Hiking Anyone?

It's too cold to ride! Is anyone interested in doing some wintertime hiking? I am starting my new job (yeah!) on January 5th, but like to do longs hikes on the weekends. I'm also recruiting for trail workers. Anyone interested in getting involved in volunteering in Shenandoah National Park? I have trails awaiting adoption! I'm off now to stay at Jones Mountain Cabin with Kurt for two nights. If you're in the area drop by to see us ;-)

HELLOOOOOOO...

Wow, it has been a long time since I posted here. Not surprisingly, it has been even longer since anyone else has. What's up with that? Lee tells me it's because most people consider this "my" blog. I did not intend for it to be that way. Read the name of the blog and the description underneath. Nowhere does it say it's "my" blog. So....help me here! Is anyone out there? Say something!

Everyone is busy these days - not just because today happens to be December 22 and it is the height of the holiday madness. Every day is busy for each of us. Still, sharing stories and ideas and opinions seems (to me) like such a good idea. If you agree, please post something here. If you have not been given rights to post, then ask and most likely you will be able to.

Some questions are rolling around in my head...

Who is still training? Indoors? Outdoors? What are you doing to stay fit?

Will Kathi make her goal of 2000 miles before the end of the year? I'm on the edge of my seat!

Is Guy still with us? The last sighting I know of was at the Culpeper Century.

C'mon Maddies - talk to us!

Cyclist's Lament and Other Stuff

Wow, where to start? I have not posted for a long time. I will try to do better and I hope everyone else will do the same. I, for one, love reading what you have to say - and it does not have to be about cycling.

The days are getting shorter. Way shorter. I think we MadCyclists have called it a season for our weekday rides. By 7 p.m. it is too dark to be on a bike without lights. Most of us cannot get to the starting point before 5:30 at the earliest and this week that only gives us about an hour. Now, you may say an hour is better than nothing - and you are right - but selfishly, I could manage an hour and a half or a little more if I just came straight to Moonshine Mountain & rode from there. That's my plan for the time being and anyone who would like to join me is welcome.

On the positive side of this time of year, the temperatures agree with me. I struggle terribly in the heat and humidity to the point of feeling sick; not so with these nice 60 - 70 - 80 degree days. I'll bet I could really rack up the miles if I just didn't have to work for a living. The shadows are longer but the air is clean and crisp. The leaves are beginning to change. Poplars are dropping some of their leaves and have spots of yellow in with the summer green. The dogwoods are possibly the biggest indicators that fall is here. Their berries are fat and suddenly bright red and their leaves are beginning to take on that burgundy color they display each year at this time. Virginia is beautiful in the fall. And the spring. And even the summer. It's winter I don't like. Maybe if we had more evergreens so everything didn't look so brown and grey for so long.

I mentioned that MadCyclists have probably taken their last regular weekday ride for the season. That would have been last Thursday when Mary, Aden and I met at Waverly Yowell for a quick 15 mile loop. We left at 5:30 and headed out of town and across Rt. 29 on Fishback Rd. After taking a left on Oak Park Rd. we rode the rolling hills to Elly Rd. and took a right. All was well until we got across Elly Mountain and about halfway to Aroda. Aden was in front because he tends to pop over hills much easier and faster than Mary and I. I would guess he was about 200 yards ahead of me, and Mary was maybe 100 yards behind. Essentially we were each riding alone and along the white line of Elly Road. Most of you know the rest - an idiot in a Red Ford pickup truck proceeded to tell me to get off the road & told Aden much, much more, including threatening him with his life. Fortunately for us, a Madison County deputy happened along shortly after and we filed a report. The next day I called the Sheriff & he told me who the person was and where he lived and that they were going to "pay him a visit".

Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I think the Sheriff & his deputies deserve a huge thank-you from all of us who love to ride the roads of Madison. That this is an isolated incident for us speaks volumes in itself. We live and ride in one of the safest, most cycling traffic-friendly places anywhere! To the Sheriff & his staff - thanks for watching out for us, guys!

Today was the first annual Culpeper Cycling Century in (you got it!) Culpeper. Barry and I were the only MadCyclists (not counting Guy - you remember him, don't you?:) who participated. They had hoped for a large crowd because the entry form said there were free t-shirts for the first 250 registrants. I registered when I got there & they had boxes and boxes, so yes, I got one. Just what I needed, another t-shirt. It'll be good for cleaning the chain...

This morning was chilly but absolutely beautiful with no wind and Colorado blue skies (really! I know - I've seen 'em). We met at the Bike Stop and departed at about 8:45. Barry and I planned to ride the Metric mainly because neither of us have put in the saddle time since June to handle a century. The crowd at the start was sparse. Most were roadies though I did see a couple touring bikes and a couple mountain bikes. Later I heard they only had 40-some register. We took off through town and exited the "metropolitan area" by the National Cemetery. After crossing Rt. 29 we briefly followed Rt. 522 to another road that skirted the bottom of Mt. Pony, home of the film and video archives of the Library of Congress. Oh yeah, and for you Civil War buffs (yawn), also the site of a signal station during the Great Conflict. The hills we climbed there were the only ones for the first 30 miles. I am not kidding - the route was pancake flat. We trucked along at about 20 mph most of the way.

After a 3 mile jaunt north on Rt. 522, we turned left to head to our first rest stop at about mile 23 in downtown Mitchells. I have kept myself on a pretty strict eating pattern for the last six weeks or so but I used this long ride as an excuse to indulge in COOKIES!! Homemade peanut butter cookies.....yum.....I had two :) Barry and I stopped for 10 minutes at the most and then headed on. The next rest stop was in about 28 miles. We crossed the railroad tracks that run from Orange to Culpeper and headed toward a not-so-distant Rt. 15. One mile from the rest stop we rounded a bend in the road and there was a cyclist down in the middle of the road. Two people were with him - Barry and I were the third and fourth people to come along. I asked if they had a cell phone (I had mine) and they said yes and had already called 911. The cyclist was face-down on the pavement & the other people had gotten his bike out of the road. They were trying to communicate with him but he was unresponsive. Barry and I jumped off our bikes and helped one of the men turn the cyclist over so CPR could be administered.

I think this was the biggest shock of all - we knew him. His name is Ron and he and his wife ride with us occasionally. He is one of the fittest, fastest cyclists (our age) we know. Apparently he just collapsed, fell over, and was in full cardiac arrest. Fortunately for Ron, the guy who was immediately behind him was a professional firefighter from Fairfax (who had not ridden a bike in 10 years and was talked-into riding this ride by Bob at the Bike Stop). He took over and administered two-person CPR with the other cyclist there. Barry took over the 911 call and I jumped back on my bike and rode back to the rest stop to make sure Ron's wife was brought to the scene. We did not want her riding up on her bike unexpectedly.

It seemed to take such a long time for the emergency crews to get there and until they did, the guy (I did not get his name) from Fairfax kept up CPR. Ron would take a breath on his own, moan, and go back into cardiac arrest. I don't know how everyone else felt, but I did not think the news would be good in the end. After an endless wait the rescue crew got there and used the defibrillator on him. I did not watch. The whole experience was such a horrid thing to see and knowing who it was made it even worse for me. They finally loaded Ron into the squad truck and continued working on him there. Emily, his wife, was distraught but got in a deputy's car to be transported to the hospital.

We left to continue the ride. Another Culpeper cyclist who rides with us occasionally, Elliot, stayed with Barry and me for most of the rest of the ride. Our mood was somber and reflective. We rode out to Rt. 15 and just before we got to Rt. 15 were passed by the squad truck transporting Ron to Culpeper Hospital. We turned north on 15 toward Culpeper (I did not like that part of the route!!). We only stayed on Rt. 15 for a mile or so and then turned left toward Rt. 29. That's when the rollers started. And after we crossed Rt. 29, the rollers got bigger and looked a lot like Madison. After riding on parts of our Reva Loop and Slate Mills Loop, we found ourselves at Rt. 522 in Griffinsburg. We turned right on 522 and headed toward Culpeper for a couple miles before turning left and finding the second (and last) rest stop. It was there we heard that Ron was alive and even sitting up in bed! What a relief that was!! I indulged myself in 1/2 banana and a chocolate chip cookie (not as good as the peanut butter ones) and we were off once again.

Elliot told us the worst hills were yet to come (actually, I think he said, "hill"). Right. We rode over some rollers and then turned left to climb a sizable hill. Barry asked Elliot if this was the hill and he said, "It is one of them." Great. Thanks Elliot! We topped that one and had a short downhill, rounded a turn or two and there was the wall. OK, by riding-in-a-hurricane-in-Podunk-Pennsylvania standards it probably wasn't much, but for my legs it was! We topped that hill and shortly after that the Century & Metric routes separated. We said bye to Elliot and Barry and I headed back to Culpeper. Surprisingly, I felt quite strong but was not sure I was strong enough for an additional 35 miles the Century would have required. Sometime after that, I stopped at the top of a hill and checked my average speed - 16 mph! I was shocked and very proud of myself considering I have been struggling to keep my average above 14.5 all summer. WooHoo!

