Metacognitive Strategies

So part of my job for the last 15+ years has involved designing of learning experiences.  One set of strategies I often think about are metacognitive strategies, which are basically mental tools for thinking about your own thinking.  It's sort of a hyper-heady and kind of annoying concept, but also is pretty powerful set of tools when you're learning.  Most people use them all the time without realizing them, like when you're reading, you check for your own understanding or paraphrase in your mind.  But sometimes you need to consciously be aware of the way you think in order to improve or learn.

These past few weeks I've finally tuned into the way I think when I'm cycling.   I described it to a teammate of "being aware of my downward spiral of misery."  It's a phase that I always get to on these long rides.  But what sort of clicked recently was just being aware that it's happening, letting it happen, knowing I will be miserable for a while, and realizing I will re-surface on the other side at some point with some insights on my self and my riding.  The more I am aware it's happening the more likely I can control the duration of the spiral.  It doesn't necessarily make the cycling easier, but it makes the emotional barriers I've been dealing with a little easier to push through.

Rolling up Pescadero Creek in the rain.

So this past ride,  the downward spiral was long, slow, and hard. . .   We rode 73 miles and 6800 feet of climbing.   It started off with a few sprinkles and a good ride up Old La Honda, one of my standard favorite climbs.  The rain picked up as we did a very cold long 17 mile decent down to the coast.  We stopped for a snack break and I got a cup of tea which warmed me up a bit. My hands were very cold and I was pretty soaked, but so far, I was hanging in there mentally.

Next up was 2 serious climbs.  This included a good, hard 7.5 mile climb up Alpine Road from the coast.  Chris and I had driven that stretch a few weeks ago and I knew what was in store -- some grueling climbing.  The funny thing was, though, on that day,  I didn't even notice the climbing because I was distracted by the complete and utter misery of the weather.   All I remember is being really wet and cold, and thankful that I was climbing because it kept me warm.

And then we had a 7 mile descent, which was the most miserable and terrifying ride down a hill I've had.  It was about 45 degrees outside, raining. Then as you descend you pick up speed which makes it so much colder and the rain starts to pelt your face like little frozen stings at 20 mph.  My fingers were numb to the point where I had to stop several times just to shake them out because I couldn't shift or tell if I was breaking.   My face and lips were numb to the point I couldn't talk coherently.  I might have been crying but who could tell with all the rain.  This was an unsupported ride, so there was no one to call to come pick me up if I wanted to bail -- and I really really did.  There was no choice but to press onward.  There were no cars or other cyclists (shocker!) out there, so there were times I was completely alone out there.    In my downward spiral of misery, I had images of myself crashing and falling into a ravine and dying of hypothermia. 

Gritty backs on all of us.

We survived the descent and stopped at a public park that had an open shed type room and bathrooms with warm water.  I soaked my hands for several minutes to get feeling back in them.  I was shivering to my core and could not keep my hands still.  I wished I had a wetsuit on so that I could pee in it to warm me up.  We all huddled in the shed, gave each other long bear hugs to warm each other up, and then pushed on for the final 10 miles.

As we got to the last stretch on Cañada road, I felt a sense of relief.  I finally felt like I wasn't in peril of dying. I know this is overly dramatic, and while I admit I have a tendency towards hyperbole in my storytelling, this is really how I felt yesterday.

I don't think I did a very good job with my mental management, but I was able to, at a few brief moments, to step out of the miserable experience and realize I was improving my cycling and my emotional fortitude for the 7 hours we were out there.   And to remember that I was doing all of this for a good cause.   The moments of clarify were brief, and quickly pushed out by bouts of cursing.  But they were there. . . and that's something.

Complexities of Challenges

Over the last few weeks, I've meet up with lots of folks who ask me, "How's training going?"  I always pause and try to figure out if I should be positive . . . or honest.   The usual answer is, "It's really, really hard.  Oh, but I love it."    This is mostly honest, except maybe the part about loving it.    I don't hate it or even dislike it.  I might even Facebook "like" it, but love's not the word I should use right now.  But most folks are just being nice, and don't want to hear about my mental break downs and tales of woe.  So I just love it, and move on.

The reality is that it's not so easy to describe this journey.  Last week we did the hardest ride I've ever done.  It was only 65 miles, but it was 6500' or so of climbing, more than I've ever done.  In the middle of it was a 8 mile climb up Page Mill Road, which is windy and steep.  The GPS said we topped out at 22% grade during that climb.  I am sure those were the times when I thought even while standing up and lunging forward, I was still going to roll backwards.

The team going up Page Mill!

