The Bike Bum Diaries

Training Dirty

I watch a bead of sweat drip from my nose and explode on the top tube of my bicycle. The explosion has an uncanny syncopation with a blast from Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum pistol that he brandishes with the swagger that one would expect from him. Yes it is that terrible time of year. The snowdrifts are higher than our spirits and the ice comes out of nowhere to remind us of our mortality on skinny tires. Obsessively watching watches, timers, and computers until they finally count down to our magic number and we can get off the damn trainer. What a terrible thing we must deal with to have those magical days in the spring when the sun is shining on our faces and our legs feel as if they could never run out of energy. Cyclists deal with these trainer days all over the world with the hope of an early spring to get out there and ride with the wind whipping at our faces alleviating us from the sweat induced madness of stagnation. There are a few exceptions to the rule of winter woe. Those lucky few that get to call home those places that remain bearable year round, and can train outside with no in-home trainer in sight. I would call these individuals more soft than lucky. The pain of cold weather, of sweating on the trainer, of riding for hours and going no where makes us appreciate that perfect sunny day so much more. So in terms of riding a trainer, sweating inside, dreaming of that magical place that miraculously has 70 degree temps year round I have one thing to say, “Do ya feel lucky….Well do ya punk?”