Yesterday was my first road bike ride of the season. The weather has prevented me from leaving the safety of the trainer until now. There’s something about going 20-30 mph on a bike with only 2 square inches of rubber between me, and ice, and road that has kept me indoors. But yesterday was different — the tri gods are waking from their winter slumber– slowly — to provide the weather we need.
It was still cold — as were my muscles. The plan is to do an out and back — 40 minutes each way. We start on 10-mile creek and head toward the interstate. I’ve done this before, many times. I start out in the aero position — averaging 300W — that didn’t last long. But I pushed, watching the beautiful winter scenery fly by. The trainer has nothing on this. The winter winds were crisp, and slowed me tremendously, but I didn’t mind – last time I was on this course I was fighting 90+ degree temps — this will be a good ride.
Ask me four years ago and I’d tell you I’d never be on a road bike. I was a non-competitive mountain biker and that was it. I was very content. Roads seemed boring — too repetitive and lacking in the technical, rush-packed downhill. My opinion hasn’t changed — road biking is a very different sport than diving down the foothills — but I do it for the sport.
My legs burned. When I stood off my seat my quads stretched like an old rubber band — the only thing I could feel was that they were somehow both burning and numb at the same time – I assume that’s a good thing. I check my Garmin – heart rate is just under 150 bmp — I’m not working very hard. Time to start pushing.
The pain increases. Inevitably the question always filters to my brain — why am I doing this? My brain always has a clever answer — “because you are an idiot.” The sport seems so simple – swim, then bike, then run. There isn’t a destination – most races you end up where you start — or you have to drive back to the start anyway. For ”age-groupers” like myself there isn’t any money — in fact it will cost way more than you’ll ever get back. I manage to be injured more now than I ever did in my mountain biking days. So what is it? swim – bike - run – swim – bike - run – train train train. The time, energy, money, and dedication that it takes to compete literally changes your life. So, why?
We reach the half-way point and turn around. The wind is with us and there is a slight downhill. We start flying back, full aero-position.
Boise brags that it has the “toughest half marathon in the Northwest.” Around here it’s known as the “Race to Robie Creek” — 8 miles uphill, five miles down hill. I didn’t run three years ago — I didnt even know if I could. But I was about to find out.
I had a few beers at a work celebration and I told one of my buddies that I’d run the race with him. The only problem is I only had two weeks to train. I weighed just over 200 pounds, was in what I would call “average shape” and in no way was ready for this monster of a race. I went on two training runs before the race – and I managed to injure my left knee. I learned later that it was my IT band and I ended up doing physical therapy for a month after the race.
I showed up to the start line. I had no idea what I was doing — I ran with my mountain biking camelback on my back — probably adding 5 additional pounds to haul up the mountain.

Race to Robie Creek 4.21.2007 -- at the start line
I suffered and watched mile marker after mile marker go by. I made it to the summit and even took the time to take a picture.

The downhill is tough. At mile 11 the course turns flat and you are left with two miles to suffer to the finish line. Gravity is no longer on my side. My knee wasnt on my side. At this point I realized my camelback was completely unnecessary because they gave us water every mile. My legs are cramping – my stomach is burning — I hurt everywhere. I push forward — and then I see it. The finish line, the people cheering, the giant LED clock, the announcer screaming, I’ve never felt such energy. I crossed the finish line at 2:26:29. Never in my life have I felt so bad, and so good at the exact same time.
I was addicted. This is why I’m here. This is why I do triathlon.
My Garmin says I’m flying down 10-mile creek road at 27 mph. I feel fast — but gravity and the wind are on my side. Greg, my training partner, is a couple of minutes ahead of me, but I won’t catch him. He’s still a much stronger rider than me anyway.
Total workout: 25.41 miles @ 1 hr 25 minutes.
Weight: 184 lbs
Body fat: 24.1%