On Red Lights

There is something about cold air and sudden stops. I was riding to work today and about 250m from an intersection (yes I just measured, with Google maps) the 'Do not walk' warning started blinking, according to the warning I had about ten seconds with, I would guess a 20km/h head wind.

Now that I'm in the compartive comfort of a desk, with all the trappings of computerized life, I can say that closing that 25m/s was quite impossible, it would have required ramping up to 90km/h. But being that I am a lousy judge of distance (or maybe it was 15 seconds? meaning a more reasonable 60km/h) I made a full on attempt at the light and wound up slamming on the brakes and down shifting all in the last two or three seconds.

The trouble with sprinting hard in the cold is it really, really hurts the lungs.

The following is from Road Bike Rider, it describes a lot of rides I go on.

Wicked Wednesdays

Every Wednesday evening, my bike club hosts an interval workout on a hill at the local university. The climb takes 5-6 minutes and we do it 6 times. Rain or shine. Darkness or daylight. Forest fire or student protest.

Our coach refers to these sessions as Level 5 or anaerobic threshold workouts. Even if you pace it perfectly -- negative splits, each interval faster than the last -- it hurts. I'm talking root-canal, tax-audit, "I-think-we-should-start-seeing-other-people" pain.

I begin dreading Wednesday evenings around bedtime Tuesday. By Wednesday lunchtime, I'm feeling nausea that has nothing to do with my midday meal of organic yam and raw kale from my Biggest Loser lunchbox.

Then I show up at the workout and scan the group to see what fresh dose of humiliation awaits. Last week it was the 65-year-old guy who dropped me like a tub of Grecian Formula. It was inspiring. Really.

A few weeks ago it was the one-armed dude. OK, he had 2 arms, but one was in a sling. He flew past me like a, um, person with fully functioning body parts.

Did I mention the 50-something mom? The 15-year-old lad who I swear was on training wheels last month? Both quicker than me. A fellow could choke on all this inspiration.

Why keep at it? Like most cyclists, I'm stubborn, masochistic and a little delusional. All this toil and trouble have to make us stronger, right?

Plus, I do eventually finish ahead of some people -- the ones who come to one Wednesday and never return.

I may not be fast, but I'm pretty good at one thing: showing up.