Sunday, January 31, 2010

Cycling Coaches

Coach Wheelarosa, crystals in hand, chants and dances at the recent Tour of New Braunfels.

A lot of bike racers have coaches. In my few years of racing I've witnessed countless friends hand over chunks of their paychecks each month to their coach who gives them workouts and basic training instructions.

The topic of coaches is often debated and everyone generally agrees they are beneficial to most racers as long as the racer is disciplined enough to take instruction and trust their coach. Heart rate packages, power packages and customized bike fits, the prices all vary depending on the coach, what you are willing to shell out, and how much interaction with them you want.

A lot of Cat 1 and 2 racers are getting coached by either local PRO's, guys who live in other states, and I've even heard of overseas coaches for a Cat 3 racer I competed against last year.

Most coaches analyze power or heart rate data sent via the interweb to them and tailor a periodization plan to the racer based on what they see from the data as well as the accompanying email describing the racer's sensations.

This season I decided to take my training up a notch, and after looking at the myriad of coaching options out there, I opted for the most high-end coaching available. My coach isn't some badass Italian coach at the Mapei Cycling Institute, but instead someone a little closer to home. Or actually in my home.

Juan Benedicto Wheelarosa began coaching me this off-season while we were on our epic West Coast Bike tour I mentioned in a brief post late last year. When we returned, my coach moved into my house and began sleeping on my couch.

Coach's quarters.

This type of hands on coaching has been incredibly beneficial to my fitness. The reasons:

- I receive daily workouts- not via email, not over the phone, but straight from Coach after he wakes up sometime around 9:30 to 10am every morning.

- I often get a strange concoction of recovery drink after training rides which is handed to me when I get off the bike. Wheelarosa loves an excuse to drink smoothies or eat energy bars even if he hasn't been working out. I usually get the leftovers.

- Because he's not otherwise employed, Wheelarosa has plenty of time to research tinctures and other bizarre fitness wives-tales which I get to try out for him. Sometimes I feel like a guinea pig, but when you're drinking a solution of sodium bicarbonate mixed with agave nectar and laced with peppermint oil, who cares. (Warning, this drink can cause violent diarrhea in some
athletes
.)

- Since I'm his only client Wheelarosa is able to spend a lot of time on my training plan, and because we have a long history of competing with one another in all types of activities, he enjoys making me suffer by giving me brutal workouts ("Ride into the 40 mph headwind for 2 hours then go do 3 sets of hill repeats on Lost Creek.")

- Wheelarosa is retired from bike racing, but will still attend many of my races and offer strategy suggestions as well as other vaguely spiritual Native American dances and chants meant to invoke strong attacks from myself and my bewildered teammates while intimidating our hapless opponents.
Coach's cardboard foot locker containing his herbs and the makings of a few precious tinctures.

Although we're only a couple of races into the season, I feel stronger than ever, and I must say- thanks Coach!

Monday, January 25, 2010

TWM Training Camp 2010

Tron Rubixxson's view from the team car on one of the 3 epic training rides TWM embarked upon last weekend.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

2010-The Future?!?

The future is here, now that it is 2010. In the future (now) there are cyborg wooly mammoths roaming the luscious hills of Norwalia. The only humans who matter live in Norwalia and are very handsome. Their bodies are finely sculpted pieces of artwork thanks to the hours of volleyball and frisbee they enjoy on the white sand beaches which are surrounded by the luscious hills I spoke of earlier.
These beaches are of white sand with tiny flecks of real gold sprinkled throughout. The reflection coming off this sand is so unbelievably luminous that it bestows all who venture upon it with a deep, rich, erotic tan. In Norwalia there is no GOD, just Gods with oaken legs so stunningly cultivated that they are the envy of all the mortals who continue to inhabit the surrounding lands.
Next to these Gods are Goddesses with equally as stunning legs and equally as enviable physiques. These Gods and Goddesses follow the advice of a few mystical shamans and sexual senseis who they spar with psychologically and in an alluringly physical way.
Above all, everyone is extremely overjoyed to live in the future in Norwalia. I think I hear a cyborg mammoth trumpeting now...