Slow and Tired

Rollers: A new experience

2006-12-26T14:29:00.000-07:00

Just a reminder that I'm posting on Lactic Acid Threshold now. In fact, a new post today about, you guessed it, my first experience riding on rollers which took place over the weekend.

Some changes.

2006-12-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

Some things don't change. When they do, they sometimes stay that way. I admit, I was on a roll. Training for my big ride kept me thinking about cycling all the time. Writing about cycling came naturally, as I like to write.

The ride was over, work kicked into gear, and the weather changed.

I haven't been on my bike for a long time.

I've gained weight.

My legs are hairy.

But, I'm trying to get back out of my rut. I just got a used set of rollers I'm going to try out.

In the middle of all this, I had this brilliant idea (to me, anyway). As many of you might know, my brother has a very nice blog going at Lactic Acid Threshold. It is very popular. It is entertaining. It is updated more frequently than mine. Still, though, it isn't updated as often as a blog should be.

Here's my idea: We work together. He likes to write about cycling gear and cycling news. I like to just write. Hopefully, combining the two will make for a more interesting area to hang out. At the end of each post, it says who wrote it, so don't feel like you'll lose track of my online personality.

With that being said, go to Lactic Acid Threshold and read my latest post. Thanks for all your support on this blog and don't forget to change your bookmarks to the new URL (http://acidinmylegs.blogspot.com).

Pockets or Bust

2006-11-15T13:30:00.000-07:00

Jerseys are a lot like bicycle frames. All bicycle frames should have as many water-bottle mounts as the tubeset allows. All of them. This doesn't mean mountain bikes shouldn't have any. Or fixies. Or single-speeds. I would even go so far as to say TT-specific bikes should have them. The cyclist has the option to use them, or not. Put cages on, or keep your frame bare and clean-looking. Whatever you want, but ALWAYS give me the option.

Jerseys should always have three rear pockets. Three. Always. Period.

Mountain jerseys, too? Yes.

Skin suits? That's not a jersey, that's a skin suit. Pay attention.

I might never choose to use them, but I always want the option. Also, two tiny side pockets with a normal middle pocket doesn't count. I want three BIG pockets on every jersey. If you choose to make one zippered, or add a fourth zippered pocket, that's just fine. Give me my three normal ones, though.

Coming soon, I'll be posting a review of jerseys (corresponding to my review of bibs). My feelings on this matter just might come through on that review, so I thought I'd prepare the few,stalwart readers of this blog in advance.

Bib Shorts

2006-11-13T23:26:00.000-07:00

There is nothing quite like a nice pair of bib cycling shorts. They fit so well, and make riding so much nicer (i.e. more comfortable). For the last few months I have, quite unabashedly, been testing four high-end shorts from Assos, Giordana, Cannondale, and Pearl Izumi. The price for these shorts range from $230 at the high-end (Giordana), to $110 at the low-ish end (Cannondale).

These shorts are so nice. I mean, it is almost immoral to spend that much money on shorts. They are, without a doubt, very VERY nice. Would I spend my hard-earned money on them? Well, no. I don't make enough money to be able to afford them. The Cannondale's, however, are almost affordable.

Check out my review here.

The (almost) Perfect Autumn Morning

2006-11-07T09:00:00.000-07:00

It was a perfect morning. Unlike normal November mornings, it was in the 40's. The moon was out, making the dawn even brighter than normal. In fact, I really should have left my light behind. I left with tights, a skull cap, arm warmers, and a vest. I was plenty warm, but not too hot. The ground was dry and crackled with leaves as I rolled along. The air was clear. There was only a hint of a breeze--not the normal morning gale of the canyon. I was feeling confident, too. I was ready to try new things, push myself a little faster.

I noticed a little rattling somewhere, but it could be anything. I wasn't going to let a little thing like that ruin my day.

The first climb over now, I started to hammer down the first loose descent with a sharp turn before climbing up out of the gully. I really was feeling on today.

More rattling. What could it be? Well, I have my light, so I point it down at the bike and start shaking things.

Solid. Everything feels really solid. Rear-shock? Nope. Seat? Nope. Front wheel? Nope. Ah well, on the bike again.

I'm pushing a faster pace than normal and loving it, but that rattle is really getting bad. A little rattle I can handle, but this is ridiculous. I've got to figure this out, I think. So, stopping once more, I suddenly wonder about my front caliper. Sure enough, it's loose. Missing one of the two bolts holding it on, and the other is barely there.

All of a sudden, a picture is opened up to my mind. I can see it clearly. I was getting ready for the ride this morning, plugging in my light and mounting the battery to my top-tube, when I saw my multi-tool. Should I bring it, I thought? Nah, I never need that on the trail. A pump, yes. A spare tube, of course. A multi-tool? What a waste of weight.

Lesson #1
Always carry a multi-tool with you--especially if you're going it alone.

Lesson #2 (the more-important one)
Check your bike before leaving the garage/car/place where tools are. My morning ride started out so perfect, but only lasted about 15 minutes. Lesson learned.

Please Fix This

2006-11-06T12:48:00.000-07:00

Winter is steadily approaching, and already I've been digging up all my winter clothing. (Unfortunately, I can't seem to find my WindStopper(TM) glove shells. Has anyone seen them?) When I size up the weather before my rides, I always try and get away with layered jerseys, as opposed to wearing jackets or vests. Although no jersey (except, perhaps mountain-specific ones) comes with out at least three, it seems rare to find either jackets or vests with rear pockets. Also, if they do have pockets, there is generally only one in the back.

Why? I mean, is there less need to carry items in the winter? "Let me see, I've got my phone, energy gels, I guess I can leave the spare tube and CO2inflator at home. It *is* winter, after all." In truth, I generally carry more in the winter because I often have to shed gloves or other layering items as I heat up.

In an effort to make this easy on the clothing manufacturers, I propose the following solution. Please create a horizontal slit running the width of each jacket or vest (yes, even the vests with the mesh back). This flap should have overlapping pieces of fabric (with the top piece over the bottom piece) so as to keep rain out. The overlap should be enough to keep wind out. If worried about water somehow finding its way in, a laminated zipper should solve that problem. If you do this, we can then use our existing jersey's (with three or more pockets) to hold our goods. If we don't need the storage, we won't have incurred the penalty of weight or cost or whatever of pockets in a jacket.

Thank you. Although you, the clothing manufacturers, will undoubtedly make much more money as this innovative outerwear sells like mad, all I ask in return is free samples.

Thank you.

Cold and Crunchy

2006-10-31T13:06:00.000-07:00

For a very brief period, I had that beautiful XTR front derailleur on my bike. Mind you, it was never hooked up to anything (i.e. cables and shifters—that sort of thing), but it was mounted. My main problem with the derailleur on my bike was the bottom bracket. Actually, some of you might be tempted to point out it was my own mechanical ineptitude that was the root of the problem. Perhaps we’ll discuss that on another post.

Moving on…

You see, despite thinking that most bottom brackets were fairly universal, they are not. Especially this is true when relating to E-type derailleurs. In fact, neither of the two types of bottom brackets (and their corresponding cranks) works with this derailleur. That is, the derailleur sits there mounted and looking pretty—as it is supposed to. But, when force is applied to the crank in an attempt to turn it, one finds that the force actually required to move it at all is much higher than typical. Some might even say it is difficult to move them. Evidently, the 2.5mm thickness of the E-type mount is too much for a bottom bracket not made for such a mount.

Shifting
Needless to say, I am back to running a 1x8 (ish) setup. In anticipation of front shifting, I have added the smallest chainring now to my crank. Which brings me to this morning’s ride. Once again, I found myself on the fully-rigid project bike. Knowing that my knees have been killing me for the last 5 weeks or so, I’ve been trying to take it easy on the advice of my doctor. Today, before getting on my bike I manually—that is, with my hand—shifted my chain to the inner chainring. Today’s ride: the relatively smooth but swoopy race-track (XC) just up the mouth of Provo Canyon (the north side—south exposure--of the canyon).

Overall, I had a blast. There were times when I wished for a taller gear, but mostly was grateful to take it easy on the climbs.