After some twists and turns, stoplights and railroad tracks, Barry and I arrived back at the Bike Stop. There we found Ron had been flown to UVa Hospital, and the news was still good. I am hoping he will be back on the bike shortly and all will be well. The news for now is certainly better than I thought it would be. Ron is very lucky the Fairfax firefighter was right behind him and could administer CPR and keep him alive for that long. We can all only hope we are so lucky.

All-in-all, it was a good ride for me except for the ghosts I will see in my sleep. I felt strong even at the finish which is a big change from most of this year, and I had a very small part in saving Ron's life.

Please, everyone, be safe out there.

Riders on the Storm

“CycloSportif” is an activity imported from Europe in which recreational cyclists are given the opportunity to ride a professional course just before a pro race—the prestigious Univest Grand Prix in our case. The ride is managed much like a race to give the amateurs a chance to feel the exhilaration of being in the peloton. Pretty cool!

But with the Univest CycloSportif 100K looming, neither Bates nor I had been able to squeeze in much road time in preparation. We weren’t overly concerned, as we were under the impression that we’d be sailing over the gently undulating Pennsylvania countryside (with a few hills thrown in for good measure)—nothing to worry about. We were confident that our cumulative base miles were more than adequate preparation for just about anything the Keystone State could throw at us. Pride before the fall...

There was a wild card, however: It was even money whether Tropical Storm (soon to be Hurricane) Hanna would pre-empt the event, and emails were flyin’ fast and furious from the harried organizers. They finally opted to go for it, so we hit the road late Friday morning.

Our first stop was to check in to the Tohickon Campground. It was well off the beaten path, just beyond the longest covered bridge in Bucks County. By modern campground standards it was a bit seedy, but certainly adequate to meet our minimal needs. We were assigned a camp right along the bank of a stream. At this time of year, there was no one else around, so we had the entire area to ourselves. Not bad at all.


Having located our digs, we tooled back down the highway to Sellersville to sign in and conduct a recce of the general area. The event had a max registration of 1500, but judging from the lack of bodies we encountered at registration (as in two, besides ourselves) and the folks who crowded into the Hospitality Tent at the end of the ride (perhaps 100), I’d venture a guess that there weren’t more than 200 participants max. There were two routes: 100K and 60K, and we later learned that many of the cyclists who'd signed up for the 100K punted and only completed the 60K. Hindsight is indeed 20/20!

Registration went smoothly: We collected our “swag bag” full of useless stuff and an ankle transponder for recording our official time (which proved to be equally useless). We were given cue sheets, but no maps—don’t ya just hate that? I mean, you can always find your way home with a map, but a cue sheet? Then we picked up our official event T-shirts—which featured a generic Univest Bank logo with the word “Grand Prix” added beneath (as Bates quipped, “Probably leftovers from last year’s company picnic.”). No artwork at all, nothing to give one the impression that this was a bike race. Oh well.

The high school in nearby Souderton was the designated rendezvous point for the ride. We diligently sought out said institution of lower learning to scope out parking, shower facilities, etc. We assumed this was also the starting point for the ride. There was absolutely no evidence that a rather large affair was about to take place here. No tents/awnings, no portajohns, no hucksters, uh, I mean vendors, no bodies milling about. No buzz. NOTHING. Very strange. For some reason, this didn’t set off any alarm bells for us—but more on that later...

Confident that we had it sussed, we headed back to the campground, only to discover that Bucks County had been placed under a flash-flood watch and we had been reassigned a spot on higher ground. As it turned out, this meant slipping in to a vacant space in the “seasonal” section of the campground.

Cruising through this area was a real shocker for me, as I’d never seen such a thing (I don’t get out much). Trailers of every size, shape, description, age and condition were shoehorned in side by side, and it was evident that they were semi-permanent installations. Each had been “improved” in one way or another. Cobbled-together decks abounded, and many of the strange contraptions were profusely decorated with strings of hanging lights and an amazing array of lawn furniture, ornaments and chatchkies. Sewage pipes were in evidence above ground, and the electric wiring was haphazardly strung from tree to tree. “Code? We don’t need no stinking code!” It was a nightmarish corrugated aluminum shantytown—very Third World. The overall effect was quite surreal; sort of Hieronymus Bosch meets Pablo Picasso to create a 21st-century American Gothic. Very scary.

Howdy, neighbor! Our home away from home, right next door to Camp Budweiser (look closely at the lettering on the screened-in porch). Hey, hey— what’d I say? This ain’t no freakin’ KOA!

Having chowed down and showered, we headed back to town—Quakertown, to be exact—for a spot of local color. The night was fine (calm before the storm) so we roosted outside a historic tavern to consume some liquid carbs. Later, when we were comfortably ensconced in our Vanagon cocoon, the rain began to fall—from a small front that had no connection to Hurricane Hanna.

The velo-epicure’s approach to camping (and carbo-loading)—gourmet all the way! We are nothing if not civilized…

Born to be wild!

Next morning we diddled around girding ourselves for the ride, noting that the gathering stormclouds did not augur well for the task at hand. We managed to arrive on-site at the high school just a few minutes after 8am (when the ride was supposed to kick off), and it looked like a ghost town! There were a handful of cars with bike racks in the parking lot and a couple of cyclists getting ready to roll—but again, no sign of a major event at all: no signage, no official staff, no nuttin’! What to do?

The Dynamic Duo—just before they realized they had no clue where the starting point was...

One of the other stragglers said he thought the ride was actually supposed to start somewhere downtown, so off we went in search of the lost CycloSportif. We pedaled hither and yon, casting our Mk I Eyeball down every street and boulevard, but to no avail. After about half an hour of this aimless meandering, we spotted a temporary concrete barricade manned by cops, news media and spectators, and we knew we’d struck paydirt! We never did actually locate the official “starting point,” as we were directed by an official-looking gent to get our arses out on the course post-haste and ride “that way.”

So began our (in)auspicious entry into the Wonderful World of CycloSportif! If nothing else seemed clear, at least the route was well marked—a good thing in Pennsylvania, where the roads snake around the countryside in a haphazard maze. Around mile 12, we began to pick up some precip, heavier than fog, but not quite rain—what the Irish would call “soft rain.” At least it wasn’t “cold rain.”

Not long thereafter we encountered a sign that warned of the beginning of a “KOM” stage for the pro riders soon to follow. These King of the Mountain segments were selected to determine the best climbers of the peloton. This first climb was reminiscent of the hills in our beloved Madison County—a good workout, but not bonk-worthy.

MadCyclists: Committed.

We briefly idled our engines at the first “Feed Zone” at mile 20, by which time we were actually getting wet. A bit farther up the road, we found ourselves riding alongside a large lake where an equally large crowd had assembled. And there, amongst the throngs, was a facsimile of the Loch Ness Monster (and a baby Nessie, to boot)! Turned out to be an Irish-Scottish Festival—well, the weather sure reminded me of the Highlands!

Now that’s what I call a loch!

As our cyclocomputers ticked off 26 miles, we encountered the second KOM—the “L’Alp de Green Lane” (I swear I’m not making this up!). This one was a Real Wall. We dug in and began to grind it out, but there was nothing for it—that mother just seemed to go straight up (and up, and up!). It made Ruth Road look like a speed bump! We both threw in the towel out about half-way up and grudgingly took Shank’s mare to the crest.

Deer in the headlights… Walking up a twenty-plus degree grade in cleats on wet asphalt with a bicycle in tow in the pouring rain is not my idea of a good time. And there was still one more KOM in the offing.

I believe it was somewhere around the half-way point of the ride that we began to realize just how deceiving the terrain really was: It often appeared to be benignly flat, but was in fact often an ever-so-slight uphill grade. We’d ride for miles feeling like our brakes were dragging. This kind of slow, steady grind causes you to work harder than you think you are, and it will really wear you down if you’re not maintaining a pretty respectable cadence (thank goodness for gel shots!). I managed to pull a rectus femoris in my quad, which I attribute to not being habituated to this type of terrain.

So the pastoral Pennsylvania countryside proved to be a series of energy-sapping long pulls punctuated by the occasional quad-burning hill (replete with dangerously speedy descent on wet tarmac). And then there were those lung-busting KOM climbs… Are we having fun yet?

