How I talked myself into getting back on the trainer

Literally, as I typed this.

I hate training indoors. It’s the worst, and I honestly find it sorta depressing. I’d rather freeze my head into a block of ice during a cold ride outside than be warm inside on a trainer, mindlessly spinning and staring at the floor or the wall or the handlebars or the piece of fuzz stuck to my knee.

I’ve only done a handful of indoor “training” sessions inside this winter season. Part of the reason for this is because the weather has been pleasantly mild in my neck of the woods. Supposed to hit 69 whole degrees on Thursday in good old North Central Ohio. Sixty nine glorious spring-like degrees. The other part of the reason is I just hate it so much. Bikes belong outside. Period.

But trainers are good for something, I guess. Whether we like it or not, indoor trainers are water to the firestorm of excuses that cyclists use to avoid time in the saddle, no matter how much we know we need it.

It’s only 0.37 degrees out there? Too bad. Get on the trainer you ninny.

Running behind today and only have like 23 minutes before you have to do that thing today? Get on the trainer for a quick session you ninny.

Haven’t had time to replace that flat? Get on the trainer.

And so on, and so forth. Maybe this only happens to me. Maybe it’s because cycling — for me — is fun. It’s something I’ve done for pleasure since boyhood. Racing around a figure 8 in my friend’s backyard. Building flimsy ramps out of dad’s plywood and bricks. Measuring skid marks and hoping the rain washes it out before old-man neighbor spots it. Riding to the store, across the street, to buy a Snickers bar. Roaming through the woods to find that abandoned gazebo to trade cards and play with that lighter we found on the way. Riding from my teenage home with friends to the go-kart course just five miles away, but it’s five miles away. Riding with a mentor and talking about that girl who’s got more than my legs spinning. Riding to a swimming hole with that girl. Riding with that girl on a whim to a restaurant on the beach that had that too-sweet wine and riding/stumbling back to our tent in the pitch black because of course we forgot lights. Packing my bike oh so carefully for the move across state lines and then taking it out to explore our new home. Buying my first mountain bike and listening to that Rage Against the Machine song on the way to the first-ever trail I rode it on because mountain biking is so freaking hardcore and thinking “man, why didn’t I buy one of these sooner?” Driving four hours for my very first mountain bike race that lasted 45 minutes and then driving four hours back home. Making a friend who also likes 90s grunge and mountain biking over sketchy rock drops and rooty trails. Reigniting friendships during long road rides and making new ones on trips to Virginia. Putting my baby daughter on my knee while riding on the sidewalk just outside our apartment. Buying that baby who, my God, is growing so fast, her first balance bike and putting it together the night before her second birthday and crying a little when she laughs as I push her around the house. Crying a little more when she finally lets go of training wheels.

Riding my bike is fun. There’s nothing more profound to say about it. But then there was a point where it turned into something more than that. Something more egoistic and formulaic. I got hurt and all I wanted to do was to get back to having fun on the bike. So I set a goal and everything became consumed with how I can achieve the goal. When I met the goal, it became, well, how much faster can I get and how many miles can I ride in a week? A month? A year? What foods should I eat? How many calories should I take on a long ride? How far can I push my physical limit? What tires should I use for that race? How can I stay in shape through the winter months so that I can be in tiptop shape for that race in May? And I do the training and I do the training and I do the training and for a while it is fun. Crunching the numbers and getting stronger and faster. And then that’s when the trainer spins all the fun out of it. And so maybe that’s why I resent the trainer. Maybe, in my honest attempt to get better at the fun thing, I’ve spun and pushed and hammered all the fun out of the fun thing.

But I can’t lie and say “it isn’t fun anymore,” because it is. I still have a blast on the bike. It’s just that bleeping trainer. Something about it.

Maybe it’s just laziness. I’d much rather sleep in on the days I typically set aside for some high intensity intervals. And honestly, lately, I have been. In bed, I lay there — awake — thinking about all the time I might have later in the day to do the thing on the trainer that I’m so ardently avoiding in the morning. Just a few more minutes of sleep, I tell myself. And then I just lay there and only think about how nice it would be to fall asleep. Yeah. Stay in bed, under the covers. Awake. And then the morning has officially started and I’m suddenly in hyperdrive to get up and caffeinated and out the door. The day starts and I’m making phone calls and I’m reading emails and sending emails and thinking about sending emails and talking on the phone and thinking about lunch. And then I eat lunch and think, ah shoot, it won’t be today. Have that thing to do today. Forgot about thing. Maybe tonight. Nah. That won’t happen. Working up an intense pool of sweat after eating tonight’s soup and bread and wiiiiiiine? Yeah I’ll do it tomorrow.

Alright, so it’s laziness that prevents me from being on the trainer. There. I admit it. But it’s also not fun, right? I mean, who of you can honestly tell me that being on the trainer is a fun thing to do? Anyone?

But that’s the point, probably. Training isn’t supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be work. You put the work in so that you get better, stay in shape and get faster and stronger and achieve goals. If you don’t have goals, though, why toil over whether or not to get a sesh in on the trainer?

If I don’t set realistic-but-challenging goals, and have friends and family to hold me accountable, that means I don’t have to put the work in, because, my goal — by default — becomes having more fun.

So, today (like, literally starting today) I’ve set a goal: finish that 100k race in time to witness the award ceremony.

This means I will need to increase my average speed by 1.5 mph, give or take, and not spend so much time stopped at aid stations. This means I need to increase strength by hitting the gym. It also means increasing stamina with Zone 2 riding. Annnnnddd this means I have to get on the trainer for some HIIT sessions.

Let’s just hope I can do it all with a smile. Here’s to trying. And here’s to having fun.

That’s not me. Someone named Ryan Baham took this picture of a person having a blast on a trainer for an article entitled “How to Choose a Bike Trainer.”