Adventures on a Bike

I rode with the Team Climb On! boys today. I haven’t ridden with that group for awhile and it was good to see Andy, Firger and Chris again. After my bonk coming home from Julian, I was ready for some easier miles and these guys were happy to oblige.

We headed up the coast from UCSD under June-gloom skies, typical for San Diego this time of year. By the time we turned inland at Carlsbad it was clearing and was a gorgeous day as we came past Lake Hodges.

While climbing the three sisters in Fairbanks Ranch, a cyclist passed us. Andy was leading and he instinctively jumped on the rider’s wheel. I groaned, but followed. The rider saw us jump and increased the tempo. Andy was began to feel it and pulled to the side and waved me past. I got on the guy’s wheel and paced him up, with him looking back at me every once in awhile. Rather than be unsociable, I rode up beside him and made a comment about his Ironman jersey (ps - those Ironman guys are amazing, ride 100 mile, run a marathon all after a good 2 mile swim? Yikes!). Anyways, the conversation got him to ease up a bit (thank goodness) and he asked me, “Guess where I was last weekend?”. I kinda knew what would be next and asked, “Where?”. He answered, “Climbing Mount Ventoux!”. Kick ass! So I ask, “Guess where I’ll be in 2 months?… Climbing Alpe d’Huez and the Col du Galibier!” Needless to say this started us down a whole new path of conversation. He had gone with a tour company, similar to mine and had a fantastic experience with a big group of friends. Said it was a trip of a lifetime. I can’t wait for my trip

I said goodbye at the top of the three sisters and sat up for Andy, Firger and Chris. From my spot on top I could see Mt. Woodson, Black Mountain, the Del Mar Fairgrounds and the ocean. Life really sucks

Chris was starting to feel the burn - this would become his longest bike ride ever (congrats!) and Firger had a mechanical where he had to stay in the 53 chainring. No worries, it’s all downhill from here. We pootled our way back, enjoying the day. Here’s the elevation profile, not bad for an easy day.

To top the day off, Andy and I met his fam at Pizza Port for some tasty grub and grog. (I really need to get them on as an official sponsor of Team Climb On!) After a few slices of pepperoni/jalapeno pizza and a pint of tasty ale, I was more than ready for my nap. And hey, I should quit writing now and go take my nap

I love Jill’s Up in Alaska blog for both the great writing and excellent pictures. Today she hit it out of the park with Oh, the places we’ll ride.

I gotta get to Alaska.

After last weekend’s duo of short and sporty rides, I was ready to go long and get some elevation. I headed to Julian under clear skies and warm weather (finally!).

I honestly felt really good and thought I might even add some bonus elevation on the way back (HVR!). When I stopped to take that last picture, I realized I was riding with a 5-10 mph tailwind, which would become a headwind on the way back. No bother, it’s all downhill from Julian, right?

I flew through Ramona and felt good climbing Old Julian Hwy, remembering where I bonked so severely two weeks ago with Mike. The couple of rises on the way to Santa Ysabel were not much trouble either. Pretty soon, I was looking down at Santa Ysabel and up at the hills in which Julian resides.

My legs started getting sore climbing into Wynola but soon I was on Wynola Road headed to Julian, one of the most beautiful climbing roads in San Diego County. It’s a heck of a great descent too, which is a bonus.

You’ll notice that there’s a great picture of Wynola (click to zoom), that’s because my legs started hurting bad enough that it seemed like a good idea to stop and snap a pic. It’s for the blog, right?

Finally, I was at the top and making my way into town. Legs still hurt. Maybe what I needed was some pie and coffee. Caffeine is supposed to be good for endurance sports.

I really wasn’t that hungry, but I ate the pie and it was good. The coffee was good too. I stretched a bit and hoped that since it’s basically all downhill from Julian, I’d be ok. Last Monday and Saturday were both really hard days and I was beginning to wonder if I needed a bit more rest.