The Best Part
Somewhere I got a coupon for a free Gatorade Endurance (*New*). With that I filled my bottle this morning before heading out. Please note that this Gatorade wasn’t refrigerated. No, today’s energy drink started out at a comparatively balmy room temperature (about 68 degrees in my house at 6am.). Outside, however, it was in the upper 20s, or thereabouts.

The best part of today’s ride was the Gatorade slushy that was produced in my bottle by the time I finished up my ride. It came at a point where all but my toes were toasty and warm from the exertion. Perfect.

Project Hardtail: Update

2006-10-20T13:07:00.000-06:00

With my new light which came from Nashbar, came an E-Type XTR front derailleur. This is the one with the carbon fiber plate (unique to this type of derailleur is a plate which connects with the bottom bracket). They don't use carbon anymore. They probably found that a) they could sell just as many with an aluminum bracket as they did with carbon--only much cheaper to produce (except, I bet Shimano didn't lower the price) and b) they don't really sell all that many E-Type derailleurs anyway.

I now have an XTR front and an Alivio rear derailleur--remember, this bike was built up as an inexpensive commuter. I still need to figure out shifting. Oh, and I have a set of unused Nokon cables that will probably find its way onto this ride. Eventually, I'd like all my parts to be nice, but for now, the Alivio might have to stay.

LEDs for Me

2006-10-20T12:10:00.000-06:00

I recently bought a Planet Bike SuperFlash tail light. What I really want is this one (here's a better picture of it's power), but owing to my lack of money, I started digging through Nashbar in the hopes of finding a cheapblinky red-LED light. James recommended the SuperFlash, as it actually uses a 1/2 watt red LED. The more power the better, I say, and because it was on sale for almost half-off, I jumped on it.

Though I haven't actually gone on a night ride with it, I did use it as a flash light around my house last night and this morning. (I always look for ways to play with my new toys--even if I can't use them for what they are made for.) This light is bright. In fact, it seems--though I don't have the tools to test it--much brighter than my 1 watt front light. Pictured here is a shot taken with the light on in my bike's bedrooom--yes, my bike gets its own bedroom (though it has to stay in the garage when people come to visit)--which shows how bright it is because my little cheapo camera metered off the SuperFlash.

There are two modes: obnoxious blink and steady. For the blink mode, there are two additional standard (low-powered) red LEDs in addition to the 1/2 watt. They alternate: little blink, BIG BLINK. This is what makes them obnoxious. It fools you into thinking it is a plain-old blinky and then WHOA, that's bright. Planet Bike lists burn time on blink mode as 100 hrs. (The SuperFlash runs on two AAA batteries.) The steady mode only uses the 1/2 watt LED of course--I'm not sure you'd even be able to tell if the two little LEDs were lit.

The other light here is the Knog Toad. This uses Knog's silicone wrap-around-the-bar mounting and has 5 LEDs mounted in a vertical fashion. The main reason why I like this light is the mounting. I have one of those fancy flat-top carbon drop bars on my bike which, though comfortable and sexy, doesn't work with any mounting system out there--well, except Knog's. There are three modes: steady, fast-blink, and slow-blink.

One problem I have with the way the Toad mount works (as opposed to the bullfrog, which I had for a very brief stint) is that the button is under the silicone wrap. There is, in fact, a special "button" built into the wrap part to line up with the real button in the base. Unfortunately, when the wrap is stretched almost to its limit (as it is with my bars), the buttons don't line up so well.

Again, I haven't been on the road with this one yet, so I can't comment on real-world testing. The Toad retails for $32.

These lights came just in time, too. Tomorrow starts the hunting season which means that, for the first time this year, it is safer to be on the roads than in the mountains.

A Trial Run

2006-10-15T14:11:00.000-06:00

Ever since my vacation to Oregon--wherein I got to ride a really nice hardtail --I've been longing for a lightweight hardtail mountain bike. Of course, I have my commuter which is nearly a complete bike. (I say nearly because it only has one chainring in the front.) The other day I thought, "If people can ride fully rigid single-speeds all over the place, I ought to be able to handle my 8 speeds on my fully rigid commuter. So, I swapped out my heavy alloy handlebar with a nice short-rise carbon handlebar. (I knew I'd need all the cushioning I could get.) With that, I headed out on a short ride up a trail I recently rode on my super-plush Jekyll--full suspension for those unfamiliar with the model.

Though the pictures show knobbies here, I've since swapped those tires out for some semi-slicks. I was using this bike for commuting, after all. Though there are still some low-end parts on it (for example: the rear derailleur is Shimano Alivio), it is quite light.

It felt light, too.

The first 50' of this trail is made up of wood chips--put there, no doubt, to control erosion . I immediately noticed that what always seemed like smooth trail now felt quite uneven and rough. I was a little shocked at first, but soon remembered the days of riding before suspension.

In those days, a lot of effort was spent picking a line. Riding on a trail was a much more dynamic experience, as I had to always be careful of things in the trail (rocks, roots, and such) that might hinder my progress. I was always moving this way and that--trying to find the perfect line between all of the obstacles. I was amazed at how quickly I had to pick up this skill that had atrophied to almost nonexistence . Gone was the lazy mountain biker that ignored anything smaller than a curb. I also enjoyed the ability to stand up and really accelerate. Though, perhaps I need to fiddle with the settings of my rear shock, I don't feel that way on my Jekyll.

As far as the missing gears, I missed them. For the most part, I was able to keep my speed up and hammer up the climbs. There were times however, when I struggled to keep my cadence high enough to keep the pedals turning. I've already ordered a front derailleur, and I have a full-crankset.

Even including the downhill, during which, I descended noticeably slower, I beat the last time on that trail (on my Jekyll) by almost 10 minutes. I really had a blast on that bike.

My plans still include a suspension fork--though I think my Manitou Black (100-120mm) is too much. I'd like to get something short and light--say 80 or 90mm. I do have a front derailleur on the way, but I still need to find shifters. I'll probably end up moving to 9 speed at that point (which will require a new chain and cassette and, maybe, rear-derailleur). I'd stick with 8-speed if I could get it to shift right, but I've never gotten my old SunTour thumb shifter to work right. (In fact, even during this ride, I had to stop and fiddle with it a bit.) I've worked out a trade of sorts with James, and will soon be able to swap out my$10 seat post with this one.

Oh, and I decided, once again, that I'm just not tough enough for a single-speed. Even with my relatively low gear of 32x32, my left knee started to really hurt as I grinded up some of the steeper climbs. Though I think their simplicity is beautiful, and I often wish I could enjoy them, you won't be finding one in my stable of bikes any time soon.

My Racing Career

2006-10-06T14:08:00.000-06:00

I don't really race. I mean that not only in the entering races standpoint (with the exception of LOTOJA--but then, one could argue that LOTOJA really isn't a race for most people), but also in the I don't care if I beat you up that hill standpoint.

Actually, that probably isn't true. Now that I think about it, I really want to beat everyone everywhere--I just normally can't.

When riding up a hill, I really want to show my stuff. Hills are what I like and I feel like I can really suffer through them better than most. (Actually, I probably can't, but I don't really know--and that's what keeps me happy.)

On the flats, I also want to win. Of course, to accomplish this, I need to just pull longer than normal when in a group, or volunteer that we should go further. When riding with people, I never want to be the one who picks up the pace just to show how fast he/she is. That's what the hills are for (see above). Another acceptable option is to ride to the starting point, and point out the ride you plan on doing afterwards. I've seen this in action many times.

Descending. Well, I'm never in front in this case (except when they give me a head-start--and then it isn't for long). Off-road or road--it doesn't seem to make a difference. My best bet here is to be off-road on an unfamiliar trail. I love to pull out the "I didn't know what to expect or where I could open it up" card. It happens to be my best excuse. (Though, not as accurate as saying, "I'm really bad at descending.")

This is why I need to apologize to those who I rode with over lunch. One of your number was introduced to me as "a strong rider." That same rider proceeded to tell me how he plans on doing an ironman next year. I felt pretty strong, and I had to find out. I'm sorry for keeping the pace up. I'm sorry for pushing it harder than I ever have up those hills. I just had to do it.

I'm not a racer. I just play one in my mind.

