Hey there Madcyclists!
Heading home for 12 days this Thursday, and looking forward to some serious saddle-time on the best roads in the world. Hope I can catch a few miles with a few of you.
Hoping as well that that weather cooperates - this has been a weird year out here too - really really cold and very wet, usually on the days I planned to ride. Let's all do a dance for a mild winter - sunny, warm, and lots of tailwinds.
Don't have many riding stories to share at this point, but I want to tag on a bit to Mom (Jane)'s description of the Triply Bypass. That is a long, hard ride, and we finished it in the 2nd worst conditions that anyone remembers. It was an awesome accomplishment. Anyone want to sign up for next year?
Lee
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Weirdness
This has been the strangest year:
- The economy crashed & everyone has been on-edge about jobs and such - and with good reason.
- The summer was cool and wet - good, but weird, just the same. We saved a bundle on electricity because I don't think we turned on the A/C all summer.
- See previous post - I accomplished something I truly never thought I would do. Of course, since then I have barely been on the bike between work and shorter days.
- It's COLD this weekend. Warm last. Warm tomorrow. Snow in the forecast? in October in VA? Huh?
- My hip. Turns out I have a mis-aligned pelvis. The therapist is not sure if it was caused by an injury or is something I have had all my life. What we do know is that for years I have been prone to nagging pain and injury on my left side. Now it is going to be at least 2 months before I can hike, walk any distance or run.
- I love to run & this is the best time of year to do it. Waaa.
- Parents who cook up a reality TV show & put their 6 year old kid up to an elaborate hoax...only to get busted by that same 6 year old. Good for him!
- Hate. Is it just me or is there a lot more hate these days? I wish we could all just be nice & respect one another's differences. Chill.
- TV. I'm so glad we aren't wasting $$ on that any more.
- Swine Flu. 'Nuff said.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
My Triple Bypass
"Well, you leave the school parking lot and start climbing...for a very long time." Those words, Lee's answer to my question about what the first ascent would be like in the Triple ByPass, have haunted me for almost a year. While I rode and rode and rode and trained and trained, I still never quite felt like I was up to the task of riding 120 miles in the Rockies. Constant doubt clouded my anticipation and dampened my enthusiasm. Still, I had set this goal and I was damned if my mind was going to screw with me. I was going to do it, doggonnit.
On Thursday, July 9 Godiva, all packed in her case, and I boarded a Frontier Airlines jet in Washington, DC and headed west to Denver. Arriving at Lee's apartment around 11:30 a.m. MT, I unpacked the bike, put her together & then headed out through town to the Cherry Creek bike trail. I rode again twice on Friday in an effort to remind my legs that they had a job to do on Saturday. Amazingly, I felt great and ready to ride. I still had a touch of worry about completing the climbs - but not much. I was proud that I was pushing all the doubting demons aside.
My cell phone alarm was set for 5:15 a.m. Saturday. Lee and I got up, I ate a bowl of oatmeal (with bananas and almonds), drank some coffee and then loaded his car and headed to Bergen Park for the start of the ride. The plan was for me to start riding at 6:30 a.m. but we were running just a little behind (so what else is new!) and I think I actually took the first pedal stroke at 6:45 or so. Lee watched me take off and then he went to a local coffee shop for more caffeine and some breakfast. Even though he was giving me a 90-minute head start, I figured if his original description of the first climb was anywhere near accurate he would catch me as I labored toward the top. Ha! Not only did I make the top of the climb but I was at rest stop #2 (Georgetown) 40 miles into the ride before he caught me.
Saturday had dawned sunny and warm. I think the temperatures were in the upper 50's when I started riding. I used arm warmers but not my knee warmers and was perfectly comfortable. In my jersey pockets I stowed a jacket for the inevitable rain showers that afternoon (I was hoping, since I was prepared, that the sun would shine the entire time). The temperatures eventually got to the low 80's, I am guessing.
"Leave the parking lot and climb for a very long time" was correct, but the climb was nowhere near what I expected. I don't know exactly what the grade was but I would guess it ranged from 3% to 8%, maybe a little steeper in short sections but mostly not bad. Long is what it was - 14 miles to the top of Squaw Pass at 9,708 ft., followed by an all-too-brief downhill and then another climb to the top of Juniper Pass (11,140 ft.). Lee had told me that the ride is very social and it really was. It is easy to talk to folks when there are 3500 participants. Since I was riding solo I spoke to just about everyone who passed me (lots of young whipper-snappers!) and everyone I passed. NOTE: I actually passed people! I was amazed that I was passing folks but I was - and I certainly was not speedy. It felt good to know I was faster than others, especially since I had gambled on arriving just before the ride. Based on past experience I theorized that arriving a week or even 10 days ahead would not give me enough time to acclimate to the altitude, so why bother? Instead, I decided to arrive just before, attempt the ride and then enjoy the rest of my vacation. (The gamble worked - wonder if I can stretch my luck to include the lottery?)
Some conversations involved breathing (or the inability to do so - I passed one poor 30-something guy from Chicago who had arrived a week prior and still could not breathe. I never saw him the rest of the day so I have no idea if he made it or not.) and lots of conversations were of the "where are you from?" variety. Once, a man asked me that question & I found that he had lived in VA for some years and had graduated from UVa ('67). I told him to look at my socks - I was wearing my UVa cycling socks - Wahoowa! I also told him that Lee had graduated from The University as well & that he would be meeting me later. Other conversations involved gear and components. Lots of comments about Godiva's lovely pink hubs and at least one about her manufacturer. Interestingly, all comments about the pink hubs came from men. Wouldn't you think women would notice? Humph!
The first rest stop, just over the top of Juniper Pass, was a welcome sight! Having been warned to pack in the food at every opportunity and to drink constantly, I was ready to get some vittles and refill bottles. I had already consumed a 22 oz. bottle of Heed energy drink & another of plain water. I also ate some freshly baked mini-muffins, half a banana and a small Cliff bar. The first eighteen miles were done; 102 to go! Trying to be as efficient with my stops as possible, I hopped back on the bike and headed down, down, down, past Echo Lake (the entrance to Mt. Evans, one of Colorado's 14'ers and the location of the highest paved road in the country), down, down, down to the town of Idaho Springs.
Idaho Springs marked the beginning of what I consider the toughest part of the ride, not counting the weather later in the day. This mountain town, wedged between Mt. Evans and Oh-My-God Road (really!), and bisected by I-70, marked the beginning of a 25 mile mostly gradual climb to the foot of the next pass, Loveland. Looking at the scenery - steep mountainsides, abandoned mines, old Victorian houses and spotting wildflowers were a helpful diversion. To me, this was much more difficult than climbing an actual pass. The wind was beginning to pick up and was always a headwind because it was blowing down from the Continental Divide straight through this canyon-like split in the Rockies.
