As usual, I wake up and immediately begin breathing deeply, essentially giving myself a full-body workout so that I’m properly warmed up before VQ, aka the Cycling Class from Hell. Some of my triathloning colleagues go for a run in the morning, but really, talk about a recipe for injury. I shake my head at these neophytes.
I generally don’t eat before VQ as I don’t want all of my cycling power going instead towards my digestive system, but I do take along some GU to have during class. Let’s see – it’s about a 2-hour class; 8 GUs should do it?
After cleaning everything out of my garage so that I have a clear path to my car, I tuck Sálome in carefully and set out for the approximately 2.2-mile drive, typically fraught with worry because of assclownish driving, but I’ll be especially careful today, and I’m giving myself plenty of time to get there.
2 hours later
Geez, what the HELL is with everyone today?? You’d think they’d never seen someone driving with appropriate caution while transporting precious cargo or something! Hmm, maybe it’s some obscure Polish holiday, Kazcmierovski Day or something, and everyone was honking their horns in celebratory enthusiasm. Yeah, that’s it.
After I park, I pull out my flares and use them to delineate a path to the door of VQ, and then caaaaaarefully bring Sálome in. I’m kind of sorry I had to ask that little old lady to move out into the street so she didn’t clog the sidewalk, but she looked pretty nimble navigating the potholes. No sense taking chances with something as precious as an SNB.
Once I set up on the computrainer, I put little orange cones in a circle around Sálome so that everyone can admire from a safe distance, as they do. Once class starts, however, my laser focus comes into play, along with (I’ll admit) a touch of competitiveness.
Me: “Hey Colleen – good luck keeping up with me, even with those fancy Zipp wheels on your bike. Not helping you much NOW, are they?”
Colleen, looking for excuses: “Umm, since we’re on trainers, the wheels really don’t make a diff.....”
Me: “Blah blah....I can’t heaaaaaar you, with the wind rushing by me so fast as I zoom past you all!”
Colleen, looking a bit flushed: “You might want to turn the fan dow......”
Me, interrupting: “Hey, look at the computer screen – I’m SO WAY ahead of you!”
Colleen, for some reason gritting her teeth: “That’s because I have the Powertap on my wheel, you buffoo.......”
Whatever else she said was lost as suddenly Annette, who’s in the row in front of me, turns and launches a Sport Bean in my direction. What ho? Luckily, I’ve mentally prepared myself for these kinds of stealth attacks from pretenders to my Triathlon Goddess throne. I dodge the dangerous little bullet, deflecting it across the room harmlessly. Well, somewhat harmlessly. I think it gets Karin L. square in the eye, but I’m sure the blindness is only temporary. I shoot Annette a fulminating glare, and she grins cheerily at me, as always. The rest of the class passes without incident.
As I’m leaving, even though I’ve taken my time packing up so that the more clumsily oafish among us can make their way out, I get to the lobby and run into a bottleneck, or our "Herbie", as we would say at Wharton. Annette, chatting with someone, telling him useful information about the Tri Club. Sigh! Can’t she be a little more self-absorbed like the rest of us, at least once in a while? Worried that she might start gesticulating wildly with that Australian enthusiasm she’s known for, I stop.“NO SUDDEN MOVES,” I bark. “That’s right people, keep those hands steady, where I can see them, comin’ on through. Careful, careful......”
I gingerly edge past them and make my way to my car cautiously, since it’s now dark out. I’m thinking – maybe Sálome will just be my inside bike, since the world is clearly a dangerous, unpredictable place, and trying to traverse in it with an SNB is almost impossible. I’m exhausted. This training plan of mine – again, I cannot stress enough, don’t try it at home......
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