The descent down Wynola was fantastic. I’m starting to get good at this descending thing. The key is to learn how to lean properly (knees in, thank you) and use the apex of each corner. I zoomed back down to Santa Ysabel and was then on the rolling section back to Old Julian Hwy.

I could tell that I had climbed into what Phil Liggett calls the “House of Pain”. My legs were on the verge of being utterly trashed and it was only the fact that I was descending that was keeping me from a full-tilt bonk. Once I hit the flats of Dye Rd, the real pain settled in. It felt like my legs were on fire and actually began to hurt more resting than it does to spin. I began to feel generally uncomfortable on the bike and no amount of stretching or position adjustment could get it right. I also began to feel naustious and had to force myself to choke down the GU that I knew would get me home.

I started telling myself that pain is imaginary. It’s all in our heads, right? It’s a “feeling”. You can’t fill a bowl with pain, so it must not actually exist. This all started to make some sense in my pain-induced delusions. I focused on just making it to the next little milestone - bottom of Ramona climb, top of Ramona, Poway Rd, Scripps-Poway Pkwy, etc. It sucked. For well over an hour, I just suffered, suffered, suffered. I could have stopped and called Romy for a pickup but (as Lance says) pain is temporary and quitting is forever. I just kept pedalling, saying, “pain is imaginary!”, sometimes out loud.

I’m a little embarrassed to tell you about the next part, I don’t really understand what happened myself. But in the spirit of being honest in these pages, here it is - please be kind. I began climbing the last hill to my house - Pomerado Road. It’s steep, like 7-8%, but short, maybe 0.75 mile. I shifted all the way down to 34×27 (I have a new compact crank) and settled in for a slow spin to the top.

That’s when “Hard Sun” by Eddie Vedder came on the iPod. Now, I’ve seen the movie, “Into the Wild” and loved it (and the book), but otherwise I have no real emotional connection to this song. But as it started playing, I all of a sudden began to get VERY emotional. I actually started doing that pre-crying thing that guys do and I also began to feel very, very pissed off. I think I actually said “F*%& this!” out loud and that’s when I started shifting into higher and higher gears. Up one, two, three gears. Out of the saddle, up 2 more. “F*%& this hill! F*%& the pain! I won’t stop! You can’t make me! F*%& you!” I’m crying and pissed and racing up this hill maybe as fast as I ever have. I look down at my HRM and my pulse is at 98% max. I haven’t been able to get it above 85% for the last 20+ miles, now I’m maxing out. Here’s a chart of elevation and my heart-rate. You can see the bonk and my “moment” clearly.

I crested the hill and pedaled the last 0.25 mile into my garage. I still have no idea what happened. I guess it was a Big Hard Sun.

Some backgroung info: The points leader in the Giro d’Italia wears the Maglia Ciclamino (mauve jersey). You get to be the points leader by out-sprinting the other fast men of the peloton for stage wins and intermediate points.

The plan was for the Descenders to have a pootle on Monday after having hit it pretty hard the previous Saturday. I hooked up with the boys early on a very beautiful and slightly chilly Memorial Day.

To make it a little more interesting, I introduced the guys to the concept of sprinting for town signs. What you do is sprint out for town signs along the way and the first person across the line gets a “point”. Since it’s Giro season, I called them Ciclamino points. It’s a fun way to add a little excitement to a ride and it’s also a great training technique, adding intervals to your pootle rides. Everyone agreed and we were off.

The first sign was entering Rancho Santa Fe. I noticed it when Guido went screaming past me so I jumped on his wheel and passed him a little too early for the actual sign, at which point Jim goes screaming around me for the point. Wow, that guy was fast. The funny thing was that I was the only one who actually saw the sign, everyone else was just having fun. I really have no business sprinting for anything other than another beer from the fridge, but it is very fun.