Tour of Utah gets UCI status

2006-10-04T12:37:00.000-06:00

I normally don't post press releases here, but I'm pretty excited about this one--if only because it is local.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah Awarded International Cycling Union (UCI) Status

UCI status earns the Tour of Utah a place on the UCI’s 2007 race calendar

SALT LAKE CITY – October 3, 2006 – Known as “America's Toughest Tour,” the Tour of Utah, presented by Three Peaks Promotions, has been awarded International Cycling Union (UCI) status. Receiving this prestigious honor recognizes the Tour of Utah as a highly regarded, world-renowned cycling event; consequently, the Tour will be given a date on the 2007 UCI calendar.

The decision to make the Tour of Utah an official UCI event comes from recommendations by UCI commissaires who participated behind the scenes at the 2006 inaugural Tour, as well as from positive feedback from race teams. UCI commissaire Marilyn Allen was the team liaison for the August 2006 Tour. “The teams were happy with the event and look forward to returning next year,” she said. “I would like to congratulate Three Peaks for putting on a very successful 2006 Tour.”

The Tour of Utah is a “Tour de France-style” six- day, six-stage, 500-mile bike race across some of Northern Utah’s most beautiful and challenging landscapes. Planning for 2007 is already underway with the Tour dates to be set for late July or early August.

Jason Preston, president of Three Peaks Promotions and race director for the Tour of Utah said he has been overwhelmed by the amount of positive press and personal feedback the Tour has received from cycling enthusiasts and Utah community leaders.

“Hosting the Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah was like revisiting our Olympic experience,” said Lewis K. Billings, mayor of Provo. “Once again the excitement and energy of a first-class international sports competition was alive in the streets of Provo and was reflected in the faces and hearts of the people who came to watch.”

Salt Lake Convention & Visitors Bureau CEO and president Scott Beck offered positive feedback saying "On behalf of the Salt Lake Convention & Visitors Bureau, our 850 member-businesses and our community, I wish to congratulate the producers, sponsors and supporters of the Tour of Utah for the incredible success the Tour enjoyed in just its first year.”

“As one of the state's primary marketing organizations,” says Beck, “we fully support and endorse the future of the Tour of Utah, appreciating the fact that UCI-sanctioned events produce incredible media exposure for host cities and destinations such as Salt Lake before, during and long after the event to cyclists and outdoor enthusiasts around the globe. Few events are able to encompass the many attributes Salt Lake has to offer as a tourism destination, from the stunning landscape and backdrop to its incredible hospitality infrastructure; the Tour of Utah is definitely one such event. Again, a sincere 'thanks' goes to the Tour of Utah team for bringing professional cycling to Salt Lake and the State of Utah, exposing the world once again to all we have to offer."

Preston said he has already been looking at several routes for 2007 and is confident that the race will live up to its reputation as “America’s Toughest Tour.” “We look forward to getting our team around us right away in order to raise the bar for next year,” said Preston. “It was the volunteers, sponsors and employees that stepped up to the plate this year and pulled off such a fantastic event. Next year after the Tour de France, American cycling fans can see European style racing with epic climbs and scenery without having to learn French or cross the Atlantic.”

The International Cycling Union (UCI) is the association for the International Cycling Federation and regulates and promotes cycling at the international level. In addition, the UCI organizes the World Championships for all disciplines and encourages friendly relations between members of the cycling family.

For the latest 2007 Tour of Utah schedule, please refer to the UCI web site at www.uci.ch.

More information about the 2006 Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah can be found on the official race Web site at www.tourofutah.com or contact Chip Smith at 801.523.3730 or csmith@soarcomm.com.

About Three Peaks Promotions
Three Peaks Promotions, LLC, owns and operates the Tour of Utah and is one of the leading cycling sports presenters in the Western United States. Three Peaks Promotions creates and manages a variety of cycling events and special programs for corporate sponsors, non-profit organizations and municipalities including the Thanksgiving Point Cycling Classic, Freedom Peloton, Sundance Hill Climb, Thanksgiving Point Weekly Criterium Series, and the Tour of Utah. For further information, visit www.threepeakspromotions.com or call 800.807.9804.

About the 2006 Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah
The 2006 Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah was a “Tour de France-style” six-day, six-stage, 500-mile race across some of Northern Utah’s most beautiful and challenging landscapes, which took place August 7- 12, 2006. It is considered “America’s Toughest Tour” and consisted of 16 professional cycling teams totaling 100-plus cyclists who competed for a cash/prize purse of $40,000. Adding to success of the 2005 Tour of Utah, deemed the biggest cycling event in Utah history, the weeklong 2006 Tour was accompanied by a rolling festival celebration at the finish line of each of the six stages. An estimated 100,000 spectators lined the course and attended the festivals in Park City, Salt Lake City, Tooele, Provo, Midway, and Snowbird. The 2006 Tour of Utah was sponsored by the Larry H. Miller Group, owners of the Utah Jazz and presented by Zions Bank, one of Utah’s longstanding and largest banking institutions. For more information visit www.tourofutah.com or call 800.708.9804.

Wait Until Dark

2006-09-29T15:53:00.000-06:00

I've heard night riding (with lights, of course) described as riding through a tunnel. This isn't really accurate--unless, of course, someone is following you with lights. I would describe night riding as this: Almost getting into a tunnel.

You see, in a tunnel, you are lit up--along with everything in front and behind you. Even with a light mounted to my helmet, I am not lit up. I am in darkness. The entire time. I'm almost there, almost to the tunnel, but I never quite make it. I can almost see my hands on the bars. Everything behind that is obscured by darkness.

Riding in the dark also makes nature seem small to me. I can't see anything around me, all I see is what is in front of me. Perhaps this is that tunnel feeling. I'm no longer in the wide-open expanse of nature. Everything is small.

Well, small and spooky.

Thanks to James' comment on my post yesterday, I stuck to the closer-to-man trails around the mouth of Provo Canyon. I wanted to go longer--indeed, my lights would have lasted at least an hour longer, but I couldn't quite bring myself to venture out into the truly wild. Okay, it isn't wild like the Amazon basin, but wild for Utah. Though I have often been in almost dark situations (especially just before dawn), this was one of the few times I've mountain biked from start to finish in the dark.

Some things I discovered
Bird's eyes reflect just like other animals. There was a particular stretch of trail that I covered both coming and going. There were birds trying to sleep on the trail. At first, I thought I was seeing mice, but then they flew away. One poor bird was too tired to fly more than a few feet. Unfortunately, it was a few feet further up the trail. Eventually, after a chasing it a ways up the trail like this, I took pity on the bird and rode far enough around it so it didn't try and fly away.

Large spiders also reflect light--though I suspect it wasn't the eyes I saw. At least I hope not. Moving on...

Though I am slow at descending, I am really, really slow at descending in the dark. Also, because the light doesn't allow me to view very far down the trail, I don't think riding a lot in the dark would help me learn to be a better descender--it would teach me to look only just in front of my front wheel.

James always tells me how a helmet light alone isn't that great because you lose depth-perception. He's right. In fact, though I wouldn't want to get rid of the helmet-mounted light altogether, I wished my handlebar light were brighter and my helmet light a little dimmer. There were times when I'd notice an obstacle, like a dip in the trail, only to look at it (with my bright helmet light) and have it vanish. The handlebar mount is very important.

Even with both lights, very tall grass surrounding very narrow trails makes it hard to see where you are going.

Challenging bits of trail aren't any easier in the dark. Perhaps this is what makes riding in the dark so much fun. If you're used to a particular trail (like the one closest to your house), you can liven things up a bit by doing it in the dark.

Besides being sick to my stomach (too much dinner), it was a lot of fun last night. If you have the lights, I recommend it.

Something Happened That Prevented Me From Riding

2006-09-28T16:05:00.000-06:00

What happens when I don't ride? I don't think.

What happens when I don't think? Well, lots of embarrassing things. Also, though, I don't post to this blog.

Posting to this blog is secondary, though. I mean, nothing can be worse than not riding. Well, of course, that isn't true, but not riding is certainly nothing I'd wish on anyone--not anyone I like, anyway.

For reasons that aren't interesting enough to include here, and too numerous to even remember, I have been cheated--yes, I said cheated--out of riding almost from the moment I came home from LOTOJA. At first, mind you, this wasn't bad. I mean, if it weren't for my utter exhaustion, I would have probably gotten out of bed and sold my bike(s). But now, now that I love bikes again, I want to ride.

