Cabin Fever

I have not ridden my bike outdoors in weeks. Three weeks, to be exact. I've only missed 3 training days, but I just can't seem to get outdoors. I have excuses, of course... too many deadlines and obligations to ride in the morning, too much aversion to riding in gale-force winds, too sick.

So I set up the trainer, or the rollers, and I ride. Every day. TV blaring, fan turned way up. I ride and ride and ride and stare through a TV, for hours and hours and hours. Sometimes Will rides with me, sometimes he comes back from a Hermes ride to Millstone, sees me setting up the trainer, and makes fun of me.

A realization: I have not made any forward progress in 3 weeks.

At least I have the occasional distraction. For example, this week Will and I got to ride with Chris and Sparky in their dorm, across the parking lot. It is an undergrad dorm. We trained in the common area next to the front door. It felt like we were on display. Worse, all of the little freshmens came over to talk to Chris and Sparky, both of whom were behind me, and I was on rollers! I had to fight the instinctive compulsion to turn around, over and over and over. It was fun, but ugh.

The next night, Will and I were doing 90 seconds of Light... 18 times. That was fun. Luckily, we were able to occupy our time with studying for his Physiology quiz and discussing the stupidity that is VH1. And then Will sprinted.

Will has sprinted on trainers hundreds of times that I've seen, probably thousands lifetime. This time, though, the lock-ring on his trainer could not handle the Power (in this case, capitalization is appropriate). His rear wheel shifted left and right with each pedal stroke, with greater and greater amplitude, until CLANK! The quickrelease slid out of the trainer, the bike started falling sideways, Will's left foot unclipped, the rear wheel hopped up off the metal roller, and everything stopped.

The ensuing silence, which followed what had been the jet-engine sounds of Will's windup, was eerie. He caught his breath, then inspected the damage: The tire had heated the plastic housing around the trainer's roller, and the plastic had melted. If he'd take a damn picture, I'd show you photographic evidence. I swear, though, Will's sprint MELTED PLASTIC.

Will 1, trainer 0.

On a completely different topic, I blew my nose yesterday and my quad cramped up. Explain that one.