I think the next sign was for Carlsbad. Jim noticed this one and we went for it and he got it. That boy is fast…

The Leukadia sign was just after turning left onto Hwy 101. I didn’t tell anyone about it and nabbed it with everyone else wondering where I was going. Ok, that was less than fun so I decided to tell them about all future signs just to make it more interesting.

I was really amped up for the Solana Beach sign - it’s about 2/3 the way up a slight hill out of the San Elijo lagoon. I tried to talk Rob into leading me out, but he was not convinced. Crossing the lagoon, I attacked early and gained a nice 30m gap on the group but Jim turned on the gas and closed it back down. As soon as I saw him coming across I slowed down and waited. I put him on the front and congratulated him for catching me. My sneaky plan was to have him lead me out and I’d nab the sign with fresh legs at the end - I learned this valuable lesson from Mark, btw. I waited for him to go and gave it full gas to pass him at the last moment, but it just wasn’t enough. I did everything perfectly and was still almost a whole bike length in arrears. Like I said before, he’s fast!

The Del Mar sign is maybe 30 feet past a light that is always red. It’s all about gear choice and being able to spin it really fast. You pick a gear low enough that you can give it immediate power from the start, but high enough that you can keep increasing speed as you accelerate. You can’t shift, it’s just too short. I managed to win this sign (fair and square) by about 2 centimeters. This was the last town sign of the day and Jim earned his Maglia Ciclomino - I hope at least his legs were sore (mine were!).

Rob wanted to do Torrey Pines (inside the park, of course - is there another way?) and I was happy to oblige. It’s one of my favorite hills. For some reason, I started the hill in the back of the group - I need to give my position more thought. I powered past everyone but Rob who was on the front, looking strong. I got within 10 meters but he hung tough up the long straightaway. I thought he might rest at the curve and tried to gain a few yards, but no use - he powered on. It became clear that if I wanted the KOM points (no one had said anything about KOM points, btw) this was going to require something extra. With the Maglia Verde in mind, I went full gas and passed Rob just before it flattened out. At the stop sign, I slowed to wait for Rob (and breathe!). Rob went right past me and it I realized he was going all the way to the golf course. Now I had another gap to close down! It turned out later that Voris had suggested to Rob to gap me and make me chase in an attempt to crack me - what am I going to do with these guys?. I had no other choice but to go full gas again and barely made it to the traffic light before Rob.

We regrouped and headed back down the hill, on our way home. I put in a little dig climbing out of the lagoon and Voris chased - I have a rule, I have to attack on that bridge. I always do and it almost never makes sense. But there you go.

Everyone was still feeling a bit sparky on the way back and there were plenty of breakaways to chase down. My legs were starting to feel it a bit. At one point I got dropped after loudly declaring the under-bridge path clear of water - it had a foot or more flowing over the path and everyone (well, mostly Voris) took off while I was staring dumbly at the water. I chased and chased without catching him. Nice one, yeah, I deserved that.

We got in a paceline for the last long stretch of the SR-56 bike trail. Jim went first and really rocketed up the tempo. Then Rob goes balls-out and I’m on the back wondering how I’m going to pull through. Voris kept the tempo really high and then I’m in the wind. I did what I could and retreated back to the safety of the slipstream. We went like this as the group whittled it’s way down to just me and Voris. Btw, it sucks when you come off the front and think there are 4 people in the paceline but there are only 3. It creates an “oh shit” moment where you end up chasing for the back of the group when you’d much rather be resting.

So it’s me and Voris and he’s pulling really hard. He comes off the front and at first, I can’t come through. I begin to wonder if this is really an attack, but figure not since Voris had stayed out of all the previous ciclomino shenanigans. I give it everything I have to do a respectable pull and Voris attacks. He comes out like a rocket to my far left (same move he did on Wynola Road. btw) and left me there wondering what to do next. Well, there was only one thing I could do - watch him go. I had nothing more to give.

So that’s how the Descenders take a pootle. I have to say it was one of the funnest days on a bike in a long time. Thanks guys - looking forward to the next ride!