First, it was nature. Yes, nature, once again, pulled out all the stops. It got cold. It rained. It snowed. The worst however--and this has yet to be rectified--is that there isn't as much sunlight. Coupled with my lack of tail-light (having broken mine going over train tracks a month or two ago), I can't ride on the road any more in the early morning.

That's fine, I have my mountain bike. And I have some nice lights.

Except this week, for whatever reason, my daughter--whom I take to school almost daily--has to be at school around 7:45 am. That means leaving at 7:30 am. For mountain biking (because I don't actually live on a trail), I have to plan for 15-20 minutes of driving to the nearest trail. I figured out that this morning, I had to get up at 4:30 to do the ride I wanted to do.

Here's a surprise: I didn't hear my alarm... or something.

I am now forced to live out the rest of my day staring out at the beautiful 75-degree weather from inside my cold, grey office.

I'm not giving up today, though. I'm going to try and ride tonight. Still in the dark, but I don't have to get up early to do it. I just have to stay up late.

Do cougars come out at night?

The Scent of DeFeet

2006-09-25T09:06:00.000-06:00

I just wrapped up two reviews: the DeFeet UnDShurt baselayer and EarthEator socks. I found both of these products to work exceptionally well. So, instead of wishing there were more content here to distract you from the drudgery of your day, go there and read the reviews. Both products were worn to much acclaim on LOTOJA.

LOTOJA: Complete (links)

2006-09-25T08:55:00.000-06:00

I just wanted to post this as a reference to all my other posts. Due to the nature of the Blog, to those that didn't follow along as I wrote it, everything is listed in reverse order. I have here the links--in order, no less:

A Beginning
A Cyclist
Feed Zone
The Climbs
The Finish

LOTOJA: The Finish

2006-09-17T22:31:00.000-06:00

The adrenaline is wearing thin and I start to revert inside myself for the long miles ahead. How do so many miles tick by without my notice. My muscles notice, though. Slowly they are starting to groan. They aren't out-right complaining, but I can tell there is murmuring among the ranks.

I'm in a group now. This one is pretty big and moving fast. It isn't that I mind going fast, but I continue to worry about finishing. I've gone about as far as I ever have on a bike. Anything further is uncharted territory. My heart rate is too high. I sit up and drop back. Alone again? Not quite. There is another that has fallen back with me.

I met him last night at the informational meeting for those, like me, who are first-timers. I can't remember his name. I do remember, though, that he works at a shop that sponsors LOTOJA. A month ago his boss came to him and suggested he fill one of the spots reserved for sponsors. He was pretty excited but it was also apparent that he had no idea what he was getting himself in to.

Does anyone their first time?

At this point in the race, I don't really want to waste energy talking. We smile and begin to work together. Am I being paranoid, or is the wind picking up against us? Though we are going slower than when we were part of that group, I can tell he is struggling.

"Keep going. I'm going to have to pace myself now." I'm not sure what he means until I glance back and see him falling behind. "Good luck," I offer as I press on alone. In life, I would have slowed to help a suffering friend. In a bike race, if it isn't helping me, I move on. This is brutal.

Afton, WY. Feed zone 5. 125 miles. I really need this feed zone. I'm tired. I haven't been drinking enough but I force myself to wait in line to urinate. James has the sunscreen, but I'm certain I've already burned my upper arms. "You need to drink more." I know, I know. I also need to eat more, but I just can't bring myself to do it. He hands me a banana for my pocket and I choke down a half peanut-butter and honey sandwich. I add more GU to my stash. I keep my vest in case it rains. There have been reports of rain up ahead.

I actually lay down for about 30 seconds before my conscience smites me and I realize I need to get back on the bike. James is encouraging though I hardly hear it now. Back on the bike. Pedal.

I find a pack moving at a fairly fast pace, but I manage to keep up. I'm not really paying attention to anything but the wheel in front of me right now. We're still moving into the wind and I need them. A short guy riding bow-legged with his saddle too low takes over. The fool has picked up the pace. We're flying now, moving about 4-5mph faster than before. At least, for a few moments we're flying. One by one, we drop of and the group shatters into 15 separate pieces. I can still see him plowing on ahead. Alone now. He probably thinks everyone is still behind him. I want to shake my fist at him. "Don't you see what you've done? You've hurt us all, including yourself!" Sure enough, when he is about 1/4 mile ahead, I see him ease up. Our group is starting to reform. I want no part of a group with this guy. I'm tired, now, and that surge hurt.

I suck down another vile GU. Not as bad as that Clif Shot, though. My stomach lurches at the thought.

After some miles, everyone has decided on different paces and that group has split and reformed with others producing other groups. The flow of the race is continual and fluid. Cyclists slide up, move back. Some bonk. Others get their 2nd wind. It is constantly changing. I know I need to eat, but the thought is horrible. I peel my banana.

I've found myself in a group of three Cat 5 riders. They all look to be in their 50s. They all are wearing the 2006 LOTOJA jersey. They all have mustaches. I find this amusing and it takes me away from the darkness. I join in the back. I enjoy listening to their banter. Obviously friends. Only friends would sacrifice such energy for laughter. I'm smiling again.

I'm too guilty a rider to do nothing but suck someone's wheel the whole way. I ease up the side and volunteer to pull. "I hope you don't mind me sitting in with you guys. I'm willing to pull my load."

After a hearty welcome I'm in front. I keep my pace steady. I've learned something of the devastation of surging from the squat man with the bow-legged style. At this distance, I really hate riding point. It isn't that I'm in the wind completely, either. No, it is that I know someone is exactly behind me. I know everyone else is matching my speed. I can't stand up to stretch my legs. I can't coast. I must keep it steady and smooth. Especially if I want to stay with this group.

After several miles, I peel off and slide back. "Nice pull." "Good work."

I'm not sure why it is important for me to stay with this group. It just is. Freud might say that they remind me of my father in appearance and demeanor. Surely it takes more than mustaches. One thing is certain: They are going my pace. This is how fast I want to be going, so, if I can find a group that can pull me along at this speed, perfect.

For another thing, they amuse me and help me feel welcome. I am a bit of an introvert, and normally I wouldn't spend much time trying to fit in to a group like this. However, this isn't life. This is cycling. I need the companionship. I need the support. As long as I can get that without taking from them, I'll be allowed to stay. Four is stronger than three.

Ten years ago, if someone had asked me my opinion of road cycling, I would have told them that I couldn't bear the tedium of the road. I needed the mountains. I needed the obstacles in the trail. The constant change of the medium I'm riding on. The white-knuckle descents. The grueling loose climbs. What did the road have to offer?

Something must have changed in me during that time. I love the road. I can't seem to step away from it. The road draws to me like mountain biking never did. It calls to me. It shouts at me. It bullies me into following day after day. Every road, even the same road, leads me some place new each time.

This road, apparently, doesn't have an end. Where is that next feed zone? Though the guys try and keep things lively. The wind is having its affect on them, too. Someone needs to take a "natural" break. We stop and wait for him. I start talking with one of the guys about LOTOJA. He's surprised I'm doing it alone. They've done it each at least three times together.

"You've done this before?" I ask. It occurs to me that I don't ever want to do it again. In fact, I really don't even want to finish it. I don't like this race anymore. "Yeah, it usually takes a month or so. Gradually, the memories change. By the time they open up registration for the next year, I can't wait to sign up."

Last year, LOTOJA was hit with unseasonably cold weather. There was snow in the passes. Though 90% of the riders generally finish LOTOJA, last year--due to lack of preparation for the cold weather--only 30% finished. "Yeah, we were there for SNOTOJA. We didn't finish. The weather is great this year." I can't help but agree. It must be only the 70s now. Sunny. Though many have warned of rain, we have yet to see a drop. I still can't imagine wanting to ever ride this race again. Will I even want to get back on my bike again?

On again. Pedal. Everything hurts. The dull kind of aching that comes after 9+ hours on the bike. Much further than it should have been, I see the sign: "1 KM to FEED ZONE."