As we cycled through Idaho Springs, locals lined the street ringing cowbells and cheering us on, just like in the Tour de France! It was such fun and something we encountered all along the route. Occasionally we would pass some children with a lemonade stand for the riders - and they were giving away the lemonade! (Ahem...didn't see any popsicles though.) The slog up to Loveland started at a low of about 7500 ft. and ended at 10,600 ft. at the base of the pass. Gaining that 3000 ft. in 25 miles was a long, hot, sometimes steep process. The route mostly followed the frontage road (old Route 6), parallelled I-70, and included a 2-mile dirt section near the town of Georgetown.
Georgetown marked the second rest stop and when I arrived (40 miles in, 80 to go) I still had not seen Lee. I stopped, filled bottles, ate more, went to the bathroom and ran into the UVa graduate again. He asked if my son had caught me yet and I said no. He replied, "Good! I hope you stay ahead of him!" Not two minutes later I saw Lee. I was happy to see him and we rode mostly together for the rest of the ride. Leaving the rest stop and after the dirt section, the road turned steeply upward for a short distance, then dumped us onto a bike path that climbed up to the level of I-70 through a series of switchbacks. This 5-mile bike path was probably the steepest of the ride and I was happy when we dropped back down below the interstate onto the frontage road again. Eventually the route ran out of frontage road and the inevitable happened - we rode on the interstate! Yes, on I-70. Oh boy was I not looking forward to this section. Yet again the anticipation was nowhere near the reality. First of all, the paved shoulder is a full lane wide so there is lots of room. Second, CDOT had swept the shoulder as there was no debris, no rocks, nothing. The climb was significant but because the pavement was so good it was not a bad experience. I stayed as far to the right as possible because I am not crazy about hugging tractor-trailers. Lee stayed either just ahead of me or to my left. We exited I-70 at the Loveland Pass exit and stopped there for the lunch rest stop - mile 56 - 64 to go. Almost halfway!
Lee could tell I had been struggling the last few miles and at one point he opened a gel pack and handed it to me & told me to eat it. I sucked it down without stopping and then slugged some water. At the lunch stop I was definitely not hungry - a sure sign of bonk if I didn't eat - so I force-fed myself a turkey sandwich, some oranges and cookies. Lee sent me off ahead while he visited with some friends, telling me that he would catch me before I got to the top of Loveland Pass. Leaving the parking lot at the rest stop (the parking lot for Loveland Ski area), the route joins Rt. 6 to go over the pass. The entire climb is a series of long switchbacks but the grade is only about 5%. I zoom along on temporarily refreshed legs and before I know it, I am almost at the last turn of the last switchback and Lee has not appeared. Minutes later, here he comes and we top the Continental Divide together. Loveland was the ride's highest elevation at 11,990 ft. and marks the halfway point in the ride at 60 miles. The wind was blowing and it was chilly up there, especially since we were sweating from the climb so we did not stop but immediately started down the other side. From here on out I had ridden the route of the Triple many times - in pieces, not all at once. I was familiar with the roads and trails so I was not at all intimidated by what lay ahead, I was just tired!
The switchbacks on the west side of Loveland Pass are much tighter than the east so I spent a great deal of time standing above and behind the saddle and feathering the brakes. Meanwhile, Lee went zooming down around the turns and before long was so far ahead I could not see him any more. It's at those times that I pretend I have no idea who he is because if I think about being his mother he'll scare me to death! The road twists and turns past Arapaho Basin Ski Area and then straightens. At this point I let Godiva go and somewhere along here I hit my top speed of 41.3 mph. We zoom past Keystone Ski Resort and I rejoin Lee just before we get to the Keystone Market. He had told me that he wanted to stop there and have me drink a Coke. I did - he told me to "slam" it because a storm was brewing quickly. I drank it as quickly as possible while trying to avoid a carbonated explosion in my stomach. Three rather large, rather loud, rather un-ladylike belches later I felt great and could ride again. As we approached the stoplight at Swan Mountain Road the raindrops started. I briefly stopped right beside Lee's first house & put my rain jacket on. Putting the jacket on did the trick as we just felt a few drops and nothing more, though the clouds were heavy and dark. We climbed up and over Swan Mountain - it is only about 3 miles to the top and on the topo map of the route it looks like a little bump. My, how that little bump used to get the best of me when I first started riding in the Rockies! Up and over Swan Mtn. we went and down to the intersection at Farmer's Korner (elevation about 9100 ft.), site of a wreck I had in the rain on my mountain bike about nine years ago. It is at this point that the sugar from the Coke kicked in and I was feeling much better. We passed through the light and joined the bike trail to the town of Frisco. There was another rest stop located at Summit County High School right there at the light. Lee stopped but I kept going. I passed the town of Frisco on the bike trail and headed to Copper Mountain. Somewhere between Frisco and Copper the skies opened - the magic of the jacket seemed to have worn off. Not only was it raining hard but my shoes were filling with water! There was so much water coming down that the trail was covered by a fine layer of H2O that found its way into my shoes at each turn of the pedals. Oh yeah, and the temperature dropped considerably. Brrr! I thought it was a good thing I was continually climbing and generating some heat because it would have been really chilly had I been going downhill. I had no idea what was to come.
The downpour lasted probably ten minutes and then things began to dry up and I began to dry off (except for my feet). Lee and I met up once again just as I arrived at Copper Mountain (elevation 9712 ft.). Copper lies at the base of the third of the Triple Bypass passes - Vail Pass. I remember riding through the Copper Mountain Resort with Lee and saying, "I can do this!" It was the first time that I actually said it out loud. His response was, "F**k yeah you can do it, Mom!" One more climb. I was all psyched and ready to climb when Lee threw a monkey wrench into my thoughts. "Hey Mom, you want to see the crit (criterium) course here?" "Uh....sure....", I say. So off the route we go and loop through the resort itself on the crit course. Fortunately, it loops back onto the route and shortly we are headed up Vail Pass once again. The trek up Vail Pass is normally a relatively easy one because it tops out at 10,560 ft. The climb from Copper is about 4 or 5 miles with only 800 ft. of elevation gain. However, that easy climb is usually on fresher legs! The bike trail up the pass is one of the most beautiful in all of the High Country, in my opinion. It climbs through meadows and wetlands covered in wildflowers, nestled between the lanes of I-70. The lanes are so far apart and so much higher than the trail that you can easily forget there is an interstate nearby. This day, with black clouds looming and on dead legs, it was more difficult than usual to enjoy the scenery. Lee had me ride ahead of him up the pass (he says he rides 3 mph faster following me than when I follow him!) and before I knew it I was at the steep, short switchbacks that signal we are almost at the top. A short trip through a tunnel under the eastbound lane of the interstate and out we popped onto the lower lot of the rest area. We circled around to the upper lot where the final aid station for the Triple Bypass was located and I stopped only long enough to call Michael and Carol Schimmer to let them know I had made all the climbs - and to let Carol know to come pick me up at the finish. (I was staying in Avon with Carol for the next couple days.) Ninety-five miles down, 25 to go, all downhill!