Elevation chart if you’re interested. Click to zoom.

A month farther into summer and for some reason the weather forecast is calling for cold, wind and rain. Luckily, I’ve had a birthday since I last attempted to buy cold-weather gear so now I’m fully equipped thanks to my generous friends and family.

The plan was for the Descenders to ride Mt. Palomar three times in preparation for our Monster Climbs trip which is just two weeks away. But with the weather chilly, climbing to 5,240 ft didn’t seem all that smart of a move. Instead, we mapped out a course closer to home that still managed to afford some elevation. Here’s the elevation profile (click to enlarge)

Those who’ve ridden with me can guess that I went off the front on the first climb of the day (Poway Rd). I have a hard time holding back. The rest of the team (there were 8 of us) let me go and I rode a steady, even tempo to the top. I stopped at the bottom of the second climb up Scripps-Poway Pkwy to remove my jacket and ended up way behind the group. I tapped out a quick rhythm though and managed to summit third with Rob, but predictably behind Voris and Rick (who are the group’s “Supermen”). Rob and I chased for awhile on the descent into Lakeside but used an early turnaround to catch the supermen. As the climb began, I fixated on Voris’s back wheel and promised myself that I wouldn’t let go.

It’s around four miles of climbing on Hwy 67 out of Lakeside and I must have been popped at about the halfway point. All it took was a minor (and probably unintentional) acceleration and I was gapped. I tried to fight back and did, but then did not have the power to stay with them and went right back off. Rob soon closed whatever gap there was between us and we finished the climb together.

After regrouping, a water refill and time for Guido to change a flat, we headed down Highland Valley Road - one of my favorite descents and climbs in San Diego County. It’s a twisty, pitchy climb that gains around 1,500 ft with some sections as steep as 18%. I was last on the descent (just wasn’t feeling it) but made sure to lock onto Voris’s wheel when we started back up.

Rick took off on the early, steep turns, passing Voris and I at nearly twice our speed. I think Dave’s remark was that there was no one in San Diego County who could compete with that kind of climbing and I think he’s probably right. Rick waited for us about halfway up the climb and I’m guessing it was just because he’d rather ride with other people than alone.

I focused on keeping up with Voris as the climb went on. Climbing like this sometimes seems more mental than physical. I’m 100% focused on staying with Dave and alternate between telling myself that I can do it and despairing that I’m about to go off the back. Of course, Dave was hurting too, but it’s hard to tell and you imagine that he’s climbing at around 50% while I was at 99%. At one point, I looked up the road and it was steep where I thought it would be flat and my legs stopped pedalling (they gave up without permission). A little gap opened and I saw myself climbing sadly alone saying “I almost kept up…” That’s all I needed to motivate myself to close the gap and hang on just a little longer. I’m very proud that I managed to hang on to the top and when Voris turned around to go back down for the others, I went with him (there was an agreement that the second semi-ascent had no KOM points associated with it - thank god!).

It was a beautiful day - the weather had stayed nice, but cold and a little breezy at times. Heading back into town from HVR earned us some sprinkles, but not enough to wet the ground. The group split up on our various paths home and Rick, Voris and I set a really smooth paceline back to Scripps Ranch. Hey Mark, it was really cool how we all shared the pacemaking in a smooth, well-run paceline (I gotta give Mark some crap cause he always lets me take the wind at times like this).

As usual, my final climb of the day is Pomerado Rd and this time Voris and Rick wanted to come with to get some extra elevation. We started the climb nice and slow so I went to the front to kick up the tempo a bit. This is my home-turf climb and I know all the nuances. Of course, I’m up there gutting it out and the boys are behind me chatting about a patio or something - sure gives you confidence in your form. I measured out where I should sprint for the top and gave it everything I had to drop them in the last few meters. Thankfully, the light at the top was red so I got to stop early or else I think my legs may have given out. We said our goodbyes, the guys took a right at the light, and I headed the final bit home.