The sky continued to darken, the wind began to howl and the rain just kept pelting down harder and harder. I could no longer see a thing through my fogged-up, rain-spattered dark cycling glasses. Oh sure, let’s do a metric century through a freakin’ hurricane—what were we thinking? Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound!

We were so far behind our fellow CycloSportif participants at this point that we were essentially riding unsupported—the SAG vehicles were apparently all somewhere up ahead of us; in fact, by the time we’d reached the second—and last—Feed Zone, they’d already packed it in. Not surprisingly, we missed several key turns and had to backtrack to find the route. I, for one, was impressed that we retained the presence of mind to do so.

With about a half-dozen miles to go, we did some rough calculatin’ and figured that the pro peloton was closing on us—fast. In all honesty, we were both suckin’ hind teat by this time, but we dug down deep and kept on truckin’. A passing SUV generously offered us a lift, but we just waved 'em on. Quitting now was simply not an option.

Before long we found ourselves in the ’burbs of Souderton, and the streets were lined with spectators in anticipation of the arrival of the pros. Mistaking us for the lead racers, they cheered like banshees and rang cowbells as we passed. When I muttered something about being embarrassed, Bates retorted emphatically, “NO! Dig it—this is the only time you’ll ever get to feel like a pro racer. Enjoy the ride!” And he was dead right.

We crouched down in the drops and did our best Lance impression as we sailed through the streets toward the finish line with the crowd cheering us on. Amazing! Suddenly, a couple of motorcycle cops zipped up behind us and ordered us off the street, as the breakout riders were only seconds behind! We unclipped and jumped up on the curb just in time to watch the real velo-heroes fly by in a colorful blur!

Breakout!

After they passed, the street was again empty so we resumed our ride into cycling history. With eleven riders in the breakout, Bates and I (Team Litespeed) were now technically holding 12th and 13th position respectively, and the peloton was drawing ever nearer. So as we neared the finish line, we gratefully took advantage of a 90-degree turn in the course to slip through a barricade and disappear (“Exit, stage right!”).

We had crashed the Univest Grand Prix!

Peeling off our rain-soaked bibs and jerseys and donning street clothes, we secured our bikes in the Vanagon and headed off to find the Hospitality Tent—which we accomplished just in time to see the tail end of the raffle. We were famished, but the spread that had been laid out for the CycloSportif riders was long gone and we only barely managed to grab the last couple of veggie wraps and some bottled water before the clean-up crew got ’em. Ah well, we might have missed the food and the freebies, but how many CycloSportif participants can claim to have ridden in the Grand Prix?

Rode hard and put up wet…
The crowd roared as Team Litespeed staged an amazing upset in the Univest Grand Prix! The unknown upstarts from Madison, Virginia (no sponsor) slipped in just behind the breakout, nailing 12th & 13th place respectively. Hey man, where’d those Old Dudes come from???

CBC Saturday Ride from Madison

I finally managed to make a Charlottesville Bicycle Club ride this morning and I am SO glad I did. What a wonderful group of people! Aden was absolutely correct in his blog post - they are social & laid back and no one gets dropped for good. At some point the faster group waits for those who are lagging behind.

One of my fears was being the slowest and then holding everyone back. What I found was that I am squarely in the middle - this morning there were two groups: the fast group (including Bates & Aden) & the slow group. Oh yeah, and me. I was in "no man's land" squarely in the middle. I could hang with the big guys on the flats (and pass 'em downhill!), but what goes down must go back up and that's where I would see them fading in the distance ahead of me. Slow climbing aside, I got to ride "my ride", I got to talk with some fun people, and I was on my bike for 46 miles on a gorgeous late-summer morning. Bonus - I was not last!

I think the temperature probably topped at 83 degrees by the end of the ride. No breeze to speak of and brilliant sunshine and low humidity. The route we took was what we MadCyclists like to call the Scuffletown Loop (the short route because it did not go into Orange from Somerset). Instead of going through Orange, we headed back on Rt. 231, to Tatum School Rd. and then up Locust Grove Church Rd. to Good Hope. I hate that climb but for whatever reason it felt good today. Following the ride most of us refueled at the "Piggy Steak".

These guys are lots of fun and I am looking forward to another ride with them soon. I hope anyone reading this will try and do the same. See you on the road!

Cool Breeze a-blowin'...

Just got back yesterday from Aden's Excellent Adventure! The Cool Breeze Century Ride along the California coast on August 16 was a fabulous choice for a first century. As this was very much a joint effort between my "riding buddy" Dona and me, it’s only fair that we double-team the ride report as well, so here goes:

[Aden] Shipping my bike turned out to be a cinch, thanks to the loan of a hard-shell case (much obliged, Jane!). Southwest Airlines only charges their standard oversize luggage fee for bikes—$50 each way—considerably less than any other airline or express company.

[Dona] Aden and I drove up to Ventura on Thursday, taking the coastal route up Highway 1 (Pacific Coast Hwy) through Malibu. Seeing the ocean brought back all kinds of childhood memories for both of us. We vowed that we would romp in the ocean before the weekend was over. The Marriott Courtyard was doing maintenance on their rooms, so they upgraded us to their sister property, the Residence Inn—with kitchenettes! We had packed our blender for protein shakes and our coffee grinder and press so we were thrilled. Nice digs!

On Friday, the rest of the Red Hawk Bicycle Club gang arrived from Temecula (about 18 riders in all) and we hung out by the pool & Jacuzzi in the afternoon. Later, we went out to Macaroni Grill for dinner together (carbo-loading!)—I think I enjoy the camaraderie almost as much as the actual cycling!

Arriving at the event starting area at 6:00am on Saturday, it initially felt like a race (with 1,500 entrants!), but there is a distinctly different aura surrounding a "ride"—more relaxed and there is less eyeballing of the “competition"... In fact, many clubs got together for group photos and motivational cheers. A really positive ambiance, and the vendors’ tents lent a bit of a carnival atmosphere. As you can see, Aden really drew all the attention with his nifty Charlottesville jersey!


Aden and I had made a pact to keep our pace down around 16mph no matter what everyone else was doing for at least the first half of the ride, and we were sorely tempted to increase that speed, thanks to the infectious excitement and overzealous jackrabbit start that everyone else indulged in. The Red Hawk group left us in the dust, but no matter... The weather was cool (low 70s) and overcast as one might expect from early morning coastal weather and the first 13 miles (and the last 13, as it was an out-and-back…) were right along the beach. Wonderful!

The first rest stop was at 13 miles and though it almost seemed silly to stop that soon, we had committed to stop and refill our bottles at every rest stop—besides, why miss ANY of what the ride had to offer? The Ventura Kiwanis volunteers (hurray for the selfless volunteers, as ANY athletic event of ANY kind couldn't occur without them) were very friendly and well prepared. Water, lemonade, bananas, cantaloupe, oranges, cookies of various flavors, bagels, pb&j—the usual fare. I nibbled, but Aden stuck tenaciously to his prearranged nutrition plan and left their bountiful repast untouched.

This was NOT a flat 100 miles as we had originally assumed. We hit the first climb at about 20 miles—which came as a bit of a surprise, but the ascent was reasonably gradual and our legs were strong.

[Aden] At one point during the descent from this climb, one of the Red Hawk crew bumped another cyclist’s rear wheel and suffered a pretty rough crash at about 26mph—he had to be evac’ed by the SAG folks. Seems I know someone who did something remarkably similar…

We then headed slightly inland traveling north from Ventura. We encountered more hills and climbed and climbed and climbed, zig-zagging our way up winding country roads through a very pretty (and steep!) canyon and on over the crest of the mountain. But what goes up must come down, and we enjoyed a devilishly fast downhill. FUN!

[Dona] After 56 miles of blissful riding, we had reached the turnaround point and third rest stop. Wow! A beautiful wooded park with lots of picnic tables shaded by pine trees, and an epicurean feast of deli-style meats and cheeses and condiments (and cookies!)... RIDE TO EAT!!! We had caught up with the rest of the Red Hawk crew by this point (imagine that…), so we all sat together and kicked back—but not for too long, as we still had another 50 miles to go!

After lunch, Aden and I both felt wonderful and we were soon tooling along the coastline at Santa Barbara (drop-dead gorgeous!). I took the lead and for quite a few miles we were cruising at 21-24mph—just whizzing along like a two-person pace line. Our conservative strategy had paid off big-time, and we felt like we had just started a day of riding. Amazing! The whole way back to Ventura was relatively flat riding punctuated by some gentle rollers along the coast, and the sun was out by now, but it was still very comfortable. At the last rest stop, the volunteers delighted us with Cool Breeze’s trademark popsicles! No one was in a hurry to leave—so unlike a race!

