In an effort to to follow my training plan and teach my body to burn fat over carbs [for obvious reasons], I have one ride each week that exceeds 2 hours.
Normally a 2 hour bike ride would elicit some degree of excitement – and in this case, it kinda does…well, sort of. It’s an indoor ride. You know, the kind where you pedal hard and go no where. Its a ride where the GPS says you’ve climbed 37 feet over the course of 34 miles, but you know it’s some artifact in the data probably caused by solar flares. You didn’t just climb 1.088 feet per mile.
Not that it matters a whole lot.
It was 11 degrees today, and the roads are still snow-packed. This may sound like one of my yearly I’M GETTING SICK OF WINTER rants. I assure you that I’m standing strong in spite of 8 weeks in the grip of a polar vortex. Though I must mention that one of my friends just got back from a week of cycling in Tucson. Even though they got sun tans and rode across breathtakingly beautiful desert vistas, I don’t resent them that much. [DARN THEIR BLACK SOULS] I won’t be getting melanoma riding in the basement. That much I know.
Still, there’s a lot about indoor riding that’s compelling. For one, I was able to watch the Olympics and make phone calls while riding with…get this…NO HANDS. Outside I can peel a banana and pedal sans hands – but no further multitasking is possible, or advisable. Another perk of cellar cycling is that you can most always have a fresh cup of ice water with a twist of lime. When running low, all it takes is a quick phone call upstairs. I can usually talk my daughter into stopping what she’s doing to make a delivery. And lest I forget, when it’s cloudy outside and I’m left with our marginal indoor lighting, the night-time feature is activated on my bike computer. It glows white on black. Quite fetching.
33.46 miles at 17.4 mph, 37 feet climbed with an average HR of 121.