Full steam ahead!
The rides we go through "the hard way," in survival mode, are both an opportunity to hone our physical fitness and sharpen our minds. This is the story of a painful but rewarding experience that David Desjardins went through.
Bruno slides down to my level and suggests that we take turns.
"Okay, but not too loud."
I could have said nothing at all and it wouldn't have made any difference. We left the city with the wind at our backs, shifting into high gears, taking advantage of the wind's push to reach excessive speeds that made our carbon wheels roar.
But as soon as we started the long climb to Sainte-Brigitte from Beauport, we added two more layers. I took my turn at the front in front of the sand quarry, where we passed a group of motocross kamikazes. They were burning gas, I was burning cartridges. And one. And two. My appearances at the front would be sporadic. Symbolic.
I'm approaching that feeling where my whole body feels the pain of an effort that is essentially being made by my legs. My bronchial tubes are also starting to irritate. I hate it. I love it. I know that what I'm doing here is paying off: riding with people who are stronger than me, being pushed to my limits. It's high-quality training, with continuous intensity, which often pushes me to the edge. For a long time.
It's not a race, but at times, the enthusiasm we put into it makes me think it is. And there's nothing better than a situation like this to gauge your fitness level and force yourself to tap into a part of yourself that your brain often tells you to leave in the locker room: what you're capable of accomplishing even when you think you've reached your limit.
From a fitness perspective, in summer, I love nothing more than these rides . In this case, I just did 1.5 hours at a normalized power equivalent to 86% of my CP20 (maximum sustained effort over 20 minutes). Indoors, when I reach 80%, I'm very happy. Outside, I replicate the training effect of the group inside. And here, the power of the person I'm riding with is a huge motivation: above all, don't give up.
When we reach the bottom of Calvary Hill, I'm already exhausted. I'm gasping for breath. I dream of an extra gear. Meanwhile, Bruno climbs the slab in front of me. 53-23. He still has plenty of energy left. The bastard.
I could get discouraged. But that spurs me on. I know he could drop me. That he's waiting for me. But I also know that we've been going pretty fast for a long time, and the mere fact that I'm still here pushing like crazy is proof of my fitness and the efforts I made during the winter.
My back, legs, and arms ache. On the way back, the data provides an objective framework for the story my body is telling. I look at the figure that shows the physical stress caused by such a short Ride the TSS, or training stress score) and I am amazed. The cost is high. But it is an investment in my fitness. rides are a blow to the body; you feel like you've been pounded, like a boxer. And at the same time, the mixture of pride and power you get from them is as invaluable for your confidence as the fitness they give you.