But that does not mean that I do not enjoy them. In fact, there are masochistic, inexplicable days when I look forward to them. Crave them. Delight in them. Those days are few and far between, but nonetheless, they exist. Yesterday was one of those days.
Three minutes never seems so long, nor so short than when doing hill repeats at 3 on, 3 off.
But as I got ready for the workout I found myself rather excited to hammer up the familiar Water Tank road. It’s a dirt road I have ridden countless times in my life. It is, after all, the gateway to the Timpanogos Foothill Trail network, a series of trails that are in fine form right now. I know that road well, and to do uphill intervals on it seems a natural occurrence. The grade on the upper half is perfect for hammering, and the long and flat contour at the top is an ideal place to puke. And recover.
And while there is almost nothing better on a mountain bike than singletrack, I thoroughly enjoyed the rinse and repeated pain that I experienced. In fact, as I coasted down the mountain ready to wrap up the ride, I ran into Chris Holley. On a normal day I would have continued down the hill, but instead, I turned around and climbed up to the Altar (offered a short prayer) with him before finally descending back to the parking lot.
It was a good day.
But to be certain, intervals suck.