An Open Letter to my Coach, BJ Basham

Dear BJ-

You and I have been working together for over a year now. I think I've been fairly responsive to your suggestions, followed your training plans with reasonable accuracy and determination, and I've represented you well with improvements to my fitness, technique and strategy, as well as with some decent placings this year.

In addition to being a good client, I'm also your teammate. We wear the same colors and even compete in some of the same fields. And beyond that, I also thought that by now BJ, you and I were friends.

But I guess I misread our relationship entirely. You don't like me at all. In fact, you must really despise me. How else would you explain the workout you assigned for me today:

15 second micro burst, 15 second recovery
15 second micro burst, 15 second recovery
10 seconds micro burst, 10 seconds recovery
10 seconds micro burst, 10 seconds recovery 
5 seconds micro burst, 5 seconds recovery
5 seconds micro burst, 15 seconds recovery
60 seconds above VO2max, 10 seconds recovery
15 second all out sprint
Recover completely between efforts. 
Repeat 7-10 times.

What did I do to make you so mad? Was it all those 3-hour endurance rides I truncated to 2:15? Or the 5th set of 40/30s that seems to mysteriously disappear from my power file each week? Whatever it is, it's obviously beyond repair. And I doubt there's anything I can do to win you back.

I know the desire to punish me must run deep, but I implore you to reconsider and think of the repercussions of your actions. If I complete this workout, I'll be reduced to a quivering mass of nerves and flesh - incoherent, incompetent and likely incontinent. Think of my family, who is counting on me not just to return from my workout, but to be ready to take a monster pull at home the moment I set foot in the door. There are baths to be given, diapers to be changed, bedtime stories to be read, more diapers to be changed, laundry to be done, grilled chicken caesers to be prepared and, time permitting, grilled chicken caesers to be consumed.  How can I perform any of these tasks with any degree of efficiency or effectiveness when I'm bleeding out my eyes and full of more knots than a Vegas chapel?

But don't just think about me and my family. Think of and everyone who reads it. I have deep responsibilities here, as well. If I'm incapacitated, how am I supposed to let everyone know that Jared Nieters Cross season started with a wild event up in New Jersey over the weekend, or that The Unholy Roleur has some must-read tips for anyone thinking about giving CX a shot this year.

I'll be wholly incapable of passing along the goings-on at the Chesapeake Criterium over the weekend, where Tyler of the Blog of Tyler became the VA Juniors State champ, new blogger Podium Girl lived up to her moniker, N Plus One weathered his first Cat 4 event, and where Kyle of Pedal'n Around documents his Cat 4 race there in words and video and in pictures.

Nobody will know that Il Nessie's chronic 12th place finishes finally contributed towards a Cat 3 GC win in Christiana, or that the Flamenco Chuckwagon, um, did not score a GC win.

Think of all those racers with stories to tell, and the many more who want to read them.

Now that you realize how far-reaching are the tentacles you gave this savage workout, are you sure you won't reconsider? Maybe you'd be happy with a couple nice tempo intervals followed by an espresso, and a quick dip in the pool?