Lee and I took off on the bike trail to head down the very steep west side of Vail Pass. Zooming along, the skies kept getting darker and darker. I don't know how far it is down the west side when the trail ends and we rejoin old Rt. 6, but it was right at that point that the rain started once again. It poured and poured and poured all the rest of the way down to Avon. Lee and I flew. I don't know how fast we were going down the steep part of the pass but once we got down to Vail and from there to Avon (about 10 miles), my speed never dropped below 20 mph. and Lee said I was averaging 23 mph. We hammered, mainly because we were frozen and wet and wanted it to be over. At just under 7500 ft. in elevation, we dropped about 3000 ft. in 25 miles; just like the climb between Idaho Springs and Loveland Ski Area. It's easier going down, though scary in a downpour.
Carol met me and I couldn't wait to get to her house for a hot shower! The temperature in Avon when we arrived was 60 degrees. That's cold when you're soaking wet and traveling 23 mph. My feet felt like blocks of ice. Squishy ones.
The finish of the Triple Bypass is usually a big party complete with dinner and live music, prizes and beer. No one was staying because it was so wet and cold so the party was a bust this year. None of you will believe this, but I did NOT want a beer when I got there. The thought of something cold was completely unappealing. (However, after that hot shower...)
The organization of this event is amazing and as far as I can tell went off without a hitch. Since it is a point-to-point ride and not a loop, perks to the riders include trucking 3500 cyclists' gear bags from the start to the finish so they can have clothes to change into. The Colorado State Patrol, local police or volunteers from Team Evergreen (the sponsoring organization) manned every - and I mean every - intersection to ensure that no one got off course. Each cyclist had to wear a wrist band and periodically along the route bands were checked or you could not pass through. There were road closures in places (Squaw & Juniper Passes, Swan Mountain for example) and SAG wagons galore. I cannot imagine what it takes to put on an event such as this but they do a fabulous job.
I am amazed that I actually did this ride. Please bear with me because I think I will be talking about it for a long time. My biggest worry was the air pressure (or lack thereof). It was not an issue. I worked so hard on my deep breathing this spring that it paid off. My butt hurt - as it always does after about 75 miles - but it was not unbearable. My knees and feet were fine. The shoulder pain I usually have on long rides came and went but was no worse than it ever is. Final stats: 120 miles, 12.2 mph average (hey, there are a few big hills along the way!), high of 41.3 mph, 10,310 ft. of climbing, 9 hours, 43 minutes ride time.
Would I do it again? Let me think about that. I know now that I can do it, and to me that is most important.
Now to set the next goal...:)
On Thursday, July 9 Godiva, all packed in her case, and I boarded a Frontier Airlines jet in Washington, DC and headed west to Denver. Arriving at Lee's apartment around 11:30 a.m. MT, I unpacked the bike, put her together & then headed out through town to the Cherry Creek bike trail. I rode again twice on Friday in an effort to remind my legs that they had a job to do on Saturday. Amazingly, I felt great and ready to ride. I still had a touch of worry about completing the climbs - but not much. I was proud that I was pushing all the doubting demons aside.
My cell phone alarm was set for 5:15 a.m. Saturday. Lee and I got up, I ate a bowl of oatmeal (with bananas and almonds), drank some coffee and then loaded his car and headed to Bergen Park for the start of the ride. The plan was for me to start riding at 6:30 a.m. but we were running just a little behind (so what else is new!) and I think I actually took the first pedal stroke at 6:45 or so. Lee watched me take off and then he went to a local coffee shop for more caffeine and some breakfast. Even though he was giving me a 90-minute head start, I figured if his original description of the first climb was anywhere near accurate he would catch me as I labored toward the top. Ha! Not only did I make the top of the climb but I was at rest stop #2 (Georgetown) 40 miles into the ride before he caught me.
Saturday had dawned sunny and warm. I think the temperatures were in the upper 50's when I started riding. I used arm warmers but not my knee warmers and was perfectly comfortable. In my jersey pockets I stowed a jacket for the inevitable rain showers that afternoon (I was hoping, since I was prepared, that the sun would shine the entire time). The temperatures eventually got to the low 80's, I am guessing.
"Leave the parking lot and climb for a very long time" was correct, but the climb was nowhere near what I expected. I don't know exactly what the grade was but I would guess it ranged from 3% to 8%, maybe a little steeper in short sections but mostly not bad. Long is what it was - 14 miles to the top of Squaw Pass at 9,708 ft., followed by an all-too-brief downhill and then another climb to the top of Juniper Pass (11,140 ft.). Lee had told me that the ride is very social and it really was. It is easy to talk to folks when there are 3500 participants. Since I was riding solo I spoke to just about everyone who passed me (lots of young whipper-snappers!) and everyone I passed. NOTE: I actually passed people! I was amazed that I was passing folks but I was - and I certainly was not speedy. It felt good to know I was faster than others, especially since I had gambled on arriving just before the ride. Based on past experience I theorized that arriving a week or even 10 days ahead would not give me enough time to acclimate to the altitude, so why bother? Instead, I decided to arrive just before, attempt the ride and then enjoy the rest of my vacation. (The gamble worked - wonder if I can stretch my luck to include the lottery?)
Some conversations involved breathing (or the inability to do so - I passed one poor 30-something guy from Chicago who had arrived a week prior and still could not breathe. I never saw him the rest of the day so I have no idea if he made it or not.) and lots of conversations were of the "where are you from?" variety. Once, a man asked me that question & I found that he had lived in VA for some years and had graduated from UVa ('67). I told him to look at my socks - I was wearing my UVa cycling socks - Wahoowa! I also told him that Lee had graduated from The University as well & that he would be meeting me later. Other conversations involved gear and components. Lots of comments about Godiva's lovely pink hubs and at least one about her manufacturer. Interestingly, all comments about the pink hubs came from men. Wouldn't you think women would notice? Humph!