"Mind if I join you for the next leg?" I want to establish myself in this group. I feel as though my success in this race depends on them. "We usually take our time at the feed zones. Probably 5-10 minutes," they replied. "If you don't mind that, you're welcome to join us. We don't mind having someone else to share the pulling."

Alpine, WY. Mile 159. "Only 47 miles to go. You can do that. You're doing awesome." James is there as usual giving me the morale boost I need. I don't really want to get on my bike again, but I also don't want to lose this group. I see a couple of them grouping around the outhouses up the road. "See you at the finish line!"

I'm off again, but only to join with them. After a little more waiting the third in the group joins us. With a big smile he proclaims he's ready to ride, "I've got more butt-butter. I'm good to go!" Another turns to me and asks, "How did he put that on?" He didn't even use the outhouse. "Nevermind, I don't want to know."

Immediately following Alpine, we turn up a canyon. I'm not sure there is a tail wind, but at least there isn't a head wind. I remember from the map that the next bit is rolling. I think I might just survive this.

We agree to a system. Every mile marker we rotate. Pull for one mile, off for three. In this way, we slowly tick off the miles. This canyon is gorgeous. If I weren't so tired, I'd really enjoy it. If I could stop, I'd really enjoy it right now. I start to lose contact with everything except the person right in front of me. Watch my speed. Watch my distance. Don't forget to eat. Don't forget to drink. Another banana. Another GU. More Cytomax. More water.

I don't care about the beautiful canyon. I don't notice the river below. A pack slides past us effortlessly. How do they do that? Where did they come from? I pedal.

Somehow, the miles pass. I'm pulling again. How many times have we rotated? The road goes up. I shift, my chain drops, and I can't get it back on. All my momentum is gone. Expecting the three companions to move past me, I mutter an apology as I reach down to stick the chain back on. To my surprise, everyone is there waiting for me. Even that 15-second break helped. I can pedal again.

We've reached another feed zone. This one is neutral. I fill up my water. Only now do I remember that James gave me extra Cytomax. Good ol' James. At least someone can still think. None of the food they have looks good, but the volunteers are friendly. Someone mentions BYU won their game. This news shocks me, but not because of BYU or their record or their team. It shocks me because something is going on outside of this race. It reminds me that this is a bike ride on a normal Saturday in the fall when many people are mowing their lawn or watching a football game. I can't believe there is more than this race.

We're off again. Three miles off, one mile on. Pedal. I start to notice two pains rising above the din of the rest of my body. My knees. I've never felt pain in my knees on a ride before. It goes away, but comes back again--sharper, this time--when we roll up another short hill. The next small hill causes me to wince as the pain redoubles. I don't know how to describe it except to call it cramping. The rest tell me not to worry about it, but to take it easy and work it out. Again, gratitude that I found these guys.

After more miles, the pain starts to become part of me. I can accept it. Here's a hill. There's the pain. Downhill again, and I'm fine. I pedal on.

Less than 20 miles to go. Easy, I tell myself. That's a ride up to Vivian park and back. I could do that without food, water, or preparation. I don't believe myself. I no longer feel solid. I don't think of myself as accomplishing something great, or doing well. I only think of the miles to go. I only watch my cycle-computer and try and will them to pass by more quickly. I glance at my speed: 22mph. That's pretty good. Why aren't the miles going by? I look down again and see we still have 19 to go. Is this thing working?

We're part of a larger group now. I'm irrational in that I don't want anyone to come between me and those three guys I'm riding with. One thing's for certain, though. I don't have to pull anymore. The lead riders are determined not to let someone slow get in their way so they are rotating amongst themselves without sharing the load. Fine by me.

Jackson. About 10 miles to go. Everything is black. My arms are cramping. My wrists are tingling. Of all the many positions available on standard road drop bars--drops, flats, hoods, etc.--I hate them all. This pace is fast but I no longer care. I just need to reach the end. I'm not going to eat any more food, though my stomach feels empty. I know I need to drink, but my left arm seizes when I grab the bottle with my right.

I remember reading that the last few miles are the most beautiful of the ride, with a vista of the Grand Tetons. All I see is that it is getting closer to dark and I'm not done yet. Still 10 miles to go? I can't believe this. It is never going to end. I hate this bike. I don't notice my legs, but part of me thinks they must be tired. 10 miles? That's a ride to the mouth of the canyon and back. I could do that with flat tires. I could do that in a sprint. I can't do it now.

I know I'm going to finish because I'm in a large group. I'm surrounded by cyclists. I'm pulled along. I can't slow down. I can't turn. I can only continue. Seven miles to go. I guess my computer isn't broken. There is a right turn and I find that some of the group is dropping back. Not me. Pull me in. I'm not slowing down until I cross the line. Then, I may die, but it won't matter.

I finally realize it is dark because I still have my sunglasses on and the sun has gone behind the mountains to the west. Inside, I think this is funny. My expression doesn't change. If I weren't so tired and in the middle of this group, I'd put my vest on. I've carried it in my back pocket for the last 100 miles. I'm chilly now. Can't do it. Besides, I'm so close now.

There is a line of cars in the road. They all have their brake lights lit up. Support cars. We must be close. A sign: 5 KM. Could it be? Am I that close? That's a little over three miles, right? I might make it. A few more kicks of the pedals. I'm close now. Kilometers are much shorter than miles. I'm going 20mph. How long will it take me to get to the end? My mind struggles with the math. Is that 3 minutes for every mile? 10 minutes? That can't be right because I'm not sure I can make it 10 minutes longer.

4 KM. I'm so glad they have these markers. I bet those guys in the cars wish they were on bikes. We're flying past them. Who knows how long they'll be there stopped. Of course, if they felt like me, they wouldn't wish for this. I don't want this any more. So close! Pedal. Keep kicking. Don't worry about the water. Too close now.

3 KM. How many miles is it now? Two? I can't remember. My mind is slow. The group has changed and I haven't even realized it. Keep pedaling. Close. I can't keep going. My legs are black. So are my arms. What was serious discomfort in my butt now pales to the rest of my body. Does it hurt? I don't know. I can't tell.

2 KM. I can't believe how many cars are stopped. Is that the finish line? My thoughts fade. Pedal.

1 KM. I can see the finish line. We start to slow. There are no sprint finishes for those who just finish. I start to realize that I'm doing it. I'm finishing. I've made it. I can't believe that's the finish line. I can't believe I've done 206 miles. I hurt, but the hurt is fading now. I see cyclists walking away from the finish line. They've done it and so will I. Do I raise my arms and shout? Can I? James is there shouting for me. I did it, James. You were right.

Though I want the moment to last--this moment of triumph, where I show the world I did it--it only lasts what it is: a moment. They're telling me to slow down. I'm stopped now. I shake hands with my three companions. I don't think they realize what they've done for me. Someone is taking my radio timing chip off my ankle. I'm surprised to see it still there. I've forgotten about it. How much energy did that band cost me?

"What's your number?" I have a number? I've seen numbers on everyone else's bike. I'm used to their numbers. What's mine? I look down and read it, "Eighteen forty-six." Someone hands me a medal. My time is 12:07. I gave myself 13 hours. I won!

James hands me my Crocs and I take off my cycling shoes and hand them to him. I joke around that my bike is for sale for anyone interested. My legs are screaming at me now and I want to sit down. I want to lie down. The car is 1/2 mile away. I'm smiling. I did it!

Suddenly, I'm ravenously hungry. The thought of food now sounds wonderful. I've got to find a restaurant!

I finished.

LOTOJA: The Climbs

2006-09-14T23:07:00.000-06:00

Though I find myself unsure about what my pace should be for a 200 mile race, I know how to do hills. I'm totally relaxed as I shift to lower gears. I find my pedaling cadence as the climb gets steeper. It feels like coming home.

Most of the cars have been diverted other ways. Though we can't cross the yellow center line, we take up our entire lane. As the pitch increases, so does the number of riders. Of course no one is drafting any longer. At our speed, there is no benefit. That, too, makes me smile and helps me relax further.

I notice that for the first time today I'm really starting to pass people. Lots of people. This surprises me and, for a moment, I panic that I'm going too fast. I check my gears and look at my speed. No, this is exactly right. I can keep this up all day.

I pass more riders.

