My garage is my chrysalis, my pain cave, and where I go to heal. Spinning on the bike for over three hours, I covered 44 miles while meticulously practicing my nutrition strategy, timing my eating and drinking to ensure my body adapts to a high cadence and long duration expected of the 100-mile ride next August. It wasn’t the speed or distance I was going for, but sustaining a heart rate that would burn a higher percentage of fat than other sources.
The sweat dripped from my brow, soaking a towel draped over the handlebars, a reminder of the effort involved in maintaining an aero-position on my triathlon bike, where even a slight shift in form can impact my speed. The room was dim, with blue mood lights illuminating the space behind the monitor that tracks my workout with an app fueled by AI to keep my workouts aligned with my Functional Threshold Power (FTP), allowing me to build strength without risking burnout.
The goal to shed extra pounds looms large in my mind, a necessary sacrifice to ease the climb up 10,000 feet of elevation next August; every bead of sweat now promises a blessing later. Despite fueling appropriately, I felt a paradoxical emptiness accompanied by waves of nausea, a reminder that hunger will be a constant companion on this journey to the Starvation Xtri named after one of the reservoirs used to swim in for the event. How apropos. To endure this state, I have to continually remind myself of the need to temper my desires, honing my body into a form capable of tackling the challenges ahead. As I simplify the variables, and perfect each part of my day, my goal is to see this repeatable success by simply beating myself each day. Drip by drip.