It’s an hour of full-power intervals, part of the 12-week winter strength program I’ve been doing. Joel Friel is killing me, and I’m paying him to do it.
But here’s the weird thing: this workout represents a minor victory over something that has long plagued me, a lack of will. I’ve suffered from a lack of will for my entire life, and it’s taken me 45 years to realize that it springs from one place: a lack of goals.
Instead of setting goals, I existed in this nebulous realm of “improvement,” something that’s hard to quantify and that is not motivational whatsoever. I’d ride around, sometimes hard, sometimes not. My father told me, “You ride WAY too much to be a tourist but not nearly ENOUGH to be a racer.” It got under my skin; I was out there, on the bike every day and feeling pretty good about it, but my results belied the tale I told myself. I sucked, hard, and it was a source of constant discouragement.
But now, I have data to depend on, things that show me what I have, what I need, and where I need to get to do what I want to do. And it’s helping! For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m training effectively, despite knowing HOW for the past 25 years. The trainer is a nightmare, but you never rest, you never “ride around,” you simply work, and the numbers are there to prove it.
So, this is where I am. I’m still fat and slow, but I’m less-fat and less-slow than I was. And for the first time, I feel like my head and my heart are on my side. I am going to Mt. Cheaha, BSG, Six Gap. Then, I’m going to Ventoux, l’Alpe d’Huez, the Mortirolo. I’m going to make it. I going to find my heart on those mountains.