What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Meaner

#tbt a training ride in December, complete with a ten degree drop in temperature, 20 mph cross winds and sleet.

You know what really is grinding my gears today?

Well, other than the constant back spasms - I feel like this is my "new normal." Or how I was going to kick ass in my age category at Calvin's Challenge today? I digress.

What really pisses me off, just makes me so full of hate, is that I spent the past nearly-six months training in shitty conditions for no good reason. In temperatures less than 45-degrees Fahrenheit. Winds plowing from Iowa anywhere from 10 to 20 mph. Snow and sleet, because at least that was better than rain (or so I told myself). Ice. Mud. Investing in sub-freezing temperature cycling clothing. Expired Hot Hands packs. Hot Hands packs that weren't enough to cut the chill. Fingers and toes that were white with cold (Reynaud's Phenomenon, anyone?) Easing into showers to try and warm myself up. Scrubbing wet gravelly bits out of my chamois.  Fucked up derailleurs.

And  when there were weeks of sub-zero temperatures, and I still needed to get my base miles in, I got on my bKool smart trainer and ground away the hours on Zwift. Let's be honest, despite the interactive applications and automatic resistance adjustment of the smart trainer, it is really just marginally better than the classic trainer. Talk about a literal pain in the ass.

The hours I spent in the gym, doing the boring grunt work for strength training - God, how I forced myself to love the hatred of pumping iron early in the mornings. Even before I joined on with Lucas Woody of Human Movement for some professional coaching, I was in the gym two to three times a week, performing the Necessary Evil, warding off the bad vibes that cause over-use injuries.

I mean - that's the kind of crap I put myself through to get strong enough to do Dirty Kanza 200 and Race Across the West back to back. And, I get it - that was my choice, and there are some athletes I know who are really content to be coach potatoes over the winter and come out in the spring to still kick my ass, and there are professional athletes who do this daily. But, damn, people.

I expect, as my "new normal" fades to "good old thirty-something bod" that I'm used to, I will have some decisions I need to make. In the here and now, I'm very much a 50/50 when it comes down to getting back into ultra-endurance rides or crawling into a hole to die in my own misery. That sounds ridiculous, but here I am. I have my reservations: I'm scared, I'm tired, I'm in pain.

But, I have never had the personality that stays down. You throw me to the wolves, I come back leading the pack. I bury you in the grave you dug for me. Phoenix from the ashes. #PhelpsFace All of that typical meme-worthy blah blah.

Seriously, though. I have worked so hard to get to almost there. I have unfinished business in Ohio, Kansas and out west and on the CASA track. I have shit that needs doing. I'm a resilient bitch that believes in #htfu and testing her limits. I don't want to be a has-been before I ever was.

What doesn't kill you makes you meaner.