Too cold to ride? Too much ride? Time to dial back...

So I took a couple of cold weather rides this week to try to stay somewhat fit after oinking out on all the holiday dishes of slow cooked chuck roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, meatballs, lingonberries, salad, green beans, cookies, caramel corn, and uh, more.

The weather was clear after a lot of rain, but in the low to mid 40s, which to me at least, is seriously nippy when you’re in the wind chill of riding the bike between 15-20 mph. I covered my ears, wore long fingered gloves and put toe covers on my cleats. I wore a long sleeve fleece-lined jersey over a long sleeve shirt, and took off. And I stayed pretty warm. One ride was 33 miles, the other, the next day, was 51. On the last five miles of the second ride, I noticed my toes were numb. And visions of a hot shower danced in my head.

This cold weather riding made me think about a question. At what point is it too cold to ride? And beyond that, on long organized endurance rides, like the Death Ride in my area, which involves climbing and descending five peaks, at what point is a ride just too much ride? When is it just too freakin’ long to be worth it?

We all ride at different levels to be sure, and some of us can tolerate cold better than others. But, today, I could have gone on a ride. But the weather is once again in the low 40s and cloudy. And I couldn’t get up for it today. Just wasn’t up for the cold.

That no-go decision came from a gut check of what I want out of a ride. And in cold weather, I want to be warm enough to not be bothered – i.e. numb in the extremities -- by how cold it is. And no, I don’t care if that’s considered, uh, unmanly!

Same for extra long rides with big doses of tough climbs. Sure, as in the Death Ride, it’s considered a distinctive badge of major endurance to ride the whole thing from start to finish. But I’ve ridden all of its climbs individually or in combinations with buddies. And the thought of running them all together in one ride, is to me, too much ride. Overkill. Not fun. To me, four of the climbs and descents are more than enough of a ride to sufficiently kick one’s ass, while providing a legitimate sense of accomplishment. The Death Ride’s fifth climb, the last, comes at the hottest time of day -- the afternoon -- against a headwind. Now to me, that’s not worth doing. It means you have to go into it pedaling the bike at a snail’s pace, exhausted, until finally – hopefully -- you reach the end, having sufficiently beaten yourself up to declare yourself a bad ass. But really, when you really think about it, nobody cares if you’ve just made it through a tough ride.  Nobody!

We’d like accolades and respect from others, but ultimately, we’re riding for ourselves. Yes, it feels great to know we’ve conquered a big physical challenge. But that “I’m such a badass” feeling fades away like a tan in December (except in Australia, South America and Africa!).

So why kill yourself? Why not get in a long ride that isn’t as long, one that challenges your endurance, but one that doesn’t leave you trembling in the fetal position, sucking your thumb and mumbling to yourself? Pushing yourself to ridiculous extremes is fine – if you like extreme punishment. But let’s face it, at some point it becomes, oh I don’t know…kinda stupid!

I used to think running and finishing a marathon would put me into an elite status of athletic toughness. I thought that if I did a marathon, I’d feel superior to those that hadn’t. But running five straight marathons – one a year – many years ago, cured me of that mentality.

On the first marathon, I didn’t train long enough, and then caught a cold. I finished the thing, but it completely beat me mentally and emotionally. I even remember sobbing in utter misery toward the end, barely moving on cramped legs, no more energy, wondering what the hell I was doing this for!

The next year I trained enough, didn’t catch a cold, and finished with a much-improved time. Same thing for the third try, got a better time. Not as fast as my goal, but a better time. But on the fourth one, my time slipped. And on the fifth one, my time slipped more.

After that I took inventory of this marathon running business. I figured I’d reached the peak of my speed on the third run. I remember how I felt at the finish of each one – I’d ask myself why I had just subjected my body to such a thorough thrashing – and each time, I couldn’t come up with an answer. I’d told myself that it was a physical challenge that would make be admired by others with less dedication, strength and endurance. But then it dawned on me, I’d been trying to prove something to myself. Nobody else really cared that I ran the race or how fast, or how slowly. So all I ended up with was a minimally boosted ego along with a beat up body. I decided the self-flagellation was no longer worth it.

I know that super endurance events are big deals for a lot of athletes. I say, go for it, more power to you, do your thing. But I learned that self knowledge is what makes or breaks the value of a long run, or a long cycling foray or any extended physical outing. To me, when you know what you want out of a run or a ride, or any other physical activity, you’re on track to get the most out of it. You know how far to push yourself, and how far not to push yourself. And staying within a reasonable framework is the key to fully enjoying your activity. If you don’t stay within yourself, you’re sure to do one thing, and it’s not fun: Burn out.

So in the spirit of knowing yourself enough to dial into your cycling or other physical challenges with maximum benefit, here’s a youthful Clint Eastwood, playing Dirty Harry, on this very point:

Until next time, always remember to put a helmet on before you get on the bike. Then do all you can to keep the rubber side down!

-- Mark Eric Larson

Mark Eric Larson has written two books of essays, "The NERVE...of Some People's Kids," and "Don't Force it, Get a Bigger Hammer. To read, visit: 
http://www.scribd.com/Mark%20Eric%20Larson/shelf
His blog of personal essays is at: http://marksmuzings.blogspot.com/