We intermittently met up with the Red Hawk group along the return leg, which was kind of cool. But in the end, our pace strategy resulted in our finishing well ahead of the group. For the last 20 miles, Aden and I agreed to drop our pace back to 18mph to be able to enjoy the ocean and just drink in the whole beach scene: miles of RVs and people lounging next to their BBQ setups—I was much happier on the bike, the wind in my face and the magic of my leg muscles pumping away the miles.

[Aden] The final leg was so exhilarating that we were almost sad to be nearing the end of this transformational experience. Needless to say, we finished strong. Our ride time was about six and a half hours, and after we loaded our bikes, we headed down to the beach to fulfill our earlier pledge. Peeling off sweaty riding duds and changing into our swim suits, we charged out through the breakers like a couple of exuberant children, screeching when we hit the chilly water and diving headlong into the surf like the fish we had both been in our youth. Then we stretched out on our towels and let the waning rays of the sinking sun warm us and dry us off. Pure magic!

The following morning we both felt great—no aches, pains, sore spots, numbness, etc. In fact, after we took a down day, we did a 25-mile “recovery” ride through two canyons (Rainbow & Rice) near Temecula. Plenty of climbing, but mostly progressive grades (no “walls”). When we got back in, we felt like we’d hardly ridden at all—amazing what a century will do for you! (Hard for me to get my head around the fact that this year's Tour de Madison was my first group ride!)

Though Dona is an accomplished triathlete, we were both “century virgins” so Cool Breeze was a major milestone for us both. As my dearie-o aptly exclaimed: “I feel so alive and hopeful! Such a celebration of life and vitality!”

In closing, I’d like to express my sincere gratitude to all the MadCyclists who have so generously mentored and supported me as I’ve continued to develop my cycling skills. Jane and Bates in particular have demonstrated such an overwhelming generosity of spirit. How blessed I am to have friends like these—and all the rest of you, too! I couldn’t have done it without you, each and every one. Thank you.

Tuesday night rides

Welcome Home Michael Ride, August 12: What a fun afternoon ride from Hebron Church! Bates, Barry, Chris and Mary met us in the parking lot. In the absence of Aden (who left that very day for his first century - in California, no less), Mary obligingly failed to clip out of her pedals and hit the asphalt, a la Arte Johnson and his tricycle on Laugh In . (I, of course, have no recollection of the show, since I am much too young to have seen it...but I've been told....) Since Mary did the deed, and since she is such a lady, there was no blood to be seen. In spite of the lack of gore, we felt much better because it was ALMOST like Aden was still with us.

Michael rode his "vintage" Benotto and found that it is not so easy climbing to "heaven" as it is on his trusty carbon Trek. Not to worry, just to make sure we knew he really did know how to climb, once we got to the turn-around spot at the White Oak Canyon trail head, he continued up toward Berry Hollow. Since no one else was willing to drag himself up there, we are not sure exactly how far he got. What we do know is that we rode a leisurely pace back down and he did not catch up until we got to Syria.

Two observations:
1. Drafting behind a dragon fly does little to reduce the amount of work one does on a bicycle. (I tried)
2. They grow big, chewy super-gnats up in the hollers, but in spite of how many one seems to ingest, one never gets full.

We arrived back at the church in good time and had a great little post-ride visit. It's too bad we can't have more of those rides but Michael is already back on the left coast. With any luck we will be having another sometime within the next decade.

Tuesday night ride, August 18: For the first time in recorded MadCyclists history, the women outnumbered the men on a ride! Wooohooo!!! Ok, so there were only four of us but it was great to see Melanie back home & to have her on a ride once again. Keep coming Melanie - our numbers are growing by leaps and bounds! Or, inch-by-inch....but still we are growing. By the way, Bates was our token male and he was great company.

Another ride tomorrow afternoon - wonder who will show? Bates is off the hook because it is Colin "turn the fork backward and ride anyway" McLain's birthday. Enjoy your dinner at the PiggySteak and don't forget to have a MustardBurger for me.

Aden - we are waiting for that Cool Breeze report!

Ridin' with C'ville...

I've been trying to get out on the road with the Charlottesville Bicycle Club ever since I began my group riding "career" (not quite 3 months ago--LOL!), and I finally managed to hook up with the C'villians this morning. With my first century looming, I was hankerin' to get in one last local ride before I decamp for California, and the CBC Somerset-Barboursville loop (33 miles) offered the perfect opportunity. It's a great route and I'm familiar with the roads and the terrain, so I decided to take the plunge.

MadCyclist and CBC regular Jeff Dillon was also along for the ride, so I didn't feel entirely like a fish out of water. I was pleased to see that folks began arriving early enough to socialize a bit before hopping on the bikes. I found it to be a more relaxed atmosphere, as opposed to the 'pre-race buzz' feeling I've encountered when riding with some other clubs (testosterone overload). Jeff introduced me around and everyone was very welcoming, indeed.

For the first half of the ride, I purposely hung back toward the middle of the group, as I'm semi-officially beginning my "tapering week" for the Cool Breeze century next weekend. The weather was drop-dead gorgeous and the miles melted away as we sailed through the lovely Virginia countryside. I'm sure y'all will be pleased to know that I had no, ahem, accidents on this outing. The only malfunction I experienced on the entire ride came early on in the form of a dropped chain, but I don't think anyone noticed (did I say that out loud?).

When we pulled back out on the road after a brief break at the Somerset Store, I fell in behind Jeff and we took off with the lead element. It wasn't for a few miles that I finally realized I was riding with the faster folks. Hmmmm... Somewhere along that wonderful stretch of Rt. 20 where the rollers look like a set of ocean breakers, I found myself in a pace line--not sure how I got there... This was my first real experience in a pace line, and I must say it felt pretty cool to be flyin' over those rollers at about 24mph with everyone in perfect synchronization. I even took my turn pulling the line!

When we got back to the Stony Point School, one of the gals was passing around homemade muffins (thanks, Kathy!), and as the riders began to trickle in, the general feel was very laid-back and no one seemed to be in an arse-busting hurry to get in the wind. Folks lingered a bit to exhale and chat--pretty nice, really.

In summary, I'd like to say that I had a great time and have every intention of riding with the CBC again soon. There were riders of all skill/fitness levels, so no one need feel intimidated, and they're an outgoing bunch. Their rides tend to be longer (many 40-plus mile routes) with several that cover our own beloved territory. I'd heartily encourage all of my fellow MadCyclists to check 'em out!

CSP 1-2-3 7-29-2008

Rode out to Golden with Jeff and Jeremy. On the way there, ran across a couple guys, talked to them and found out they were going out there too, for one of the guy's first race, or maybe it wasn't - he couldn't remember if he'd raced a crit before (???? how can you not remember - a crit isn't exactly an experience you tend to forget???). Had 2 flat tires on the way out.

Got there eventually, and surfed the back of the 4s race to warm up. About 4 laps in, on the final corner, we heard the tell-tale sound and the field parted around that 1st (2nd?) race guy sitting on the pavement looking around like we were all martians. I think he went home.

Our race started, and I was determined to get in that night's break, even if I couldn't hang for the whole race. Our field is a veritable host of pros (Jason Donald - 2nd in prologue at tour of California 2007, Jon Garcia - BMC pro, and Colby Pierce - national track champ and Garmin pro) and cat 1 vets. Getting, and staying, in the break is no small feat. But I've been encouraged by my friend Richard's new-found interest in attacking and racing aggressive, so I was more than interested in trying. I've always been like that - I think it's way more fun to make the race than to sit in and wait for a sprint.

No dice - every break I went with or bridged to was eventually brought back - none of them had that elusive mix of talent and broad team representation to stay away, so the pack always brought us back.

A field sprint it was to be. On the last lap up the chicane I found myself in good position to move up, and about halfway up I found Taylor, our sprinter. I ordered him on my wheel, and wove my way up through the pack on the climb. We rounded the corner somewhere in the top 15, and I had to find a wheel to lead us out. I picked Bob Pinkerton, a 45+ superstar on Vitamin Cottage. Little did I know, however, that Bob isn't a sprinter and wasn't going to mix it up. So I waited for his jump, which never came. 300m to go I jumped anyway, but way out of reach for the win. Taylor jumped around me at the last minute for 8th - I rolled in 9th. Not too bad, all things considered.

Salida 2008, or What Not To Do in a Race

Road race - Saturday 7-26-2008: My favorite road course in CO. a 12-mile loop, with not a lick of flat in it. 1300' of climbing each lap, with the finish at the top. A real all-rounder's course, perfect for me.