It was a great day in the saddle made even more fun by the competition in my own head. It’s not like we were really racing, but pushing yourself and riding with people stronger than you is a really fun way to get strong yourself. I would not have pushed so hard up HVR if I had been by myself, that’s for sure. So thanks guys!

Some notes about my new cold-weather gear:

• Love the full-sleeve jacket, it’s very warm (Pearl Izumi’s lightest weight shell). I get to the top of a climb drenched in sweat, put on the jacket and keep myself from freezing up on the descent. Absolutely critical on a cold day.
• Have been skeptical of how leg warmers would feel while pedaling, now I love them. They make a huge difference on the descents. My legs felt warm all day.
• I worried that full-fingered gloves would be uncomfortable and it was a bit more difficult to rifle around for GU (loss of sensitivity) but having warm fingers more than makes up for that.
• I got one of those beanie things for my head and it was great on the initial descent to Dave’s house at 6:45am, but once I warmed up it was too hot. Maybe if it was colder or raining.
• Don’t have shoe covers and have to admit that my tootsies were a little chilly.

And by the way. It’s freaking MAY ALREADY! Enough with the sub-60F weather, alright? Isn’t this why we pay “sunshine tax” in the first place?

I rode my bike to Torrey Pines State Park today with the intention of doing 5 repeats up the hill (inside the park) and to break my personal record on the first ascent. It’s kind of fun declaring to yourself that you’re going to break a PR. Like a Babe Ruth moment - pointing to the center field bleachers.

I was pretty psyched starting up the first time. There is a small kiosk at the entrance where cars have to pay to park and they’ve installed a really sharp speed bump, I guess to stop cyclists like myself from building momentum in preparation of the climb and zooming past the kiosk at 22mph. Oh well, that’s why bunny-hopping was invented.

I sped around the two curves at the bottom like a madman in an impossibly high gear and spotted another cyclist on the straightaway. It was perfect, now I was assured of breaking my record - I had a rabbit to chase!

I put an angry look on my face and began to chase my rabbit in earnest. I’ve found that I climb much faster when I look all pissed off - like my expression actually makes me angry and I push harder. Anyway, I look down and my HRM is pegged at 100% - I guess my max HR is a little higher than 180…

I catch my rabbit quickly, maybe halfway up the straightaway and as I pass him I give a friendly shout of something like “Come On!”, thinking maybe I can inspire him to chase me. My rabbit takes off like a, well… a rabbit and flashes past me as I exclaim, “There it is!”. He gets about 50 feet ahead of me and holds the gap to the top.

I chased and chased and chased. I can’t describe how much fun it was trying to close down that gap. I broke my personal record by 22 seconds (4:26 from stop sign at the bottom to the stop sign at the top). I finally caught my rabbit halfway to the Torrey Pines golf course, congratulated him and thanked him.

Then I turned around and did 4 more laps up the hill before returning home.

There are three course options at the San Diego Century. You can ride a 37, 66, or 103 mile course. The way the course is laid out, everyone starts together and at some point, the 37-milers take a right while the rest continue on. Later on, the 66-mile course turns right while the 103 continues.

It was at this crossroads, between the 66-mile and 103-mile courses, that we found ourselves yesterday morning.

I was willing to support the team and do either course, but preferred the 66 - this was supposed to be a “go-easy” day for me. I think Mark also preferred the shorter course, but was willing to go for 103 miles if the team was willing. Andy had signed up for the 103-mile course and didn’t want to quit. He was pretty nervous about the distance and hills and heat awaiting us and worried that he hadn’t trained enough and wasn’t fit enough for it - but he just didn’t want to quit. I realized that this is like many of the choices we make in life.

Do I take the “safe” road - confident that I can finish, but not terribly inspired by the prospects of “same-old” results? Or do I accept the risk of failure and venture boldly into the unknown, unsure if I can make it, but driven by the opportunity to grow and achieve something completely new?

