though of slightly lesser magnitude) that I'd had when I got out of the hospital post-pneumonia, trying to do tasks that were familiar to me and being completely unable to sustain even the breathing required. But I powered through and completed the loop of Central Park, not once coasting, but spinning regardless of how low the cadence. By the end of my one single lap I was crawling, passed by a fast couple on ultra-light bikes with triathlon-style aero bars. (jerks)

The ride back down to the WTC PATH involved a stopover to drink beer with John, and over the course of the night I regained my familiarity with the bike, sitting back in the saddle, getting down in the drops, sprinting between taxicabs for fun...

Central Park was cathartic. I have a lot of work to do. At my worst moments I thought of the great times I know L's asshole-triathlete has gotten, but even as I passed places in the Park that were important to our relationship I managed to push all of that aside. I've been planning to train for months. This is mine, and I own this.

The bike is dirty, and my muscles are electric with that tension that pervades after a hard ride. It feels good. Both to be riding again, and to be following through.

I have a lot of work to do.