A few months ago, I decided to try to combine two tough climbs for one long ride. Well, it didn't end up being that long, but 72 miles felt long enough with the 6000' of climbing I did. Though I could get many more miles in if I eliminated the climbs, I couldn't bring myself to do it. The more I trained, the more I discovered that climbing was the part I enjoyed. Whenever I daydream about riding, it always includes some combination of climbs I like to do--or new ones I've never been on.

There's congestion and it frustrates me. I'm glad to not be drafting, sure, but I want to go my pace now. I see an opening and I sprint past 10 or 15 people so I can get to where it is clear. I find it interesting that it doesn't kill me to do so. What is going on today? There is no way that I'm better than the rest of these riders. How did they end up in front of me?

I start looking around and I notice by their numbers that many of them signed up as Cat 5--much higher (and with a much earlier start time) than my mere Citizen 27-34. Were they all bluffing when they signed up?

I pass more riders.

When I was studying the course map last night, I remember finding comfort in the feed zone located about 1 mile from the summit of this climb. I now find it more of an inconvenience. I don't really want to stop and, because this is a neutral feed zone, I know I'm going to have to. I take a pull from my water bottle and find it empty.

On the other hand, I'm starting to warm up.

As with all the volunteers I will encounter on this long stretch of road, everyone here is very friendly and helpful. They seem to understand both my hurry and my need. I'm back on my bike in less than a minute.

The closer I get to the top, the more I start to think of the descent. I hate descending. I'm terrible at corners. I know I'll be passed and that I won't utilize my kinetic energy as efficiently as I should.

There it is. I reach back to grab my vest out of my rear pocket and my hat, which shared the same space, comes out too. I only know this because the cyclist behind me points it out. Great, I think. I haven't even started down the hill and I'm already fumbling.

My speed increases and I'm glad to have my vest on. I realize these turns aren't at all the tight switch-backs I was dreading and so am able to let myself go. A rider slips past me effortlessly. I know enough about cycling and aerodynamics to know there are better ways of going fast with gravity. My hands are in the drops with my finger tips on the brake levers. At this speed, I don't want my hands any further away from my brakes.

Another rider glides past.

Though we spread out on the descent, we gradually come back together as we roll through the valley. My mind goes blank as I get back into the rhythm of the pace line. A glance at the time and I suck down a GU. I must have already had my banana.

I've been riding for 4.5 hours as we approach Montpelier for the third feed zone. I'm already finding discomfort in the saddle so I'm looking forward to this stop. There is something emotional about finding James waiting for me after my toils. I find comfort and relief that he is there supplying my basic needs: food and water.

"You haven't been drinking enough." He says this, not as criticism, but like a worried parent. I make up something about how it's been all downhill since the neutral feed. He's right, though. I tell him that I'll need sunscreen the next time I see him. Unfortunately, that won't be until I get past the next neutral feed zone.

After much too long of a wait at the outhouse, I'm refueled and off again.

The next climb is short, and the lowest of the three today. Once again, I find the groove--my own without the constraints of a pace line populated with strangers. I climb. I relish my time fighting against the mountain. I revel in the people I pass. This climb is also steeper than the last. This doesn't bother me. I love it.

Another benign descent brings me to the next feed zone. I know I've been drinking enough now because I need to wait in line again. While I'm waiting a guy tells me that he's broken two frames just like mine. Is he trying to psyche me out?

They've got Clif Shots here and I grab a mango flavored one. A quick pull and a quick squeeze almost brings me to quickly vomit. How can they destroy a flavor so well? I'm glad I brought so many banana GUs.

The last climb of the day and the King of the Mountain time check. I've heard the last few miles are a 7% grade. Though I'm probably a little cocky, I smile at this thought. Is that it? Many of the climbs I do are 8-10%.

Of course, those aren't followed by almost 100 miles more of riding. I'm at mile 105. I'm no longer feeling fresh, though it never occurs to me that I couldn't make this climb. I always make the climbs.

I try to shift down and find I'm in my lowest gear. I take a pull of water and a GU. Steady. Keep the pace steady. There's no need to speed up, and I don't have to slow down.

I pass more riders.

A cyclist hastily stops at the side of the road to vomit. I can't help but shout out, "I'm so sorry, man," as I pass by. This is one hard race. Among the body parts I've begun to take more notice of, so far the stomach hasn't made it to the long list. I wish I could say the same for where I sit.

I glance down at my computer and notice that I'm over half-way through the race now. How long has it been? 6 hours. Last night, James said, "All you have to do is a 6 hour century followed closely by a 7 hour century. You can do that." And I almost have all the climbing out of the way.

I unzip my jersey all the way.

I don't realize how little my mind is working until I notice that the man shouting at me and taking my picture is James.

James!

James, my thread of reality. My contact with the world. He's shouting praises and running along beside me. "You are doing awesome! You've got it! You rock! Ride through the chute over there and get your time-check and I'll see you at the next feed zone!"

I'm full of adrenaline. I shout and pump my fists in the air as I pass the King of the Mountain check, "Woo Hoo!" In fact, I'm even excited about the descent.

Now, I'm flying!

LOTOJA: Feed Zone

2006-09-13T22:14:00.000-06:00

My biggest fear going into this ride--outside of just being able to finish--was the feed zone. I worried I wouldn't be able to handle the hand-off of the musette (feed bag). Mixed in with this fear was the fear that if I stopped each time, I wouldn't actually have enough time to finish.

As we enter Preston, ID I look up and see a sign: 1 KM to Feed Zone. There are 7 feed zones in this race, and the longest distance was the one I just covered: 34 miles. There are a few children out cheering for us.

Am I going to be able to grab the musette and move on? Will I fumble? Will I wreck?

"Jon! Over here!" And there is James amid the mass of support people lined up. He isn't holding up a musette at all. In fact, it is over his shoulder. I come to a stop and he starts asking me how I'm doing. What I've had to eat. How much I've been drinking. He has it all there, just like we talked about. I stuff the Fig Newtons into a pocket. Add some GUs to my stash. I eat the half peanut butter and honey sandwich. As I'm doing so, James stuffs a banana into my right pocket. He also gives me a plastic bag full of Cytomax powder. The next feed zone is neutral, so I can't count on restocking that there.

"Do you want your arm-warmers still?" I answer yes, but leave my full-fingered gloves with him. My vest comes off and into my middle pocket. There are climbs still to come and it's still early.

I suddenly realize why I'll be stopping at every feed zone. I need to pee and there are outhouses here. Why don't they have more here? I'm waiting in line at a race? While I'm waiting, James is looking at my computer and HRM--trying to figure out how I'm doing. He seems satisfied that I've been sensible.

The first two climbs come before I'll be able to see James again. I get on my bike and he gives me a shove. I'm off. Just like that, I'm past my first feed zone. Mileage-wise, I'm 1/6 of the way there. I feel fantastic as my legs spin me up to speed and I head out of town. Have I forgotten anything?

Sunscreen. Dang. No sunscreen.

LOTOJA: A Cyclist

2006-09-12T22:53:00.000-06:00

In an instant, all my questions are gone. I'm no longer wondering, I'm doing. It is such a relief that for the first time today I'm smiling. Really smiling. One more glance at James as I clip in and I'm off in the mad rush of cyclists.

As we stream out of Logan, I notice a couple of things: There are cops at every corner and intersection clearing the way for us. This is really cool. Somehow I've become a real cyclist.

Also, we're flying. Everyone is rushing--anxious to prove themselves and anxious to let out some of that anxiety they've been suppressing the last few hours (or even days). I can't help but think: "This can't last. Not 200 miles." Slowly they stream past me. All of them. One by one. I can't go it alone--not at any pace--so I hook up and get in the rhythm.

My heart-rate is 157. Too fast. I can handle this for a few hours--maybe 4 at the most--but this isn't the effort I can sustain all day. After 10 miles of fast riding, I sit up and drop back.

Alone? Not really. I know there are cyclists behind me. After all, I wasn't in the last group. To console myself in my solitude, I smugly decide that all the rest really are going to fast for themselves, too. I'm the only one sensible enough to hold something in reserves.