The first rest stop, just over the top of Juniper Pass, was a welcome sight! Having been warned to pack in the food at every opportunity and to drink constantly, I was ready to get some vittles and refill bottles. I had already consumed a 22 oz. bottle of Heed energy drink & another of plain water. I also ate some freshly baked mini-muffins, half a banana and a small Cliff bar. The first eighteen miles were done; 102 to go! Trying to be as efficient with my stops as possible, I hopped back on the bike and headed down, down, down, past Echo Lake (the entrance to Mt. Evans, one of Colorado's 14'ers and the location of the highest paved road in the country), down, down, down to the town of Idaho Springs.
Idaho Springs marked the beginning of what I consider the toughest part of the ride, not counting the weather later in the day. This mountain town, wedged between Mt. Evans and Oh-My-God Road (really!), and bisected by I-70, marked the beginning of a 25 mile mostly gradual climb to the foot of the next pass, Loveland. Looking at the scenery - steep mountainsides, abandoned mines, old Victorian houses and spotting wildflowers were a helpful diversion. To me, this was much more difficult than climbing an actual pass. The wind was beginning to pick up and was always a headwind because it was blowing down from the Continental Divide straight through this canyon-like split in the Rockies.
As we cycled through Idaho Springs, locals lined the street ringing cowbells and cheering us on, just like in the Tour de France! It was such fun and something we encountered all along the route. Occasionally we would pass some children with a lemonade stand for the riders - and they were giving away the lemonade! (Ahem...didn't see any popsicles though.) The slog up to Loveland started at a low of about 7500 ft. and ended at 10,600 ft. at the base of the pass. Gaining that 3000 ft. in 25 miles was a long, hot, sometimes steep process. The route mostly followed the frontage road (old Route 6), parallelled I-70, and included a 2-mile dirt section near the town of Georgetown.
Georgetown marked the second rest stop and when I arrived (40 miles in, 80 to go) I still had not seen Lee. I stopped, filled bottles, ate more, went to the bathroom and ran into the UVa graduate again. He asked if my son had caught me yet and I said no. He replied, "Good! I hope you stay ahead of him!" Not two minutes later I saw Lee. I was happy to see him and we rode mostly together for the rest of the ride. Leaving the rest stop and after the dirt section, the road turned steeply upward for a short distance, then dumped us onto a bike path that climbed up to the level of I-70 through a series of switchbacks. This 5-mile bike path was probably the steepest of the ride and I was happy when we dropped back down below the interstate onto the frontage road again. Eventually the route ran out of frontage road and the inevitable happened - we rode on the interstate! Yes, on I-70. Oh boy was I not looking forward to this section. Yet again the anticipation was nowhere near the reality. First of all, the paved shoulder is a full lane wide so there is lots of room. Second, CDOT had swept the shoulder as there was no debris, no rocks, nothing. The climb was significant but because the pavement was so good it was not a bad experience. I stayed as far to the right as possible because I am not crazy about hugging tractor-trailers. Lee stayed either just ahead of me or to my left. We exited I-70 at the Loveland Pass exit and stopped there for the lunch rest stop - mile 56 - 64 to go. Almost halfway!
Lee could tell I had been struggling the last few miles and at one point he opened a gel pack and handed it to me & told me to eat it. I sucked it down without stopping and then slugged some water. At the lunch stop I was definitely not hungry - a sure sign of bonk if I didn't eat - so I force-fed myself a turkey sandwich, some oranges and cookies. Lee sent me off ahead while he visited with some friends, telling me that he would catch me before I got to the top of Loveland Pass. Leaving the parking lot at the rest stop (the parking lot for Loveland Ski area), the route joins Rt. 6 to go over the pass. The entire climb is a series of long switchbacks but the grade is only about 5%. I zoom along on temporarily refreshed legs and before I know it, I am almost at the last turn of the last switchback and Lee has not appeared. Minutes later, here he comes and we top the Continental Divide together. Loveland was the ride's highest elevation at 11,990 ft. and marks the halfway point in the ride at 60 miles. The wind was blowing and it was chilly up there, especially since we were sweating from the climb so we did not stop but immediately started down the other side. From here on out I had ridden the route of the Triple many times - in pieces, not all at once. I was familiar with the roads and trails so I was not at all intimidated by what lay ahead, I was just tired!
The switchbacks on the west side of Loveland Pass are much tighter than the east so I spent a great deal of time standing above and behind the saddle and feathering the brakes. Meanwhile, Lee went zooming down around the turns and before long was so far ahead I could not see him any more. It's at those times that I pretend I have no idea who he is because if I think about being his mother he'll scare me to death! The road twists and turns past Arapaho Basin Ski Area and then straightens. At this point I let Godiva go and somewhere along here I hit my top speed of 41.3 mph. We zoom past Keystone Ski Resort and I rejoin Lee just before we get to the Keystone Market. He had told me that he wanted to stop there and have me drink a Coke. I did - he told me to "slam" it because a storm was brewing quickly. I drank it as quickly as possible while trying to avoid a carbonated explosion in my stomach. Three rather large, rather loud, rather un-ladylike belches later I felt great and could ride again. As we approached the stoplight at Swan Mountain Road the raindrops started. I briefly stopped right beside Lee's first house & put my rain jacket on. Putting the jacket on did the trick as we just felt a few drops and nothing more, though the clouds were heavy and dark. We climbed up and over Swan Mountain - it is only about 3 miles to the top and on the topo map of the route it looks like a little bump. My, how that little bump used to get the best of me when I first started riding in the Rockies! Up and over Swan Mtn. we went and down to the intersection at Farmer's Korner (elevation about 9100 ft.), site of a wreck I had in the rain on my mountain bike about nine years ago. It is at this point that the sugar from the Coke kicked in and I was feeling much better. We passed through the light and joined the bike trail to the town of Frisco. There was another rest stop located at Summit County High School right there at the light. Lee stopped but I kept going. I passed the town of Frisco on the bike trail and headed to Copper Mountain. Somewhere between Frisco and Copper the skies opened - the magic of the jacket seemed to have worn off. Not only was it raining hard but my shoes were filling with water! There was so much water coming down that the trail was covered by a fine layer of H2O that found its way into my shoes at each turn of the pedals. Oh yeah, and the temperature dropped considerably. Brrr! I thought it was a good thing I was continually climbing and generating some heat because it would have been really chilly had I been going downhill. I had no idea what was to come.