I drove down there with my teammate Taylor, a gifted sprinter, but not a renowned climber. We left Denver at 6 with Chipoltle Burritos. Got to Salida at 8, and I accompanied another teammate Jeff to dinner. Not that I needed dinner again, but I ate it anyway - a big blackened chicken salad and a huge basket of sweet-potato fries.

Got up at 7 for our 8:10 start time, got dressed, and went down to the breakfast room and ate: 1 toast sandwich with peanut butter and banana, 1 large waffle with peanut butter, banana, and syrup. I wasn't even hungry.

Some of you might be questioning my judgment, eating a huge breakfast some 35 minutes before maybe the hardest race in the season. Well, my judgment was sleeping in at the apartment in Denver, so I didn't question it at all.

Race starts, and I'm good. 10 miles in we start the real climb, and I'm there. Near the front, legs are firing, I'm going to have a good day......until...... Halfway up, my stomach demands I pull over and get rid of breakfast (and probably the 2nd dinner as well). Pack is gone up the road, and I spend the next lap riding within the relatively low limits my guts impose.

I rode the rest of the 72 mile race solo - I was remarkably fast for being alone, which just means I had really good legs and squandered them by overeating. I was making up time every lap, but you just can't close that kind of gap.

Most guys drop out of races like that when they're dropped, but not me - I finished 39th of 45 finishers, after 68 started. This course is just too good not to ride, especially since I'd driven all that way to do it. The highlight of the course is the downhill - you go over the top, scream through some curvy rollers, and then go down quick. It's like a roller-coaster - you can see what's coming and you just have to be ready. Cruising at 48 or so, you drop over this last pitch and hit close to 60 on each lap.

A couple pics - the photog was sitting in the middle of the steep climb, yelling things like "Go! Go! Those guys don't have anything on you! Catch them!". Nothing else to do but laugh and mug for the camera.

http://markwoolcott.exposuremanager.com/p/salida_omnium_road_race_2008/_mg_48005

http://markwoolcott.exposuremanager.com/p/salida_omnium_road_race_2008/_mg_492243

Crit: Sunday 7-27-2008: Woke up feeling good, ate a good breakfast 3+ hours before the race. Warmed up, and lined up with the plan that I was to attack on the first lap, just to see what happened. Had a bit of a slow clip-in, and didn't get off the line quickly. A group of 4 did, though, including my teammate Randy. So I went to the front with a guy whose teammate was also up the road, and we kept the pace down to let them get some leash. I watched Randy totally screw up the 4th corner, sending his bike sideways (he stayed up), and dropped himself from the group. I told the other guy at the front that I had to get up there and I would send randy back, so I attacked. Uphill, into the wind. Dumb. I caught the group, but dragged a few with me, and I was spent. Absolutely could not catch onto the pack as they screamed by, so I was dropped. Raced solo (again), but this time for only 20 minutes before I was lapped and pulled. Apparently I only had one effort in me that day, and that was it.

All in all, a fun, but unsuccessful weekend.

A Few More Races

7-22-2008: Golden CSP Race (1-2-3) - picked up Jeff and Jeremy (new cat4s) at REI and rode out to Golden. Warmed up on the back of the 4s race, and lined up for the 1-2-3 race. Don't remember much about the race, don't know how I did, so it must not have been anything too impressive. 1:00:41 race time, average 26.2.

7-24-2008: Golden CSP Race (30+) - Drove out to this one, after attending a UVA club happy hour downtown (in full-kit, no less!). Kari and Kat came with me to spectate. This was the last race of the 30+ series this summer, and I was sitting in 3rd place overall, by a scant 5 points over 4th. Points are awarded on finish placings, with the top-10 each week getting points descending from 10 down to 1 (so a win gets you 10 points, etc.). Problem was, the guy in 4th place was Micheal Gibson, a recent national criterium champion. He can ride. He had also accumulated his points in fewer races, by placing highly. His higher placings meant that in the event of a points tie, he would walk away with the 3rd place.

So I had to place no farther back than 4 behind him if we both finished in the points.

Given that my legs weren't that good, and the overall meant more to me than the result of this particular race, I made it my job to mark him the whole time. It was windy, and the group split multiple times, but every time he accelerated, I went with him. Every time he attacked, I went with him.

A break of 5 got away after one of the points laps, and neither of us was in it. Ordinarily, I would have fought to get in it or to bridge, but with Gibson in the pack with me, I sat in - 5 people away meant 5 points placings that were out of reach for us, which dramatically increased my odds of keeping my 3rd. On one lap I was leading the pack up the hill to the line when Gibson literally shot off the front like a cannon-ball, trying to bridge to the break.

Race lost - if he makes it, he'll win, and that puts me at best in 7th place, out of 3rd. Luckily, the break had too much leash already, and we caught him a lap later. For the rest of the race I stayed off the front and on his wheel.

Field sprint approached, and I glued myself to him. I stayed with him all the way until his final kick, which I simply couldn't hold. He finished 6th, me 7th. Mission accomplished, although I imagine it was pretty boring for Kari & Kat.

To give you an idea of his sprint, remember that on his wheel, I have to produce between 30-40% less power than he does in the wind to stay with him. When he jumped at the end, I was cross-eyed and just watched him ride off. Amazing.

Sunday rides

Sunday mornings are a wonderful time to ride bikes. There is very little traffic and what traffic there is is usually "nice" traffic. Take yesterday for example. Mary and I went on an almost Girls Only Ride (almost, that is, except for Barry who rode with us to Rapidan). We left from the top of Moonshine Mountain in almost chilly temperatures, under a clear blue sky with no wind. It was a perfect day to be on the bikes! Barry met us about halfway down to the Robinson River and joined us until we got to Rapidan. In Rapidan we crossed the Rapidan River and took the obligatory loop in Orange so we could say we rode in three counties. After re-crossing the river, Mary and I headed out toward Mitchells and Barry headed back to Oak Park.

There was so little traffic on the roads that I would be surprised if we encountered a total of ten vehicles. We pedaled out past the old Rapidan Berry Gardens, past the quarries and even past the....ahem.....detention center (beware of hitchhikers!). While there were few cars, what we did see were lots of cyclists. At least twenty, maybe more. They were all going in the opposite direction (did we miss the memo?) and looked to be having just as much fun as we were. My knee, after tweaking it at work on Friday, was cooperating but I did not want to push my luck so we headed back to Moonshine Mountain after reaching Mitchells. A total of 29 beautiful miles.

Compare that to last Sunday when Barry, Aden, Mary and I rode the 31 mile Original Kelly's Ford Flyer (some people didn't get enough of it the first time and did it again...). Like yesterday, it was a mostly sunny, warm day but with more humidity. Still, any day is a good day if we are on the bikes! We had considerably more traffic and several of the drivers would pull up behind us and honk their horns before they passed. I don't get it. We weren't blocking the road at all, yet they seemed impatient. The KFF route is a very popular one so there are cyclists on it frequently. Maybe some of those other cyclists DO block traffic... Come to think of it, we met several other cyclists on that ride too, and they, too were going in the opposite direction. hmmmm...

Good Stuff!

Ok, it's been a little while since I wrote anything here. I was waiting for inspiration and on my way home from the bike ride this afternoon, I got it. My ear was stuck to the cell phone, as it often is that time of day, talking to Michael. **Break for Public Service Announcement: I am sure you all were worried about him, but he is fine. He survived the earthquake in CA without a scratch, though he says things were shaking, rattling & rolling for a few seconds. Now back to your regularly scheduled blog.**

A beep in my ear signaled a text message. After I hung up from talking to Michael, I checked my message and it was from NYC-dwelling daughter, Liz. She had news - she has been published!!! Now for you seasoned writers, I am sure that is nothing special, but this is her first time and a dream come true for her. Yay, Liz! (Please picture proud Mom, patting herself on the back as she is sure Liz got her talent from her...)

Another reason to be happy tonight - yet again, we MADcyclists dragged our unsuspecting victims (a.k.a. Mary & Aden) on a leisurely 16 mile ride - on Ruth Road...(insert evil laugh here)....and they did a spectacular job! I can't say the same for me - I was slow and my legs were screaming - but hey, it was still fun. Every ride is.

Mt Evans & Leaning Tree Crit

Mt Evans:

Been fighting a summer cold all week, and woke up to the alarm at 530 Saturday feeling like a train ran over me. Evans, with 28 miles of virtually uninterrupted climbing, is simply not a race you can fake, so pulling the plug on that one was an easy decision.

But I did ride! Sort of. After a few more hours of sleep, I got up, determined to get my climbing workout in, saddled up, and left downtown at 11 headed to Golden, intent on riding up Golden Gate canyon (18 miles up & down - 3 serious climbs to the Peak-to-Peak Hwy), north on the P2P and then back down (up) Coal Creek canyon through wundervu. It was 100 degrees in town, 98 in Golden, and I made it to the top of the first climb dizzy and unable to focus on the road. I turned around and coasted the best I could back to Denver. Too hot, too sick, too miserable.

