When on the trainer, don’t put the remote in your jersey pocket with the IR blaster facing up.

This should be self explanatory, but it isn’t, so I’ll elaborate with a little story.

Today I was partaking in my Intensity!™ training ride in the basement. I had the CTS video “Cycling for Power” on. Being that this is my only video, I know it like I know what makes me want to throw up. This would be helpful in my situation, but remember this is Intensity!™, and therefore my brain is deprived of oxygen.

I had completed the power interval ladder and was halfway through the second half, steady-state/power interval… er, intervals. I’m recovering, I’m feeling good about the second interval which consists of a three minute steady state and two minute power interval. To clarify, by “feeling good” I mean “I don’t want to kill myself”. I’m prepping emotionally for the three minute steady state, and so it begins.

Coach Jason is our coach for this hour long hurt fest, and I’ve come to both love and hate Jason. I know exactly what he’s going to say. It’s as if we’re linked like those giant blue bastards in Avatar. Jason says jump, and I weep softly as I do so.

As I’m settling in to the three minute steady-state interval, I hear my beloved Jason say the words “power interval”. I’m all like, “wha?” and look up, to see the words “power interval” and a two minute timer. Again, I’ve done this video more times than I have toes and fingers on which to count. I should know where the hell I am, but obviously I am not clear on what Coach Jason wants of me. So I gear up and do the power interval. This is where shit gets trippy.

My oxygen deprived brain started to attempt to put it all together: “I could have sworn I was on steady-state! Maybe not. Wait… did I black out? Did I black out and miss the steady-state?? How is that possible? How am I still on the bike? Is Coach Jason Jesus? He kinda looks like Jesus. His hair isn’t long enough. He’s counting down. Rapture? No, recovery. Good. ‘Three… two… one…’, recover! Thank the Lord, Coach Jason!”

As I start to recover, and oxygen gets re-introduced into my starving brain, I glance at the clock. Coach Jason has taken me back in time! I know, KNOW, that I was 10 minutes ahead of this. What the hell is he doing? And then it hits me… the remote. I fast forward to where I was previously and finished the video.

I know what you’re thinking, “You’re a dumbass.” This is true, however, my point is still valid. Having the remote in your jersey pocket facing up and likely toward the television as you’re hunched over in power interval hell is dangerous to your sanity.

You can thank me later.