Challenge Roth Training: Week 17

9 weeks to go.

Week 17 totals:
Swim: 2. 2700m, 1hr 22min
Bike: 3. 9hrs 59min, Saturday Ride: 80mi
Run: 1. 3mi, 0hr 29min
Strength: 0. 0min
Total time: 11hr 50min

Challenges:

Spectacular helmet horns.

While this was technically a rest week, and the days leading up to the weekend were relatively light training-wise, Saturday and Sunday were filled with Bike MS, and oof. Saturday was a tough day. I felt pretty good for the first couple hours, but some unpleasant interactions with motorists kind of put a damper on things, and I just didn't feel like I had much power on the climbs. By the time I got to the farthest-out point on the course, with the relentless wind (20-30mph) and hills (5000 feet of climbing) and heat (96 degrees), I was pretty well fried. I found Gerry at the aid station/turnaround, and we sat in the shade for a bit (and had one of the most uncomfortable, invasive conversations of my life with an older gentleman who was hell-bent on giving me all sorts of unwelcome advice about my disease and my medication choices and my future). Eventually we got away and, having decided that 75 miles of hills was plenty for us in those conditions (our route was 93 miles), tried to find a decent cell signal so we could call in a rescue vehicle. We slogged our way back to a tiny, middle-of-nowhere gas station for a total of 80 miles for the day, where we sat in the shade and waited patiently for Brett to pick us up. It was a beautiful ride, it just wasn't my day.

Accomplishments: 
In contrast, Sunday's ride was wonderful. After a couple miles of my butt being very unhappy with its close proximity to my bike saddle, I settled into a pretty good rhythm. I was near the front of the pack as we turned onto Page Springs Rd. Most of the people stopped at the aid station, but I kept on going, which meant I had the whole smooth, curvy, swoopy, tree-lined prettiness to myself. Didn't see a single car. It was just me and the road and it. was. glorious. The long hill back into Cottonwood wasn't awesome, and it was a bit of a slow climb up to Clarkdale, but all told I was very happy with this ride, especially after my discouraging ride the day before.

Surprises:
In two years of being diagnosed with MS, I've never had such horrible experiences with tactless individuals as I did at this past weekend's event. On Friday evening as I was enjoying pizza and beers with my team, the emcee for the event (who also has MS) came over and introduced herself to the team. As soon as she found out I was the reason we all were there riding, she felt the need to regale me with this little gem: "Oh, you look like you're doing really well! That's great. A friend of mine who has MS was super athletic and was doing great, too, and then one day she woke up and couldn't use her legs. Now her children have to change her diaper. It's very sad." What the eff, lady? In what universe was it appropriate to drop that story in my lap? My team and I sat there in sort of stunned silence, and eventually she moved along to spread the joy to others.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL. The guy I mentioned earlier, the one at the 75-mile aid station, was just the icing on the cake. He rode in about ten minutes after I did. I overheard him mention to the volunteers that his wife had MS for years, and his daughter also has it, but she's doing great. If he had to rate her symptoms on a scale from 1-10, with 10 being the worst, he'd peg her at a .03. She's just doing wonderfully. And (STUPID ME) I chimed in with something like, "Oh, that's so great to hear! I was diagnosed a couple years ago and it seems like I only hear the really bad stories. It's nice to hear about someone doing well!" Which, APPARENTLY, meant that he was allowed to ask me all sorts of invasive questions and then ruthlessly judge my answers (I was too stunned by the audacity of it all to think of a good way to tell him to fuck off. Not candy-coating that at all. I flat-out hated this guy by the end of it.).

What medication am I on? Oh, that one is really rough, and it doesn't really work. (Oh, shit. I guess I better inform my specialist at the Mayo Clinic that some random dude knows better than him.) Have my lesions improved? His daughter's have and she's not even on medication anymore. (Awesome, that seems like a treatment plan that will work for everybody.) Am I married? Is Gerry my husband? Do I plan on getting married, because I better make sure my husband knows what he's in for, and I really need to work hard on finding and keeping a man. Do I plan on having children? At this point I literally said "Ok, I think we're done here." and started to walk away, but he just barreled right on and told me that his daughter made "the courageous choice" to have a child, but was I aware that X, Y, and Z could happen, and there were things I should keep in mind and maybe I should consider adoption like his sainted daughter has decided to do from here on out. Just on and on.

And to top it all off, he informed me that there are people out there who always want to give advice, and he just thinks that those people should consider what it's like to walk a year in his shoes because they don't know his life or what's best for him. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? I'm sure I was just standing there gape-mouthed at this point, like, do you HEAR yourself? Finally he asked what my name was, and I told him and sort of pointed at my Team K-Lar jersey and he said, "Oh, that's your team! I've seen quite a few of you guys out here today. How many are you?" I told him we had 36 people signed up and he said "Oh, seems like you have a pretty big support system then." And blessed, wonderful Gerry goes "YEP. SHE DOES. BYE." and we left.

What. The actual. Fuck.

Looking back there are SO many things I would have said and/or done differently there. Lessons for the future, I suppose. While my Midwestern Nice doesn't allow me to be rude to people (to their faces...), next time the invasive, inappropriate questions start (oh man, I hope there isn't a next time...) I'm going to make like Liz Lemon and shut it down.

Bonus:
Now that I've vented all of that resentment, here are some pictures from our pretty, pretty, horrible, wonderful ride!

Can't complain about a free photo, but...really?

Gah, so pretty!

I mean really.

Start of day 2.

:)