Sunday was no cooler, but I loaded the car and headed to Boulder for the Leaning Tree crit. The sun cooked us as we lined up, and we were off. Thankfully the heat was hurting everyone, and it kept speeds down (25.5mph for the hour-long race). So what do you do when you're sick, struggling to swallow, overheating, and almost certain to have to drop out before the finish? You attack, of course!

So I did, over and over, every time the pack would mushroom I would shoot off the front. Unfortunately, my condition didn't leave me with the power to stay away, so I got reeled back in every time. A break got away early with 3 guys in it, but I don't think any of us gave it a snowball's chance in [Boulder] of staying away in that heat.

I spent the race alternately hiding from the wind, slowing the pack when a teammate would attack, attacking, and chasing my friend Richard up and down the pack while he made sound effects (vrooom vrooom and other airplane/F1 noises).

Got on the wrong side of the wind on the last lap, and was cooked by the time the real sprint started at about 200m to go. Coasted through the finish in search of shade.

Shameless crowing....

I logged my 1300th mile of the year early this morning, while on a 15-mile ride south o'Cville. Yayyyyyyyyyy! (Just had to tell somebody!.. :-)

Tuesday & Thursday Races

Things were more on the "normal" side of insane this week.

Rode out with Jeff and Jeremy again on Tuesday in 95 degree heat, got them signed up and rode the back of their pack for a while, playing taxi whenever they looked like they needed it (if I thought they were too far back, or on the wrong side of a split, I would ride up, put them on my wheel, and ride them up into position).

The 1-2-3 race started out with a bang again, but not quite as bad as last week. Speed varied greatly, and a few times I thought I was going to get popped out, but the bruisers would slow up just in time. On the last lap I found myself near the back, and started riding up to the front through the chicane. I picked up 2 teammates, and decided I was probably better in position to lead them out than go for my own finish, so we went cruising up the inside of the pack, got pinched a bit on the last corner, and I hit the gas to get up with the front and stay with them while they started.

We were riding counter-clockwise this week, so the finish straight was flat. It's about 500m long, so I'd already done lots of work and had a long way to go. I drilled it to start my leadout and stay on the wheel of one of those aussie kids, and by about 200m to go I was cooked and wondering when the hell one of my guys was going to jump around me. I finally looked back and saw no one there, so I put my hand up and eased off the pack, and rolled in somewhere in the pack. Turns out they'd both lost my wheel in the final turn.

Per my computer, exactly 28mph for 30 miles.

Thursday's 30+ race was a bit slower. 30 guys, of whom about 8 were from the MOB team, 3 from HART, and the rest of us flying solo. Speed varied greatly from leisurely 22mph up the hill to eye-peeling accelerations, but I hung with everything. With those teams so well represented, and the series-leader on the HART team, I wasn't interested in doing any work at all on the front unless the leader (Carlos, a cat 1) got in a break.

About halfway into the race, this former Vitamin Cottage guy Chris went off the front and got a sizable gap. One of Carlos' teammates rode to the front to start reeling him back in, and I hitched a ride on his wheel. Sitting second, I still wasn't interested in doing anything - as a member of the unofficial ad-hoc "Not-Mob-or-HART" team, anyone else who went off the front was more than welcome to have at it. The HART guy chasing Chris down started flicking his elbow for me to take my pull, which, of course, I had no interest in doing, so I just sat there. I even sat up a little bit and let the HART guy ride away.

So Carlos comes up beside me, steaming, taps me on the hip and says "if you're going to sit second wheel, you have to pull!". I just laughed at him - I don't know who the idiot is here, Carlos, but I'm pretty sure it's not me. I'm not your stooge today.

Good times.

Anyway, I screwed up my positioning for the sprint and had to come from waaaaay too far back, and netted an astonishing 10th. That gets me one series point, which hopefully keeps me in 3rd overall for the finale this week.

Happy Birthday to You

Every day is someone's birthday. No, every day is many, many someones' birthdays.(Someone's? Where does that apostrophe go anyway?) There is hardly a day that goes by when I do not know of a person or a member of his family who is celebrating a birthday. But it is when that day is celebrated by a person who is one of the most important people in my life that I stop and really think: What a special day this is!

Not only is this person having a birthday, but this person is someone who makes me proud; someone who makes me laugh; someone who makes me cry - in a good way. I hurt because I cannot be there every minute to experience all the wonderful - and not-so-wonderful - things life throws at this person. Come to think of it, I have been present for many of those things, even recently. And if I was not there physically, I was a phone call away. I am glad for that. I hope I am always there in some shape or form.

I remember when you were born. It was a hot, humid July day. It took eleven hours of very, very hard work but when you arrived, all that hard work was immediately a distant memory. Thus began about 2 1/2 months of little sleep for me.....but oh, so many wonderful hours of togetherness! You were a fussy baby - no wonder you ended up cycling! You absolutely, positively hated being still! Those few months (five, to be exact) before you were independently mobile were quite frustrating for you. Once you could crawl, you were much happier. And crawl you did! Then walk, then run, then swim...

I do not have the words to express how proud you have made me, nor do I have the words to express how much I love you - but I do. I wish I could give you the world because that is what you deserve. Happy Birthday, Lee. I love you.

All's Right with the World

What a wonderful ride tonight! Five of us met at Criglersville School for a 21 mile loop over Etlan Mountain, up F. T. Valley Rd., along the flank of Old Rag, then back through Etlan to Poor House Road & back to the school. The weather was warm, probably about 85 degrees, and the humidity was tolerable - somewhat less than 90%.

What did not happen: No one wrecked! And we didn't see bears on Etlan Mtn., doggonnit!

What did happen: Two very new cyclists made it up the steep side of Etlan Mtn.! Amazing. I think I had been road riding at least two years before the rest of my cycling buddies cajoled me into attempting the climb - and even then I needed to stop and regroup part-way up. Oh yeah, and I hated that climb for the next three years - until I learned how to master it without feeling like I was going to die.

The sun was shining, I was finally on the bike after an endless week of waiting until my Lasik surgery allowed me to ride, and I got to wear a nifty pair of NON-PRESCRIPTION sunglasses. Woo hoo!! It's the little things....

I have needed this ride for more reasons than just getting back on the bike, and today made everything (well, almost) ok again. Michael still needs to come home...

I am riding again tomorrow....and maybe Thursday, but definitely Friday and hopefully Saturday. I feel good!

Tuesday Race

Holy Crap.

That would be enough for me to say if you were there, but you weren't. For the record, I wasn't even supposed to be on my bike Tuesday per my coach, but I can't turn down a race, especially mid-week.

I rode out to Golden with new teammates Jeff and Jeremy at about 4:30 on Tuesday for the regular midweek "training" race series held at the State Patrol driving track on South Table Mountain. Lined up with those guys and rode the Cat4 race with them. I just tail-gunned it, riding up through the pack and coaching them when they looked like they needed it. I pulled out for the last lap - we're not allowed to interfere with the finish sprint, or any of the points sprints.

Jeff got 4th, while Jeremy was caught behind a terrible-looking crash midway through the sprint (everyone walked away ok).

Lined up in the back of the very large (90+?) 1-2-3 field. The wind was terrible. We were racing clockwise Tuesday, which means that we went up the hill to the finish. The wind was blowing straight up the hill, which might sound good - an uphill tailwind, right? Unfortunately, that on means that the wind negates any benefit of drafting, so the hill becomes just a power-to-weight ratio hammer-fest.

The ref blew the whistle, and we were off like a rocket. I was only planning to stay in until it got hard, which I assumed would be about 9 or 10 laps into our scheduled 21. Colby Pierce had other ideas. We went up the hill the first time at 35mph. Every section was guttered against the wind, and sitting mid-pack 1.5 laps in I'd had enough.

Those guys shelled about 5-10 riders each lap, and everyone who limped in after being dropped had the 100-mile stare and was mumbling incoherently.

I don't know who ended up winning, but it wasn't me. Whenever Mike Gibson (former national crit champ) is getting shot out the back of a chase group, it's not a race I want to be in. CO's race community has been talking about Tuesday all week - apparently the fastest race anyone can remember.

A warm "welcome back", right?

It is strange how seemingly little things become big, depending on the circumstances. I am so tired of whining. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of waiting for something good to happen when something else always gets in the way. I am tired.