The downpour lasted probably ten minutes and then things began to dry up and I began to dry off (except for my feet). Lee and I met up once again just as I arrived at Copper Mountain (elevation 9712 ft.). Copper lies at the base of the third of the Triple Bypass passes - Vail Pass. I remember riding through the Copper Mountain Resort with Lee and saying, "I can do this!" It was the first time that I actually said it out loud. His response was, "F**k yeah you can do it, Mom!" One more climb. I was all psyched and ready to climb when Lee threw a monkey wrench into my thoughts. "Hey Mom, you want to see the crit (criterium) course here?" "Uh....sure....", I say. So off the route we go and loop through the resort itself on the crit course. Fortunately, it loops back onto the route and shortly we are headed up Vail Pass once again. The trek up Vail Pass is normally a relatively easy one because it tops out at 10,560 ft. The climb from Copper is about 4 or 5 miles with only 800 ft. of elevation gain. However, that easy climb is usually on fresher legs! The bike trail up the pass is one of the most beautiful in all of the High Country, in my opinion. It climbs through meadows and wetlands covered in wildflowers, nestled between the lanes of I-70. The lanes are so far apart and so much higher than the trail that you can easily forget there is an interstate nearby. This day, with black clouds looming and on dead legs, it was more difficult than usual to enjoy the scenery. Lee had me ride ahead of him up the pass (he says he rides 3 mph faster following me than when I follow him!) and before I knew it I was at the steep, short switchbacks that signal we are almost at the top. A short trip through a tunnel under the eastbound lane of the interstate and out we popped onto the lower lot of the rest area. We circled around to the upper lot where the final aid station for the Triple Bypass was located and I stopped only long enough to call Michael and Carol Schimmer to let them know I had made all the climbs - and to let Carol know to come pick me up at the finish. (I was staying in Avon with Carol for the next couple days.) Ninety-five miles down, 25 to go, all downhill!
Lee and I took off on the bike trail to head down the very steep west side of Vail Pass. Zooming along, the skies kept getting darker and darker. I don't know how far it is down the west side when the trail ends and we rejoin old Rt. 6, but it was right at that point that the rain started once again. It poured and poured and poured all the rest of the way down to Avon. Lee and I flew. I don't know how fast we were going down the steep part of the pass but once we got down to Vail and from there to Avon (about 10 miles), my speed never dropped below 20 mph. and Lee said I was averaging 23 mph. We hammered, mainly because we were frozen and wet and wanted it to be over. At just under 7500 ft. in elevation, we dropped about 3000 ft. in 25 miles; just like the climb between Idaho Springs and Loveland Ski Area. It's easier going down, though scary in a downpour.
Carol met me and I couldn't wait to get to her house for a hot shower! The temperature in Avon when we arrived was 60 degrees. That's cold when you're soaking wet and traveling 23 mph. My feet felt like blocks of ice. Squishy ones.
The finish of the Triple Bypass is usually a big party complete with dinner and live music, prizes and beer. No one was staying because it was so wet and cold so the party was a bust this year. None of you will believe this, but I did NOT want a beer when I got there. The thought of something cold was completely unappealing. (However, after that hot shower...)
The organization of this event is amazing and as far as I can tell went off without a hitch. Since it is a point-to-point ride and not a loop, perks to the riders include trucking 3500 cyclists' gear bags from the start to the finish so they can have clothes to change into. The Colorado State Patrol, local police or volunteers from Team Evergreen (the sponsoring organization) manned every - and I mean every - intersection to ensure that no one got off course. Each cyclist had to wear a wrist band and periodically along the route bands were checked or you could not pass through. There were road closures in places (Squaw & Juniper Passes, Swan Mountain for example) and SAG wagons galore. I cannot imagine what it takes to put on an event such as this but they do a fabulous job.
I am amazed that I actually did this ride. Please bear with me because I think I will be talking about it for a long time. My biggest worry was the air pressure (or lack thereof). It was not an issue. I worked so hard on my deep breathing this spring that it paid off. My butt hurt - as it always does after about 75 miles - but it was not unbearable. My knees and feet were fine. The shoulder pain I usually have on long rides came and went but was no worse than it ever is. Final stats: 120 miles, 12.2 mph average (hey, there are a few big hills along the way!), high of 41.3 mph, 10,310 ft. of climbing, 9 hours, 43 minutes ride time.
Would I do it again? Let me think about that. I know now that I can do it, and to me that is most important.
Now to set the next goal...:)
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Of obsessions
Oh my, has spring struggled to get a foothold in VA. Here we are smack dab in the middle of June, with summer just days away and it is still cool and rainy at times. Heck, I just looked at the forecast for this week and the temperatures may not hit 70 on Wednesday. The good news is we have pretty much recovered from the past years’ drought. The rivers are running high. The flowers, the trees, the grass….everything…..is a lush green. My flowers are blooming; the blueberry bushes are loaded almost to the ground with fat berries and the “deck garden” of tomatoes and peppers is doing fine. My only concern is that roots may start rotting because of the moisture. That and the weeds; they seem to be prospering from the extra rain as well.
And then there’s Bart. Bart is our neighborhood bear. He visited again last night. He doesn’t do much damage – just enough to let us know he has been there. For instance last night he pulled down the humming bird feeder & three of the regular feeders. I know he keeps stopping by to check the blueberries. I only hope I can get them before he does.
I am lucky that I have a “do it itself” garden because while I love gardening, my focus has not been on yard work at all this year. Last fall I set a personal goal and my “test” is now less than a month away. To prepare, my sweet Michael has patiently trudged along with me on each and every bike ride. We have put lots of miles under our pedals and have done little else on weekends. January through April was a blur of grabbing the bikes, tights, arm warmers, jackets, full-finger gloves and all the other assorted gear for chilly weather, then getting out on the road whenever the weather permitted. When the weather did not permit, trusty Godiva dutifully backed herself onto the trainer and we spun away in the bike room, iPod charged and earphones in my ears to distract me from the monotony.
May began a flurry of organized rides each weekend. What fun! The first weekend Michael and I drove to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for the second annual Terry Wild Goose Chase at Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in Cambridge. There we gathered with good friends Jeannie Tripp, John Baynes & Kathi Brown. Rain, drizzle & chilly temperatures set in for the weekend but did not dampen our spirits as we rode on the flatter-than-flat roads of the refuge. Michael and I rode 60 miles on Saturday. The Wild Goose Chase is a women’s only ride on Sunday. Michael volunteered to drive SAG for the day while we women rode our bikes. I put in another 63 miles on Sunday. The evenings were spent eating seafood (Jimmy & Sooks – great restaurant in Cambridge – I highly recommend the crabcakes!) and laughing with our buddies.
