My favorite television show is "Top Gear," a British series about car, mostly high end cars. It's sort of "Car and Driver" meets "Mad" magazine.
One of the things that hooked me on the show was when when of the hosts tests a high-end Ferrari and is screaming down a track at 150 mph, there's a display of true joy.
I figured that I would probably never experience that sort of thrill. After all, these yahoos are driving Mercedes, Jaguars and BMWs, all powered by engines that could provide electricity for most medium-sized cities. The cost of these vehicles exceed the economies of most countries on this planet.
Unless there's some dramatic turn of fate, I'll never be able to afford such a vehicle, and until yesterday, I've resigned myself to never feeling that sort of rush. You, know, the feeling that you are in charge of machine that's at the cutting edge.
But yesterday I got a new bicycle. Sure, it sound ridiculous to compare a bike to a Ferrari, but as soon as I got on this machine, and rode it around the block, I understood why the Top Gear guys get carried away with their hooting and hollering and their twisted, over the top metaphors.
As I took this bike out for a shake down ride into the hills northeast of Wausau, I completely got it. I wanted to yell. It was like riding a rocket, and at the same time it was so comfortable and smooth that I felt like was flying. I'm not sure how this could be. But there it is.
So although I am trying to build my life on something other than things, this is one thing that has opened a new door to me. And wow, it felt good to go for a ride.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Trail fitness
I saw a couple of other runners out at Nine Mile County Forest and Recreational Area in Rib Mountain, which is rare.
This is the quiet time out there in the woods. The snow -- and even the wet -- from the cross country ski trails is long gone, but the area is still closed to mountain bikers. It's still open to hunters (it's turkey season, I think) and hikers, but for the most part, most people do that stuff in other parts of the county.
For me, it's my favorite time to go out there. The mosquitoes and ticks aren't overwhelming, and it's cool and the air has that spring dampness to it that feels good in the lungs. (I'll probably come down with blasto, though.)
So this is the time of year I like to ramp up my running, and the Nine Mile trails allow me to build up my legs without the pounding of pavement. Buddy loves it, because he can run off leash, sniffing and looking and running through the brush to his heart's delight.
I'm becoming increasingly addicted to trail running. I used to avoid it because it's slow. The uneven terrain means that my feet land in different positions, and the legs had to react in different ways. That's a sort of uncomfortable feeling. And the softness of the grass and dirt meant that muscles have to work harder.
It wasn't until earlier this year that the notion hit me that I should embrace trail running because of those things. That sore muscles and having to work harder would actually build strength, and make one faster on the roads. It's a testament to my own density that I hadn't made this obvious conclusion before.
So last week Buddy and I went out there on Saturday morning. Although I told myself that could go as slow as I wanted, and time didn't matter, I hit the stopwatch on the Timex anyway. I was sort of pleased that I finished the 10-k loop in a little over an hour. It wrecked me a bit. I was tired and sore when I got back, and both Buddy and I spent about two hours of recovery nap time on the couch.
We went back out there again yesterday, and soon into the run I felt kind of strange. It wasn't a slog like it usually is. I didn't feel heavy and slow. Instead I had the strange feeling of being quick and light. Was this a byproduct of blasto, I wondered?
Maybe it was. But as I clicked through kilometers, I noticed that I was going quite a bit faster than last week, on average, about a minute per mile.
I think I might be getting fitter. What a strange and wonderful feeling that is.
This is the quiet time out there in the woods. The snow -- and even the wet -- from the cross country ski trails is long gone, but the area is still closed to mountain bikers. It's still open to hunters (it's turkey season, I think) and hikers, but for the most part, most people do that stuff in other parts of the county.
For me, it's my favorite time to go out there. The mosquitoes and ticks aren't overwhelming, and it's cool and the air has that spring dampness to it that feels good in the lungs. (I'll probably come down with blasto, though.)
So this is the time of year I like to ramp up my running, and the Nine Mile trails allow me to build up my legs without the pounding of pavement. Buddy loves it, because he can run off leash, sniffing and looking and running through the brush to his heart's delight.
I'm becoming increasingly addicted to trail running. I used to avoid it because it's slow. The uneven terrain means that my feet land in different positions, and the legs had to react in different ways. That's a sort of uncomfortable feeling. And the softness of the grass and dirt meant that muscles have to work harder.
It wasn't until earlier this year that the notion hit me that I should embrace trail running because of those things. That sore muscles and having to work harder would actually build strength, and make one faster on the roads. It's a testament to my own density that I hadn't made this obvious conclusion before.
So last week Buddy and I went out there on Saturday morning. Although I told myself that could go as slow as I wanted, and time didn't matter, I hit the stopwatch on the Timex anyway. I was sort of pleased that I finished the 10-k loop in a little over an hour. It wrecked me a bit. I was tired and sore when I got back, and both Buddy and I spent about two hours of recovery nap time on the couch.
We went back out there again yesterday, and soon into the run I felt kind of strange. It wasn't a slog like it usually is. I didn't feel heavy and slow. Instead I had the strange feeling of being quick and light. Was this a byproduct of blasto, I wondered?
Maybe it was. But as I clicked through kilometers, I noticed that I was going quite a bit faster than last week, on average, about a minute per mile.
I think I might be getting fitter. What a strange and wonderful feeling that is.
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