Love/Hate Relationship

I have a love/hate relationship with Virginia. The hot, humid, sultry days are the ones I am not particularly fond of. We have had a few of those lately. Last night was warm and still, but at about 2:30 I awoke to pouring rain and wind. Uh oh - the windows were open. I got up to check and sure enough, the rain had blown in the "bike room" windows. It had blown so far that the hardwood floor was wet for about 2 ft. Not only that, but Godiva was SOAKED! (For those of you who do not know, Godiva is my totally naked, not-a-drop-of-paint-on-her-frame, titanium bike. My "little [NOT] red sports car", if you will.) I grabbed a bunch of paper towels & mopped her off, then decided I should probably take a swipe or two at the floor. By that time it was approaching 3 a.m. and I knew I needed to get back to bed if I was going to be able to get up and make it to work this morning. Being a Monday, and considering I had missed a couple Mondays recently, I figured losing sleep over a wet bicycle was not a good enough reason to take off....

Here on Moonshine Mountain we have had three wonderful rain showers in the last 20 hours or so. Prior to the first one (above), it was getting pretty dry. In the heat of the summer it doesn't take long to get dry. What I love about Virginia is that once it rains this place is glorious. Mother Nature did us a favor with those showers - particularly the last one that came through just about an hour ago. She swept the air clean. The grass is a vivid shade of green; the flowers in the garden are glowing, and the birds are singing. Who needs music when the windows can be opened? Goldfinches are outside asking their never-ending questions, a red bellied woodpecker is chastising every blue jay that dares approach the feeder and the cardinals are chirping their joy at the clean air. In the edge of the trees a wood thrush sings the most beautiful song any bird could sing. His notes are pure and clear and I can't get enough of them.

I have been in a funk the last few days because what I want to do and what I have to do are two entirely different things. Want = ride my bike. Have = work, mow, clean, work more. I feel better now. Thank you, Mother Nature.

Washington and Old Dominion Trail Report

Today, I drove out to Vienna from Old Town Alexandria, to pick up the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. I went out there rather than picking up the trail at its beginning in Shirlington because I'd read that there were less street crossings from Vienna west.

I rode out about twenty miles toward Leesburg and it was great, a much different kind of charm than the Mt. Vernon trail. First, it's almost perfectly straight and flat. I averaged about 15.5 mph which was about all I'd be able to do even on a road without street crossings--especially with a temperature of 90+. I highly recommend it.

I'm so glad I brought my bike along for the week up here. I got in 20 miles on Monday, 20 on Wednesday, and 40 today. I liked the schedule of the day. Ride in the morning; lunch, then preparation for my evening presentations and "working" (if that's what you call lecturing and leading discussions of ethical issues) from 7-9 pm.

Rist Canyon Race Report

Will be brief (or I'll try anyway):

Backstory first: I've been training pretty hard since November of last year. Didn't really take much time off, as I was hoping to come blasting into this season and get a few good results early. out here, the season starts in March, and if we have a cold winter that means it's really hard to be in shape when you first take the line. I trained, got into reasonable shape, then crashed badly while in a training ride up on the Peak-to-Peak hwy on March 1. Mental recovery from that kind of crash is the worst - you just lose the edge to take corners fast, go downhill quickly, etc.

So despite my preparations, the start of the season was a wash. Didn't really get my edge back until mid-May, and started to get some results. Raced 6 times in 9 days at the beginning of June, did a couple hard training rides, and mentally I was boiling over.

Went to Eagle, Co to do the 85 mile "Rock the River Road Race" June 14. I'd been dreading it all week, but couldn't figure out why. I was pretty active in the first half of the race, keeping the pack fast and covering attacks that went off on the early rollers. Got to the one substantial hill before the turnaround and just cracked. The hill started with about a half-mile 10% wall, then leveled out to about 6% for another mile and change. Made it up the wall with he lead group, and just didn't want to ride anymore. Dropped off and limped home with a chase group fighting for 16th place.

A mostly off-week later (with one TT thrown in) landed me with several teammates at the Rist Canyon RR in Ft. Collins. 65 miles with some very painful climbs. We started out with a trip up to the Horsetooth Reservoir Dam, and rode along the dam road before dropping into Rist Canyon for the "real" climb at mile 11. The dam road has a series of very steep rollers, each about 3/4 to 1.5 miles long, that you have to ride over. They hurt, but I was hanging in there just fine, sag-climbing in the pack. We descended into Rist (55mph+) and started our climb up the valley. It's pretty moderate for the first few miles, but the 2nd to the last is at 9-11% and the last mile is steady 11-12%. I got about 2 miles into the climb and just realized that I didn't want to race. It was hot, it hurt, my drinks were already hot, and I just wanted to go home and drink beer.

Since I'd paid (and since my ride home was racing with me), I decided I couldn't just quit, but instead I just sat up and let the lead group ride away. Thought about riding up to a teammate to tell him I was out, but decided that just riding up through the group would hurt more than I was interested in. Did the middle of the ride mostly solo, and picked up a couple guys for the last 20 miles. Dropped all but one on the climbs back up to the res (we had to go all the way over the dam road again), and waited for the last guy every time I dropped him going up a hill. We rode the flat 5 miles back into town together, and rolled through the finish in 39th out of (65?).

Not the best showing, but believe me I was just glad it was over. I'm unofficially taking this and the next 2 weeks off of racing. Just riding and getting my head back in the game.

The after-party was good - free Fat Tire beer! My teammate Dave and I just stood at the beer tent pounding pints until our ride decided to leave.

Mt Vernon Trail II

This morning I rode the rest of the Mt. Vernon Hotel (see below). I rode from my hotel on King Street in Old Town Alexandria north toward the National Airport to the end of the trail at Roosevelt Island (between Key Bridge on the Kennedy Center on the Virginia side of the Potomac). I also crossed the 14th street bridge and rode (dodged tourist) over to the Washington Monument. I went over there because a student of mine at SU is an intern with Amnesty International and they were having an event on the Mall. They had a life size model Guantanamo cell; a bunch of folks were dressed in Orange jump suits carrying signs against torture, closing Guantanamo, and "counter terrorism with justice." I got to see our student and hear the head of Amnesty USA speak. I may also be in the background of a BBC news report!

The ride was much like the ride to Mt. Vernon from Alexandria as reported below. It's an enjoyable ride, but little chance for riding fast because of the narrowness and curves in the trail, the pedestrians, and the ocassional street crossing. The neatest thing was riding past the end of the runway at national while a plane was landing right over my head.

The ride across the 14th street Bridge was fine, but once you get across there are no signs directed cyclists to particular routes, so you're fighting pedestrians, policemen on horseback, and traffic. I did see a number or bikers actually riding in the traffic rather than on the wide sidewalks around the mall. I don't recommend riding in the area of the mall, but with some experience one might be able to find pleasant places to ride.

Of course, the views from the trail on the Virginia side across the river to the monuments is great.

The Rest of the Story...

I am a new roadie and I have not yet reached the point in my cycling career where I can “just ride.” I am constantly evaluating a thousand things: fidgeting around trying to find the “sweet spot” on my saddle (as a horseman and saddler, I am amused that this postage stamp qualifies as a “saddle”!), remembering to hydrate, monitoring my balance, my cadence, my breathing—well, you get the idea…

So last Sunday, whilst tooling along a lovely section of our county back roads, I dropped in behind Jane to accommodate what I thought might be a “car back” and bumped her rear wheel in the process. Indeed, I bumped it briskly enough that I knew I was going to “fall down, go boom!” I did have the presence of mind to disengage (so I wouldn’t take her down with me) before I unceremoniously collapsed in a heap on the tarmac. I went down pretty hard. Naturally, my first inclination was to render first aid to my lovely new Tuscany. Not a scratch—the bike, that is. My body seemed to have acted as an adequate buffer. Oh joy. I was bleeding from virtually every point of contact on my right side, but my gleaming titanium beauty appeared to be unscathed.

I say appeared because, as Jane has elucidated elsewhere on this blog, we were well into our ride the following Sunday when disaster struck quite unexpectedly. Following a thoughtful post-mortem, we collectively developed “The Little Bang” theory: The rear derailleur had apparently taken a hit during my previous fall, thus knocking it slightly out of alignment. It managed to soldier on, doing its job like a Trojan for several rides during the week, but it was definitely an accident looking for a place to happen. When it did finally give way (while I was shifting, of course), it quite literally exploded! Ripped loose from its moorings and torqued into something resembling an alloy potato chip, the derailleur spewed tiny bits of fine Italian metalwork in every direction as the dangling ballast pummeled the spokes mercilessly, actually breaking one. (In the interest of full disclosure, there is some debate as to which came first, the chicken or the egg: Did a compromised spoke break first and cleverly insinuate itself into the already ailing derailleur, or t’other way ’round? Scott Paisley of Blue Wheel Bikes concurs with the latter theory, but hey, six of one…).