The next weekend was the Cap2Cap Century in Richmond. This annual fund-raiser for the Virginia Capital Trail Foundation is one of our favorite rides. Not as flat as the Eastern Shore, but almost! MadCyclists support this ride well with the ’09 crew consisting of Aden, Bates, Phil, Chris, Maria, Michael, Barry & myself. Check out the photos at www.virginiacapitaltrail.org . Caution: there are 500 photos on there – look at numbers 23, 308 & 309. The first photo has (front to back on the left side) Aden, Phil & Bates. The next is Barry & the last is Michael and me. I did not see photos of Chris & Maria – but that doesn’t mean they aren’t in there somewhere! If anyone finds them, please let me know the photo numbers. The Cap2Cap has simultaneous starts in both Richmond and Jamestown, with over 1000 cyclists participating. The route was fun and fast on the southbound leg but much slower due to a beastly headwind on the way back. Still, it was a fun 103+/- miles.
The weather has been iffy during the week since the beginning of May and weekday rides have been spotty at best. Still, whenever we can, a few of us hit the beautiful back roads of Madison and adjacent counties for 20 miles or so in the evening.
The other May rides were the Tour de Madison (record number of cyclists participating once again) and the Tour de Greene. Michael and I supplemented those rides with additional long-mileage rides on the weekends in an effort to get me ready for my July event. We have ridden a self-supported century (100 miles) on the Skyline Drive and about ten days ago rode a 70 mile loop consisting of a climb up Crabtree Falls to the Blue Ridge Parkway.
Last weekend was our third MS150, the Tour de Vine in Charlottesville. It is always such a fun weekend and a great celebration for all the hard work everyone has done to raise awareness of and funds for Multiple Sclerosis. This year’s MadCyclist team consisted of veterans Chris Franklin, Guy Kovner, Jeff Dillon, Michael & me with the addition of new members Kathi Brown and Doug Eden. Fund raising is difficult this year with everyone feeling the economic pinch, yet in spite of that we still had three team members recognized as top fund raisers at the Saturday night festivities: Chris, Kathi & Guy. Additionally, for the second year in a row, MadCyclists won the Tent Decorating Contest! Woohoo!
Friday night some of us gathered to set up the team tent on the grounds of Miller School. Dodging raindrops, we got the job done and then headed to Crozet for dinner. Michael and I snagged free digs just down the road from Miller School (thank you Craig!!) and avoided the long drive each way. It is a good thing we were so close considering we forgot something BOTH MORNINGS and had to go back to retrieve it. The cap on the whole forget-your-head weekend was leaving our pillows behind when we left for home on Sunday. Showing yet again what a wonderful friend she is, Kathi graciously delivered them to Lowe’s in Ruckersville yesterday in time for Michael to bring them home.
We rode 77 miles on Saturday over some challenging terrain and also over some of our favorite roads in the Albemarle/Greene area. Some notes on the ride:
>Kathi hit a personal best with the mileage!
>The weather was cloudy and very humid but as Chris noted, it was 30 degrees cooler than last year.
>The traffic in Earlysville and on Garth road is not very cycling friendly
>Two miles @ 17 mph of the strangest paceline ever, in this order: cyclist, huge John Deere tractor, truck with blinking lights, car, car, Chris, Michael & I. Too funny!
>The “warm-up” hill on Tillman Rd. was not that bad
>Peacock Hill at mile 70 was an ass kicker
>Climbing back up the road to Miller School is not all that bad – after climbing Peacock Hill!
>I felt bad for anyone left out on the road when the downpour hit.
Sunday we rode 75 miles over even more challenging roads in Albemarle & Nelson Counties. Michael and I were on our own because Kathi opted to ride 25 miles and Guy and Doug had taken off at 6:30. Jeff had gone to Richmond and Chris was down for the count with a bad knee.
The day dawned sunny and bright with much less humidity. It was a perfect day to be out on the bike. We left later on Sunday – closer to 8 a.m. – and headed to Crozet, just as the day before. This time we turned onto Jarman’s Gap Rd. and began an uphill trek. Just as we got to the hairpin turn where the road goes up, up, up, one of the support motorcycles came up behind us with his CD player turned up loud, playing “Calling Baton Rouge” by Newgrass Revival. Great climbing music! I stood and pedaled to the beat and made it up that hill in no time. We made our way out to Rt. 250 at Greenwood and turned right. “Oh dear,” I thought, “We are really close to Afton Mountain. We must be turning onto Rt. 151.” Nope. We passed 151. We passed Rockfish Outfitters on the right…and then turned left onto Rt. 750, Old Turnpike Rd. I had never been on this road before. We were clearly going up, but fairly gradually for probably the first mile. At first I thought this road might loop back to Rt. 151 but we kept turning toward the right instead of the left….which meant that we were heading higher on Afton Mountain. Soon the road turned to short, very steep switchbacks. After several (I can’t remember how many – 3? 4?), we topped out onto Rt. 6 just uphill (upmountain?) from the town of Afton, home of the Cookie Lady http://www.vabike.org/afton-cookie-lady-receives-gift-from-raba/ . We turned left onto Afton Mtn. Rd. (Rt. 6) and began the fun, if scary-on-the-switchbacks, hurtle back down the mountain. Michael & I were in a group of about six and all of us were having such a good time that we all missed the turn to the right off Rt. 6. Not to worry, the route continued just a bit down Rt. 151 so we went that way instead of climbing back up Rt. 6 to the turn. We rejoined the route & continued to have a fun day.
There were many, many other hills to conquer. The entire route seemed to either be up or down (mostly up :). Fortunately the scenery was some of the most beautiful I have ever seen which took a bit of the pain away. Finally we arrived back in Batesville (our second trip through) and turned right onto Miller School Rd. We climbed that hill, zoomed down the other side and under the banner at the gate to the school. Michael, Guy and I finished at the same time. It was a perfect finish to another fun MS150.
I mentioned my personal goal a couple times. Here it is: http://www.teamevergreen.org/node/2 .
Completing a bike ride of 120 miles (in one day) over three mountain passes in the Rockies is going to be a huge undertaking for me. Physically, I feel like I am ready – at least my legs, back, arms, etc. are ready. The bike is ready. My lungs are not and there is no way (available and affordable to me) to get them ready. That will be the big test. I am at the point now where I wish I could get out there and get it done! I am ready, doggonnit, so let’s get going! Michael has been a hero through this because he has not complained a bit. Well, maybe just a little bit. He is entitled. All our other cycling buddies have been patient as well. I have been focused, some probably say obsessed, but through it all they have ridden with me and continue to give me the emotional support I know I will need. Not to worry, gang, it’ll all be over in 25 days.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Bates's New Great Adventure or...
