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!