Now, this particular route (the Moonshine Mtn./Tatum School Rd. Loop) is quite hilly, so it was fortuitous that we happened to be traversing a gentle stretch of road at the time. I was therefore able to keep the machine under control long enough to roll out of the road, unclip and rather gingerly step—rather than fall—off (as I have been known to do in the past). What a relief!

As of this writing, my lovely Tuscany remains hors de combat. Sigh.

Obviously, I have the “luck o’ the Irish” which, as any historian will attest, is all bad! But having said that, I was able to assist in moving not one, but two box turtles out of harm’s way as they attempted to cross the road. A very good thing! As this was my third, shall we say, “incident” since taking up group riding at the Tour de Madison, I’m confident I will remain upright and accident-free for some time to come (unless, of course, someone, somewhere is poking needles into a little Aden doll…).

No bunny hoppin' but plenty of hoppin' bunnies!

Last night I took my underutilized MTB out for a 6.5 mile jaunt on gorgeous gravel Clark Road outside of Cville. What a picture perfect evening----and, d'oh, I left my camera at home! The riding was just fine, as always, but the real treat was the scenery and fauna. The Our Lady of the Angels Monastery property anchors the east end of the 3.5 mile road and takes up about a mile's worth of frontage on both sides. Beautiful pastures and fields, very little traffic, and the lovely sound of tolling bells floating out from the chapel tower on the hour. "Heavenly," so to speak!

I rode out to 810 and back. On the 810 end, I spotted a beaver playfully skimming the surface of the creek, about as much in a (non-)hurry as I was, LOL! No box turtles tonight---surprising---but more rabbits than I have ever seen outside of Easter Week! At least two dozen darted back and forth across the road as I cruised along. A couple of them were so small that at first they appeared to be mice or really tiny squirrels. Cute, cute, cute! Of course, if you're trying to maintain a vegetable garden out there, the cuteness factor quickly loses its luster, LOL!

At any rate, a 'nothing special' ride on an utterly beautiful evening.........Keep 'em coming! ..... Picture is of my darlin' border collie and sidekick Sam, convening a council of Monastery cows on Clark about a month ago. The whole herd gathered at the fence to check out their tiny B&W visitor.....

What's up with the Sunday rides?

Sunday #1 - June 1 - Barry and I drive to Winchester (Barry drove, I told him how!) for the first annual Shenandoah Valley Heritage Ride. The ride was relatively uneventful except it was pretty warm and breezy and the ride got quite hilly as the miles ticked by. We even had the privilege of climbing - quite unexpectedly - S.O.B. #2! Oh yay! The only hill I have climbed on a bike that I can consider similar to those walls is one on the bike trail climbing up Vail Pass from the Vail side. Believe me, that hill is a BEAST - and in Winchester we had to climb two of them! yeesh! The only way to get up that hill is to stand and grind it out....and that's what I had to do. Twice.

About two or three miles from the finish of the ride, as we approached Winchester, we rode by a hay field that was in the process of being mowed. As it happened the wind was blowing across that field toward us - and suddenly my left eye was itching like crazy and felt like I had sand in it. By the time we got back to the ride start my eye was so swollen I could hardly see out of it! I was miserable. (My eye was so bad I would wind up taking Monday off to let the swelling go down.)

End of Sunday #1.

Sunday #2 - June 15 - The Three Stooges Ride (also, the Campy club ride). Aden, Bates and I started out from Bates' house at about 8:30, all on bicycles with Campagnolo drivetrains. The day promised to be sunny and warm - mid to upper 80's with probably 60% humidity. Typical summer day. Our plan was to ride up Weakley Hollow, then take a possible side trip up Quaker Run, then return. The ride would be about 30 miles. After just over three miles, in downtown Heaven (a.k.a. Haywood), we stopped at the intersection of Hebron Valley Rd. & Hoover Rd. Ever the tinkerer, Bates decided to adjust his seatpost. He did, then as he attempted to tighten the 5mm bolt on the seatpost it split. Bates decided to try and ride home - standing up all the way!

Aden and I pressed-on. Once we got on Bohannan Rd. we had settled into a good rhythm and were chatting while we rode when a UFO whacked into the left lens of my glasses. Normally that would not be a problem but said UFO then bounced down to my cheek and STUNG ME! OUCH!!!

My cheek stung but was ok so we kept riding. Somewhere up Weakley Hollow, Aden was riding just behind and to the left of me. He mentioned that he couldn't tell if the noise he heard was a car or the river beside us. Just after he said that, he pulled in behind me but in the process he clipped my rear wheel. I stayed upright but he went down in spectacular fashion! What incredible road rash he came away with! I make fun of it now, but he was hurting. Thankfully we had extra bottles of water so he could irrigate his elbows and knees. Always the trooper (he was a Green Beret, after all), rode on without a complaint. We decided that three things had happened so we were probably good for the rest of the ride. We were right - we made it back to the ride start in good shape.

It wasn't until after I had gotten home, eaten something, taken a shower and then a nap that I realized the left side of my face had swollen from just under my eye down to my jaw. I looked like a cartoon character who had a huge toothache! Just then I decided that if I looked like that the next morning I was calling-in sick. I did and I did.

End of Sunday #2.

You already know about Sunday #3 from my post about this past Sunday. So here's the question: Is there some mis-alignment of the stars on Sundays? Should I stay under the covers instead?

Picture from Annual Conference/Holy Rollers

I spoke before the Virginia Annual Conference on behalf of the Holy Rollers. A friend sent me the following picture.

Mt. Vernon Trail

I'm just back from a ride from Old Town Alexandria to Mt. Vernon on the Mt. Vernon Trail. My hotel is one block from the trail, where passes through Old Town on the streets, and it's exactly 20 miles from here to Mt. Vernon and back.

It was a most enjoyable ride. It is NOT the kind of riding we are used to in Madison. The trail is very much like the parts of the Cap to Cap trail we've been on. It's narrow and crooked and there were lots of walkers, joggers, and bikers...mostly on hybrids or commuter bikes. There was no place I was able to put the hammer down. I averaged 12.4 MPH on the entire ride.

Still, for what it is it was a great experience. Mostly flat with some rolling knolls (I won't call them hills). Some beautiful views along the Potomac, particular down toward Mt. Vernon. It crosses lots of streets, but in residential areas along the Parkway where there is little traffic and well-mannered. The one time I would have actually had to stop for a car, the car stopped and waved me through!

There is one place about 3 miles from Mt. Vernon where a bridge on the trail is under construction and I had to walk the bike for oh 50 yards or so.

It was weird going under the Wilson Bridge which is under construction. There was actually a flag man under the bridge working the trail telling cyclists to slow or stop. They were working on cranes up under the bridge, which is quite low right there, as I passed.

A recommmended experience, but not for training for a fast or hilly ride!

The Three Stooges do it again...

For some reason there is this weird karma with my Sunday rides. (oh no, Barry....here' s your opening!) The good news is, I made it back safe and sound from our 32 mile ride this morning. However, there was trouble on the road. I will get to that shortly.

Today dawned bright and sunny despite the NWS forecast of "cloudy". There was little or no wind and the temperatures were slowly rising into the low-80's. Humidity was low for Virginia at about 58%. Bates, Aden and I decided to do the "Moonshine Mountain > Tatum School Loop", leaving from the top of Moonshine Mtn. Virginia is so lush and green now; we have had just enough rain to make the vegetation happy. We rode past fields of cattle with new baby calves, past fields of newly baled hay and past flower gardens full of black-eyed Susans. The Clydesdale farm has two mares with foals out by the road - talk about cute! Oh my, those 500 lb. babies are adorable. As Aden said, it looked like a post card.

The ride was uneventful with lots of fun downhills (followed by some "ups) when 23 miles into the ride I heard a clanking noise and some four letter words from behind me. I turned to see Aden and Bates off their bikes and in conference with one another - and looking at Aden's bike. It seems somehow his rear derailleur exploded. Sort of. I have no other way of putting it. It was in pieces on the road and hanging by a thread...uh....cable....but not attached to the bike frame any more. There was one broken spoke and another bent, and the poor rear wheel was way out of true. Despite valiant efforts by Bates "MacGyver" McLain, Aden was done for the day. We left him sitting in a yard under a big oak tree, as we pedaled for home. Bates took off to pick him up.

That's all I know, so I will let Aden or Bates (or both) pick up the story from here.

Regarding the weird karma, that is for another post - stay tuned - I will tell the story of the "Three Stooges Ride" from last Sunday soon. For now I will get off here and go clean my bike. I love a shiny, clean bike! Ride safe out there!