...Why Do All His Rides Involve Getting Wet??
(Bates sent this post through the MadCyclists' group but I thought it worthy of publishing here, so I copied & pasted. Great story - now I want a CX bike! Enjoy! -jane)
I finally assembled my cyclocross bike, and took it out for a shake down late this morning.
The nearly smooth tires I chose are both fat and light, 700-32s, and don't be fooled, they roll real easy. I had previously tried normal cyclocross tires, read MudGrips... mudgrips do not roll on pavement worth a hoot.
Anyway, off I went, I rolled up Hebron Valley to Haywood, took a right on Hoover Rd, then a left onto Duet road. The bike was feeling great, all new to me especially with these easy rolling 'fattys'. Duet road is paved for about a mile and a half, and has a rather steep downhill. Bike was feeling good, tracks great, I let'er go on the hill. No spedo as yet, but I'd say I rounded the corner at the bottom around 35... Solid as a rock, downright confidence inspiring. I turned right onto Whipporwill Road, and went over the mountain to Etlan, refilled my H2O botttles, and fed my pie hole a Snickers and off I went, back up the hill I had come from from Etlan, but took a left onto Hughs River Rd, took that down to Pophams Ford Rd. You have probably never been on Pophams Ford rd... It is an old county rd, and it is cobblestone, well actually smooth river rocks, and they don't call it a 'ford' for nothing, actually there are two fords. I approached the first ford, a little one about 10 feet across, I didn't even stop, plunged in, crossed without even getting my shoes damp.... Nothing to it...The second ford goes over (through) the Hughes River, about 25 feet across, as I said, Nothing to it.... Until I hit the bolder mid stream, and then dearly wished I wasn't clipped in. OK so now I have very wet feet, but I remained upright. Oh well 'In for a pound' forge ahead.
At the end of Pophams Ford I met a locked gate with a paved road on the other side, locked?? Oh well, throw the bike over, climb over and on my way. Cool little stretch of road, old farm houses, well restored, I am obviously in Rappahannock!
Up the hill to Slate Mills RD.. I made it to my goal, now how the hell do I get home.
Hang a right onto Slate Mills rd. and go until I see some road on the right that looks like it goes to our Novum Loop and comes out up on Arrington Mtn.
I passed Major brown Rd, and took the next right on Green Rd which turned to dirt, and then intersected with Major Green Rd.. Oh well. Dirt road, up, up ,up... Then down down down, in the woods, repeat.
I was wondering whether I was on the right road, in the woods I couldn't see the mountains for bearing. So top of a hill (mountain) I whip out the rider's helper (cell phone) and call Aden. It seems Phones don't work wherever I am. Oh well, it's a pretty day, pedal on....
Up the road maybe 1 mile, the phone rings, it's Aden's friendly voice, just about as I see a sign saying I'm back in Madison, Aden consulted GoogleMaps, and verified if I go straight, I was in fact on 604, the road to Arrington Mtn. Thank goodness I wouldn't die of starvation out in the woods.
Rest of the ride went as if I planned it. Back home before the wind got whipping.
Test Ride was a huge success, CX bike with its long wheelbase, and slick geometry, coupled with fat smooth tires is an absolute Hoot, way better than I expected. Dirt roads are a whole new world... I saw 3 cars on the dirt sections, two of the cars were the same mailman who I passed twice.
(Bates sent this post through the MadCyclists' group but I thought it worthy of publishing here, so I copied & pasted. Great story - now I want a CX bike! Enjoy! -jane)
I finally assembled my cyclocross bike, and took it out for a shake down late this morning.
The nearly smooth tires I chose are both fat and light, 700-32s, and don't be fooled, they roll real easy. I had previously tried normal cyclocross tires, read MudGrips... mudgrips do not roll on pavement worth a hoot.
Anyway, off I went, I rolled up Hebron Valley to Haywood, took a right on Hoover Rd, then a left onto Duet road. The bike was feeling great, all new to me especially with these easy rolling 'fattys'. Duet road is paved for about a mile and a half, and has a rather steep downhill. Bike was feeling good, tracks great, I let'er go on the hill. No spedo as yet, but I'd say I rounded the corner at the bottom around 35... Solid as a rock, downright confidence inspiring. I turned right onto Whipporwill Road, and went over the mountain to Etlan, refilled my H2O botttles, and fed my pie hole a Snickers and off I went, back up the hill I had come from from Etlan, but took a left onto Hughs River Rd, took that down to Pophams Ford Rd. You have probably never been on Pophams Ford rd... It is an old county rd, and it is cobblestone, well actually smooth river rocks, and they don't call it a 'ford' for nothing, actually there are two fords. I approached the first ford, a little one about 10 feet across, I didn't even stop, plunged in, crossed without even getting my shoes damp.... Nothing to it...The second ford goes over (through) the Hughes River, about 25 feet across, as I said, Nothing to it.... Until I hit the bolder mid stream, and then dearly wished I wasn't clipped in. OK so now I have very wet feet, but I remained upright. Oh well 'In for a pound' forge ahead.
At the end of Pophams Ford I met a locked gate with a paved road on the other side, locked?? Oh well, throw the bike over, climb over and on my way. Cool little stretch of road, old farm houses, well restored, I am obviously in Rappahannock!
Up the hill to Slate Mills RD.. I made it to my goal, now how the hell do I get home.
Hang a right onto Slate Mills rd. and go until I see some road on the right that looks like it goes to our Novum Loop and comes out up on Arrington Mtn.
I passed Major brown Rd, and took the next right on Green Rd which turned to dirt, and then intersected with Major Green Rd.. Oh well. Dirt road, up, up ,up... Then down down down, in the woods, repeat.
I was wondering whether I was on the right road, in the woods I couldn't see the mountains for bearing. So top of a hill (mountain) I whip out the rider's helper (cell phone) and call Aden. It seems Phones don't work wherever I am. Oh well, it's a pretty day, pedal on....
Up the road maybe 1 mile, the phone rings, it's Aden's friendly voice, just about as I see a sign saying I'm back in Madison, Aden consulted GoogleMaps, and verified if I go straight, I was in fact on 604, the road to Arrington Mtn. Thank goodness I wouldn't die of starvation out in the woods.
Rest of the ride went as if I planned it. Back home before the wind got whipping.
Test Ride was a huge success, CX bike with its long wheelbase, and slick geometry, coupled with fat smooth tires is an absolute Hoot, way better than I expected. Dirt roads are a whole new world... I saw 3 cars on the dirt sections, two of the cars were the same mailman who I passed twice.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tidal Rhythms...