My ride group was small, just 4 of us, and we stuck together pretty well.  We were pretty much all silent on the entire climb.  I kept trying to start a conversation, but you can't get very far with 2 words at a time between gasps for air.  So I was left alone with my thoughts on the 1.5-2 hour climb.  And let me tell you, that was a not a good place to be.   During this time, I:

• quit the team at least 3 times
• convinced myself I was too weak to finish the climb
• wondered if getting hit by car would be better than trying to get to the top of the hill
• swore I would never ride my bike again
• cried alot on the inside
• cursed anyone who every said to me "It's only going to get harder."
• decided cancer wasn't worth curing
• cursed Chris for ever putting the stupid idea in my head that I could do this
• plotted ways to get my money back from registering for the event
• etc. etc. etc

By the time we finished, I was a raging, exhausted mess. And this was only a training ride.  I kept thinking, how on earth am I going to make it through the season and do the Death Ride, if  "It's only going to get harder?"  I still don't know the answer to that.

But when I got home, Chris said to me, "You don't look like the ride killed you physically.  You're walking around just fine.  You energy level is good. You don't seem like you bonked at all."  I was too tired to respond and a little annoyed, truthfully.

The next day, after a good nights sleep and a lot of food, I woke up with tired legs, but generally felt fine.  I went on a short 3 mile run to loosen my legs up.  And while I was running, I realized that Chris was right.  I was physically fine.  It was hard, but I was physically fine.  The real challenge the day before was mostly an emotional one -- a challenge so great that it really got in the way of me enjoying the ride at all and in fact, made the ride even harder than it was.  I'm starting to really understand the saying I often hear around endurance sports that it's 99% mental.

I signed up for this event because I wanted a challenge, which is a weird psychological thing.  I like the feeling of working towards a goal and pushing my limits, but it's also really hard and sometimes not fun.  But that's okay -- I don't have to love it all the time.  It's a type of satisfaction that builds over time -- it's not a quick win. That's what challenges are all about.

So I'm learning still.  Learning that I need to be in a positive mental space, that I find strength and motivation in encouragement and success, not in fear driven approaches, which I need to learn to ignore.  I need to remember that training is hard, but that it makes me stronger -- which will in turn make things easier, not harder.  I need to appreciate the improvements and success I have had.

To that end, here are some thing I should have focused on from last weekend:

• I felt like I improved my descending skills on that ride.  I managed to keep up with our coach on one of our more technical descents.  Granted, he likely slowed down for me, but I felt fast and in control and was not scared.  So that's huge!
• I ate and drank well.  I didn't bonk and my stomach was a-okay.
• The fish-granola bars were tasty (though  no one else wanted them)
• I did the hardest ride I've ever done and I survived!

So that's the update.  It's really, really hard.  And I sometime love it.  Sort of.

PS.  Can you help me cure cancer? I changed my mind.  It totally is worth curing. :-)
And I'm 30% to my goal!

Parallel Journey

So here we are about to embark upon our 6th Death Ride training ride this season.  One of the big challenges (aside from the obvious) is figuring out my nutrition on these rides.  We are out there for about 5+ hours right now so making sure I am getting enough calories into me is important to avoid running out of energy.  Many of the energy foods available are sweet -- too sweet for me.  Of course the sugar is what is partially giving you energy.  But I've been finding that I max out on sweet fairly early and just don't eat because it's unappealing.  So now I'm on parallel quest to the Death Ride to create my own savory energy type bar.  Also store bought energy bars add up in price when you're as hungry as we are.  Anyhoo. . .

Attempt #1:  Thai-inspired Energy Bar

As a preface, I have lots of other ideas that are probably better than this, but I was too lazy to go to the store.  So this is made solely from what is available in my pantry.  I realize these sound potentially disgusting, but I love fishy and peanuty flavors.  So maybe not for everyone. 

Dry Stuff

• 1.5 cups of oats
• 1/2 cup of whole wheat flour
• Sunflower seeds
• Pumpkin Seeds
• Peanuts
• White pepper
• Dried ginger
• Dried shallots
• Sesame Seeds
• Furikake

Wet Stuff

• Peanut Butter
• Molasses
• Vegetable Oil
• Fish Sauce
• Egg

Mix dry stuff and wet stuff separately.  Combine well.  Press in to greased cookie sheet.  Bake at 400 for 20 min or so.  Cut.  Bake at 250 for 15 more min.

Revision Ideas:

• Add in brown rice of some sort (puffed or cooked).  Less wheat flour.
• Some preserved lime or some such citrus.
• Maybe add in some dried cuttle fish for a bit more protein.  Maybe weird?
• Coconut cream

Other Ideas:

• Brown rice, egg, bacon   (based on this http://feedzonecookbook.com/2012/01/05/how-to-make-and-wrap-allen-lims-rice-cakes/ )
• Fried Rice  ideas . . .dried veggies, egg, ginger, green onion, soy sauce and some sort of rice