It’s easy to let our “reasons” get in the way. It’s too hot, the hills are too steep, I haven’t trained for it, it’s getting late, I’d rather be at the Pizza Port, etc, etc, etc. And we know as we say them that our reasons make our lives smaller and limit what’s possible for us.

We continued on the 103-mile course that day. It was hot, the hills were steep and we didn’t make it all the way. But we ventured into the unknown, took the risk, gave it our best shot and in the process grew a little and gained something completely unavailable on the 66-mile course.

Congrats Andy.

Team Climb On! rode the San Diego Century yesterday to support the Challenged Athletes Foundation.

It is the mission of the Challenged Athletes Foundation to provide opportunities and support to people with physical disabilities so they can pursue active lifestyles through physical fitness and competitive athletics. The Challenged Athletes Foundation believes that involvement in sports at any level increases self-esteem, encourages independence and enhances quality of life.

I really dig how CAF views people with disabilities as potential competitive athletes. They have certainly expanded my views of what people with disabilities can accomplish.

Mark, Andy and I rolled out for a late start at around 7:45am. I still feel like I’m in a rebuilding mode so I didn’t push the pace very hard, Mark and Andy were happy to oblige. Of course, there were the town signs… If you’ve ridden with Mark, you know he likes to sprint for any town signs we encounter. It’s a fun game and we usually go for them, trying to earn “green jersey points”. If Mark is anything, he’s a world-class sprinter so I don’t really win very many of them. If you get withing 500m of a town sign with Mark on your back wheel, you will lose the sign, guaranteed.

And, of course, Mark is always on your back wheel. It just doesn’t make sense to him to take turns at the front. So, my experience for a large portion of yesterday’s ride was riding at the front of the group, taking all the wind and having Mark jump out of my slipstream every so often to resoundingly beat me in a town sign sprint.

We dropped Andy off at Pizza Port to save us a table with about 5 miles to go. I had been helping Andy make it back so now absolved of my team responsibilities, I decided it was time to put the hurt on my sprinter friend.

I got back on the front and picked up the pace to 20-something. As we approached the Solana Beach sign, Mark jumped out for another 263mph sprint and easily took the sign (again). He sat up, waiting for my luscious slipsteam, but as I passed him, I went a little wide, put it on full gas and gapped him. I was going 31mph on the flats, crossing the lagoon and Mark did a fantastic job chasing me down and getting back on my wheel. As soon as I saw his shadow on my wheel, I eased up a little to get my HR back under control, crossed an intersection and went full gas again. This is how you beat Mark. He’s got tremendous power but can only use it a certain number of times before he must recover. I was not sprinting, just going to 95%+ HR for a much longer duration than his normal sprint. I only needed this second burst to pop him permanently. I put my HRM at 95% and zoomed the last couple of miles to the finish line alone.

I crossed the line in an easy gear without worrying about a roadrunner zooming out of my shadow for the “win”.

Team Climb On! Official Standings
San Diego Century Bike Tour

Yellow Jersey (overall): A. Asch
Green Jersey (points): M. Wineman
Red Jersey (most guts): A. Karydes

Other notables:
D. Mozealous: DNF
M. Firger: DNF
C. Wakefield: DNF
M. Colebank: DNF

Today is bike to work day. There are a ton of activities going on across the nation encouraging people to stop driving and start cycling. And even though I work from home, I decided to join in and bike to work too. It sure is a lot harder getting up the stairs than it looks.

Here’s the way I see it - if you don’t have to leave your house for work, don’t. If you do, then take your bike.

Imagine for a moment that you’re a pro-cyclist racing in the Giro d’Italia. You’ve spent the entire day (100+ miles) in a 5-man breakaway. It’s the last kilometer of the race and it looks like you’ve got the best legs.

Then your chain breaks. Poor David Millar.