Yes, it's been very quiet of late. Winter is a season of slumber and introspection (unless you're a skier). But without the serene beauty of snow-covered hills (accompanied by a crackling fire, a hot toddy and a warm heart--two, if you're lucky...), we wouldn't even notice the arrival of springtime. Can you tell I grew up in California?
It's all about balance--the ebb and flow of life.
It's been a wicked wild winter for Yours Truly (I love alliteration!). I am a seeker, a spirit in motion, and I learned several Life Lessons during this, my first "off season." I piloted a heavily-laden U-Haul truck over the Rockies in late December ("Kidz, don't try this at home..."), cast the demons out of my beloved titanium road warrior (under the tutelage of Bates McLain, brother Celt and Master Velo Exorcist), and lived to tell about it. We unraveled the mystery that had the Campy "experts" stumped, and somewhere Tulio Campagnolo is nodding and smiling benignly. If you want to hear "the rest of the story" (and as all my friends can attest, I am nothing if not a storyteller), you'll have to buy me a pint. Money well spent, I can assure you: "There I was ..."
Warmer days are just around the corner and we'll all be out there eatin' up the tarmac and getting fitter by the day. And we'll all have plenty to blog about soon enough. So many potential crashes, so little time! (I'm just yankin' yer chain.)
See you on the road...
It's all about balance--the ebb and flow of life.
It's been a wicked wild winter for Yours Truly (I love alliteration!). I am a seeker, a spirit in motion, and I learned several Life Lessons during this, my first "off season." I piloted a heavily-laden U-Haul truck over the Rockies in late December ("Kidz, don't try this at home..."), cast the demons out of my beloved titanium road warrior (under the tutelage of Bates McLain, brother Celt and Master Velo Exorcist), and lived to tell about it. We unraveled the mystery that had the Campy "experts" stumped, and somewhere Tulio Campagnolo is nodding and smiling benignly. If you want to hear "the rest of the story" (and as all my friends can attest, I am nothing if not a storyteller), you'll have to buy me a pint. Money well spent, I can assure you: "There I was ..."
Warmer days are just around the corner and we'll all be out there eatin' up the tarmac and getting fitter by the day. And we'll all have plenty to blog about soon enough. So many potential crashes, so little time! (I'm just yankin' yer chain.)
See you on the road...
Friday, January 30, 2009
humph!
****SIGH**** I wish someone else would post to this blog....or tell me they are not interested. Pish!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Love/Hate Relationships
I love my bike. The feeling of the pedals eating up the ground under me as I tootle along country roads, the sounds of nature, the air in my lungs as I gasp whenever I climb a hill - it's all good.
I hate winter. The more I love my bike the more I hate winter. It's cold. It's brown. This winter has been especially hard for me because it has been just a bit too chilly to really enjoy cycling outside.
I love my trainer. Sort of. I can at least get on the bike and pretend I am out riding.
I hate intervals. They really hurt. But I can tell I am getting stronger - if only by teeny tiny increments.
I love my ipod. It is at least a little distraction to the monotony of said trainer.
I hate mean people. The ones who rob us of everything from possessions to happiness to security.
I love longer days. They give me hope.
I hate it that winter still has two months to go.
I love Arizona in the winter. Uh oh. That sounds way too much like a snowbird. But the high plateau of southeastern AZ in winter is warm-ish during the day and cold at night. Perfect. BTW, it's not all that hot in the summer either - at least, not Phoenix-hot. (And....well...it's a dry heat:)
I hate laziness - that disease that infects folks who won't get up off their chairs and DO SOMETHING to make themselves healthier; those who continually complain about aches & pains and not feeling good. You know who I am talking about - people who consider a Super Bowl party or watching NASCAR on TV a workout.
I love running. Never thought I'd say that. I have never been a runner. Not that I am much of one now, but a good 3 - 4 miles at a time is wonderful. Ditto all the positives I said about cycling, without the pedals.
I hate trash on the side of the road. Why can't people leave it in the car until they get home, then put it in a trash can?
I love a day off - even if it has to snow to get one.
I hate getting behind when I have a day off.
I love the way I feel right now - I have worked hard to get here and I intend to stay here for a very, very long time. Losing 25 lb. is not easy, but it sure is rewarding. I'm much stronger and I feel so much better - and I get to throw all my "fat clothes" away!
I have a little sign in my car that says "play everyday". I intend to. What about you?
I hate winter. The more I love my bike the more I hate winter. It's cold. It's brown. This winter has been especially hard for me because it has been just a bit too chilly to really enjoy cycling outside.
I love my trainer. Sort of. I can at least get on the bike and pretend I am out riding.
I hate intervals. They really hurt. But I can tell I am getting stronger - if only by teeny tiny increments.
I love my ipod. It is at least a little distraction to the monotony of said trainer.
I hate mean people. The ones who rob us of everything from possessions to happiness to security.
I love longer days. They give me hope.
I hate it that winter still has two months to go.
I love Arizona in the winter. Uh oh. That sounds way too much like a snowbird. But the high plateau of southeastern AZ in winter is warm-ish during the day and cold at night. Perfect. BTW, it's not all that hot in the summer either - at least, not Phoenix-hot. (And....well...it's a dry heat:)
I hate laziness - that disease that infects folks who won't get up off their chairs and DO SOMETHING to make themselves healthier; those who continually complain about aches & pains and not feeling good. You know who I am talking about - people who consider a Super Bowl party or watching NASCAR on TV a workout.
I love running. Never thought I'd say that. I have never been a runner. Not that I am much of one now, but a good 3 - 4 miles at a time is wonderful. Ditto all the positives I said about cycling, without the pedals.
I hate trash on the side of the road. Why can't people leave it in the car until they get home, then put it in a trash can?
I love a day off - even if it has to snow to get one.
I hate getting behind when I have a day off.
I love the way I feel right now - I have worked hard to get here and I intend to stay here for a very, very long time. Losing 25 lb. is not easy, but it sure is rewarding. I'm much stronger and I feel so much better - and I get to throw all my "fat clothes" away!
I have a little sign in my car that says "play everyday". I intend to. What about you?
Monday, January 5, 2009
Winter.
As a cyclist I'm not a big fan of winter. As a skiier, I love snow. But there's nothing good about snow in denver, or cold weather for that matter. No road rides since sometime in December, and tons of trainer time. That doesn't make for very good ride reports, but I figured I would post something and at least remind everyone: Spring will come!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
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 ;-)
Monday, December 22, 2008
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!
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!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, September 12, 2008
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???
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???
Saturday, August 23, 2008
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!
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!
Friday, August 22, 2008
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.
[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.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
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!
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!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
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