Speaking of bikes and starting the year with a wet, cold, and very windy ride, I’ve been using a Polar heart rate monitor while I ride (and climb, dance, yoga, whatever mostly) on and off for the last 2 1/2 years, to give me an idea of what my subjective feel of training compares to what’s actually going on in my body. It also somehow helps motivate me to do the training, week after week.
Last year I decided cycling is my new dancing, so, two things: First, 2018 is the first year in more than 20 years I didn’t do a single dance class, which I feel rather good about. And second, training on a bike is dancing for me, so in fact I did a lot of dancing last year. There’s some gaps in my year, March in Narrm, Australia, April without a bike, weeks here and there where I didn’t train or didn’t use the monitor, and at some point dropping using it for yoga and core. Altogether, I did a lot more training last year than I have in recent years, and cycling is the reason. From doing it to bulk up my endurance for dancing, to doing it because hooning through a wet winter forest is one of life’s deep pleasures, to doing it because it was the only thing that sorted my knee out (and 2017’s riding is entirely why I can do squats and pliés without my patella feeling like it’s being gutted), to doing it because I love it and love the suffering and honestly would ride for hours a day if I could arrange it.
And seeing it change my body. After all those years of ballet and dance, and yoga and climbing, all of which I saw change me depending on how intense I was in each of them, cycling is the first new discipline I’ve got serious about since I was a student. So, here’s 2018, and all the training I did with a heart rate monitor strapped under my boobs.
Each 10-minute-ish lap of Tempelhofer Feld: shove in an aero position into a 20km/h headwind for medium amounts of discomfort along the southern section of the airport; on the west and north, sprint ten times in 10 second blocks of increasing intensity with 20 second not-slacking-off pace in-between; wonder if I will ever feel love again by the end of that, recover for the eastern section and do it all again. Four times. It’s not so much about absolute speed at the moment (though faster is nicer, and I’d love to be doing this on a road bike rather than my cyclocross bike) as it is about mental and emotional discipline to handle what is frankly unpleasant, and which I really, really want to bail out of every time. Physiologically, I’m not sure what it does, but I find I notice if I don’t make it one of my core training sessions. On the eighth sprint on one session my brain went “Hard No,” pulled the red Emergency Stop handle, which in retrospect, looking at my heart hitting 193bpm seemed to be a pretty sensible and clear message.
Finding new ways to enjoy suffering. This one is mostly “ugh.” Long, intense session training, out of the saddle, over-gearing (as much as possible on a cyclocross compact chainset) for an entire lap of Tempelhofer Feld. Recover for a lap and repeat. After, I found blisters on my thumbs from rubbing against the metal pins on the shifters. The data from my heart rate monitor and speed make their own series of hills and valleys, ascents and descents.
I was up in Hamburg on Thursday, there and back in 12 hours, saw very little except Großneumarkt (and all of Frohstoff and the wonderful mob there) a glimpse of Elbphilharmonie, and quite a bit of Hamburg Hauptbahnhof. Totally could live there, port city and all.
We went and saw Mission Impossible: Fallout and laughed for 2½ hours at the brilliant kinetic absurdity: Tom Cruise, part of the Jackie Chan and Buster Keaton lineage of getting audiences to pay stacks to watch them do mad stunts. We ate chocolate and ice cream and nachos – cinema nachos! – and drunk Sekt. In the Kino. This is Germany and everywhere is drinking erlaubt. Ten years today, ago Dasniya and I met in her Fabrik studio in Uferstraße.
Melanie Lane messages with an offer of cassette players. From Germany. Big ’70s portable boxes. Yesterday, our brilliant tech crew sort getting the output to input into the desk and I rack them up. Our tech booth looks dead serious now.