My conscience fades and I'm a cyclist on a lonely highway running through rural Cache County, Utah. I pedal. I watch my heart rate. I drink. It doesn't occur to me to think of where I'm going. I don't wonder about when the next group will catch me. I just know I'm here. I'm moving. I'm a cyclist.

As if out of sleep, there's a line of cyclists streaming by me and someone shouts out, "Hop on!"

Riding in a paceline is not the same as riding. An experienced cyclist would disagree, but I have only a handful of thoughts at this point--and they are very acute in my mind: "Too far." and "Too close." For miles I'm studying the back of the person in front of me. If I drift back more than a foot or two, I'm lost--as are those behind me. If I get too close, or stop paying attention, I will cause a massive pile-up.

Pedal. Soft pedal. Coast. Pedal harder. Soft pedal. Pedal.

Though there are twenty or thirty of us, no one speaks. The only sounds are the freewheels ratcheting and derailleurs guiding.

"Gravel!"

And simple directions that might be missed by the hand-signal language of the pack. Together we move quickly--much faster than I was going alone, but reasonable this time. 139 bpm. That's more like it.

The sun is up over the mountains. The fog has cleared. I don't think I'll be needing those full-fingered gloves I have stashed in my pocket.

Pedal.

LOTOJA: A Beginning

2006-09-11T22:07:00.000-06:00

I woke up at 5 am on Saturday. I was so tired. The previous night had been spent too hot, followed closely by too cold (once the opened window started doing its job). I hadn't slept well. I took a shower trying not to think too much about what lay ahead. The hot water helped to get my blood flowing. Taking more care than usual, I dressed in the clothes I had decided on the night before.

Should I put chamois cream on now, or wait? I'd better do that last before I leave. It will need to last a long time.

I filled two water bottles while James got ready for the day. One filled with Cytomax. I couldn't eat. Nothing sounded good. Nothing tasted palatable. This would turn out to be a common theme throughout the day. I forced myself to eat a Clif Bar. I stuffed 4 Gus into my pockets.

I stepped outside to load the car and found everything cold, foggy, dark, and wet. Back inside for the chamois cream.

James struggled to get the Caution Bike Race and LOTOJA Support Crew signs taped to the inside of the car. I was too nervous to pay much attention. I kept looking around at the bikers pouring in to the starting area. Are they more prepared than I am? He's wearing a windbreaker. Am I dressed right? Is a vest going to be enough? Should I bring my full-fingered gloves? Should I head the line now, or do I have time to ride around the block a bit?

I ended up riding over to the line while James struggled with a wet window—wet on both sides. They were calling out the 1600's to line up. Plenty of time. I rode back to see James finishing up. Another rider forgot a pump and I needed to help him with mine. Am I missing anything? How much time do I have?

When James finished up, I had him hold my bike while I used a purple outhouse. I didn't know they made them in colors other than green and blue. They do.

The 1700's are starting to line up. I'm 1846. We're next. After a few parting words of encouragement, I ride away from James into the chaos of the assembling riders. Some have pretty nice bikes. Others not. How fast are these guys? Am I going to be able to find a group to stick with? Am I going to make it?

"1800's line up. 1 minute to go," says the announcer. "You need to finish this race by 8:30 or dark, whichever comes first. If you don't finish by then, train harder next year." I smile, but inside I'm still wondering which group I'll be in at the end of the day. James is over on the side taking pictures. I force a smile.

"About 25 seconds to go." She continues to give more details about the course. "Still pretty foggy out there, so be careful, but I imagine it will burn off soon." Music is blaring. I don't recognize the tune. I'm at the front with my wheel sitting right on the line. I guess I'm in a good position, but 15 groups have already left this morning. Would it even matter?

"Go! Everyone have a great ride!"

The Zero Hour

2006-09-08T11:06:00.000-06:00

Less than 24 hours.

I spent most of last night and some of this morning packing up for the ride. I have much more food than I need, but I suppose that is better than not having enough. It looks like it will be a cool day with lows in the 40s and highs in the 70s (that's Fahrenheit), so I am bringing a base-layer, arm-warmers, long-finger gloves, a skull-cap, a wind vest, and a waterproof jacket. It isn't supposed to rain, though.

I think I have all the right gear, and I think I have enough training miles in (though, just barely enough). I'll report back as to how prepared I really am.

Meanwhile, I have to go scrounge up some carbs.

Of My Love for Carbon

2006-09-07T14:18:00.000-06:00

1+ day to go.

Last night, while cleaning my bike and getting it prepared for the race, I got to take a nice close look at all the carbon. Especially with my rear wheel. It seems among the list of things I don't do well on my bike, I can add “lube” to the list. I seem to get an inordinate amount of lube splatter on those pretty carbon/aramid spokes. Also, spraying my chain with degreaser only seems to exacerbate the problem.

As a consequence, I got to take a nice close look at the various carbon parts of my bike. I have learned something about my love of carbon: It isn't entirely driven by the marketing of the bike industry.

Why I love Carbon
I love the un-even look of the fibers. I love that you can see around joints how the lay-up had to change. I love the natural look to it (as opposed to the machined, industrial look present in metal frames/parts). While cleaning the spokes on my wheels, I can feel/see that they aren't identical. Each spoke is unique. Much of what is done, is done by hand.

Besides appearance, I love the way carbon can actually be repaired. I love the way it has enormous fatigue life. I love the way it kills the road vibrations. I love that a frame manufacturer can tweak with the carbon to get totally different ride characteristics out of frames that look identical on the outside.

Calfee has a great whitepaper about why carbon is the perfect frame material.

Will all those fantastic qualities of carbon help me finish LOTOJA? They'd better, or I'm getting my money back.

With Fear and Anticipation

2006-09-06T13:32:00.000-06:00

2+ days to go.

I now have a very large list of items to bring with me for the ride. There are still food items I need to purchase, but I think I have everything else I need. Except about 1 month of additional time. Yeah, that might be nice.

The Countdown Continues

2006-09-05T12:54:00.000-06:00

Only 3+ days to go.
I woke up sick today.
This isn't a good sign.

Yesterday officially started my taper week, though some of you may have suspected I was tapering all summer. I only rode for 1 hour, and I kept my heart rate down to an average of 127bpm. It was a very relaxing and easy ride--despite the 94-degree weather. When I arrived at home, I felt about the same as before I left--except maybe a little bit sweatier. It was, after all, quite hot outside.

Riding at an easy pace like that reminded me of life before training. Or, even before that: Life before information. I remember the first time I was on a really nice road bike. There was no computer mounted so I had no idea how fast I was going. I just flew along without effort. These days, I keep an eye on my speed and average speed. I track my miles. I watch my heart rate very carefully. Sometimes, I think I spend way too much time worrying about how my riding will affect my overall preparedness for LOTOJA.

Yesterday, I rode just to have fun. My only goal was to make the ride not too long, and to keep my effort down. I was smiling the whole way. Instead of making sure I kept my average speed up, I just watched out for holes in the road. Instead of worrying about how far I was going and, as is often the case, how that distance compared to 206 miles, I looked around at the beautiful vistas.

Suddenly, I find myself without much stress about LOTOJA. Why? Because I know it is too late. Last week was like the last hour before a college exam. I was trying to cram in all I could. This week is like the last minute before the same exam. Too late to do any preparation. Either I'm doomed or I'll succeed. No matter what the outcome, though--and this is unlike the final exam--I know I'll be having fun.

Time for another Vitamin C.

An Announcement

2006-08-24T13:10:00.000-06:00

Even if everything goes wrong with my legs, I know I've got a solid crew for LOTOJA.

It's official now. James will be my support crew for LOTOJA!

A Bad Day

2006-08-24T13:06:00.000-06:00

Today was a bad day. I don't even know why.

Last night, I made sure to drink plenty of water. I was well-hydrated.

This morning, I got up and, as usual, had some yogurt. I brought some fig newtons (generic brand, which is why I didn't capitalize it). I brought a bottle of water and a bottle of Cytomax. I was wearing some really expensive Giordana bibs and jersey. I had my normal saddle back on (after many days of swapping saddles). Tires were filled. My wound has healed to the point that while on the bike (with nice, tight-fitting lycra), it doesn't bother me and I hardly notice it.

Everything was perfect.

Okay, I guess I can find some things might explain why today didn't go well. I have a FSA K-Wing handlebar. It is very comfy but the flat tops make mounting anything almost impossible. Because I was going for a longish ride before work (the Alpine Loop), I decided I couldn't wait for the sunrise and I'd get some lights on. I managed to jerry-rig the helmet mount for my handlebars. Here's the problem: after about 10 minutes of riding, I didn't need it anymore. (I got kind of a late start due to the lights. Ironic, no?) The rest of the time, it was just bulky, ill-fitting, dead-weight. I probably could have used a wind vest or arm warmers. It was cold up in the mountains.

It was a bad day. I was slow. I wasn't fluid. On the climbs, I kept feeling like I needed to stand up. Instead of using the momentum I gained by standing, I'd coast for about 1/2 second when I sat back down. This meant that I had to shift back down to the lower gears I was in before. On the downhills, I was slow and cautious. I was uncomfortable. My back hurt (something I haven't noticed for months). I was getting saddle-sore.

I think I can attribute some of this discomfort to a short ride I did last night (12.5 miles) in my street clothes. Also, I really pushed my legs last week with a mountain climb followed by a century. This is my first ride since (not counting last night's easy jaunt). Switching saddles around so much has made me used to no saddle.

Bad days come and go. Overall, they don't bother me. I know that the next ride will probably be better. They're just part of riding. Sometimes you can explain them, sometimes you can't. Here's my biggest concern: What if I have a bad day on September 9th? (That's LOTOJA, in case you didn't know.) What if I have a Stage 16?

15 days to LOTOJA.

A Confession

2006-08-23T14:39:00.000-06:00

I have been biking for many, many years. 25+ years, as far as I can tell. It began with a road bike in Indiana. After moving to Oregon, it became a mountain bike. For some reason, after that point, the mere thought of road biking was boring to me. I was young, then.

A few years ago, I bought my brother's Giant Cadex road bike. I didn't use it a lot, but it was fun. I was excited by how smooth it was and how fast I could accelerate. I felt fast, but not reckless--two things that always seemed to go together on the rocky trails near where I live. Something was brewing inside me.

Last year, I had the opportunity to review two Cannondales: the Prophet and the Synapse. Though both are great bikes, I couldn't help but be excited about the Synapse much more. Of course, my old Cadex was old and heavy and flexy compared to the light and nimble Synapse.

Whatever it was that changed inside me, it was dramatic. For the first time ever--even without a new road bike of my own--I was very dedicated to riding the trainer through the winter. As soon as registration opened up in the Spring, I registered for LOTOJA. I have barely been on my mountain bike all year. Every ride I do off-road is a sacrifice: I have to give up riding on the road.

How did this happen? When did I go from making fun of "roadies", to trying to become one.

Signs I've Become a Roadie:
10. Bib shorts. I love them. I have lots. Baggy shorts seem so big and bulky.
9. As I drive down the road, I no longer gaze up at the mountains, but pay attention to how smooth the road is, and how wide the shoulder is.
8. I start thinking about things in terms of kilometers, instead of miles.
7. Though a bit pudgy, I like my jersey's to fit a little tighter--I just can't stand the waste in aerodynamics of loose and floppy clothing. (This one is especially funny given my normal average speed is so slow.)
6. In general, I love to wear bibs and jerseys, and I don't even feel self-conscious in them. I'd wear them all the time, if I could. So comfortable. And handy with all those pockets in the back.
5. Why would I wear full-finger gloves?
4. I always wear a HRM on the bike.
3. I suddenly care about pro cycling, and day-dream of becoming one.
2. I got a road-rash, get this, on the road.
1. I shave my legs, and I think it is cool.

I truly didn't see it coming.

Down

2006-08-21T11:51:00.000-06:00

I am the worst descender in the world. I am really bad. One reason for this is my lack of cornering skills. I am not fluid around corners. I brake too late. I don't hold my weight in the right place. I'm jerky in my steering. I feel like this is something I need to work on.

There is a corner that I frequently take. I always think I can go faster than I do. It is an intersection with a light.

Last Thursday, while out on a mid-morning ride, I was heading toward that corner and the light turned green. This was my chance. I could take it fast and know that I had the lane. As I approached, I started to feather my brakes and reduce my speed. "Wimp," I said to myself, "You can take it faster than this." I didn't hit my brakes again on that corner.

Instead, I hit the ground.

As it turns out there is a flush and smooth metal grate on that corner. Also, as it turns out, my tires don't grip as well on that as on the pavement. I hit the ground hard with my right (inside) hip and slid across two lanes--still grateful that the light was green in my favor so I didn't have any cars running over me.

You'll be glad to read that my hip took almost all of the fall. There are some scratches on the brake levers, but my seat and the rest of my bike seem just fine.

I suppose, then, I'm being ungrateful to complain about the large wound on my hip.

Which reminds me. How can Lycra make it through a slide like that across pavement (and I wasn't even wearing these), while my skin UNDER THE LYCRA is totally removed? Also, where did it--the skin--go?

Not Today

2006-08-16T11:22:00.000-06:00

Today was the day. Well, actually, this week was the week. I have today off, and I was going to go on a long ride (100+ miles) today AND Saturday. Lots of miles=more prepared for LOTOJA.

My body has other plans.

I'm sick. Sore throat, headache, coughing, sneezing. You name it.

Instead of riding, then, I'm trying to beat this illness as fast as I can so I can get back in the saddle--though I don't know which saddle to get back into.

Any cure suggestions? Will sleeping all day help?

23 days until LOTOJA.

A Relief

2006-08-14T12:40:00.000-06:00

I know this is my third post today. I have excuse for my behavior.

I recently bought this saddle: Sella Italia SLK. It's a pretty nice looking saddle. Compared to my Aliante Gamma, it is about 70 grams lighter, too.

Before I go on to talk about the SLK, I want to mention how much I love the Aliante. The shape is nice. The saddle is soft, without being too mushy. Everyone who has been on my bike has commented on how comfortable this saddle is. From the moment I first sat down on this saddle, it has been one of my favorite ever.

However, it isn't--how should I put this--anatomically correct. Therefore, I decided on the SLK. I probably would have gone with Specialized, but I hate their saddles. Or, at least, I've never enjoyed sitting on any of the ones I've tried.

Thursday, the SLK arrived. But, due to to the Tour, I didn't have time to ride it until Saturday night. My first impressions went like this:

"I can tell this saddle is split down the middle. This padding is very firm. I think I'm really going to like this saddle."

After around 30 miles, I started to realize that, although there wasn't any, um, numbness, I was very uncomfortable. While pedaling, this wasn't as noticeable, but when I stopped pedaling, I felt like I needed to stand up and get off the saddle. That ride ended at 36 miles. It hurt.

Now, I'm fully aware that sometimes it takes some time to get used to a saddle. Heck, I've reviewed quite a few saddles. My experience as been, though, that if a saddle is this uncomfortable after a ride of this length, there might be no hope for honest-to-goodness comfort. That is, my body may grow accustomed to it, but I doubt I'll ever enjoy it.

I think I'll send it back to Performance.

What do you think? Am I jumping the gun, here? Should I give it another 50-60 miles? Anyone have any other saddle suggestions? I'd rather not kill my chances of having more children after riding all day in LOTOJA. Also, I'd rather not spend all 12 hours of it standing out of seething pain.

By the way: 25 days until LOTOJA

... and a Smile

2006-08-14T10:12:00.000-06:00

In case some people out there are wondering what the pros drink on rides like this, here's a picture of a bottle I picked up at the base of the climb where we saw the race pass. Keep in mind, it was the middle climb of the day (and the easiest). (Click on the image to get a larger view to see what I'm talking about.) We found quite a few bottles filled with this mysterious brown substance.

Photos from the Tour of Utah

2006-08-14T09:44:00.000-06:00

Watching the Tour of Utah on Saturday (stage 6) was awesome. Even though we got there early and had to wait a few hours, my children had a lot of fun. We listened to the radio while waiting to keep tabs on the race and plan for when they'd arrive. It was cool because they had Bob Roll anouncing it. As they headed up the Alpine Loop, one of the local anouncers commented on how he enjoyed climbing it. Bob said, "I'd have to be in the best shape of my life to enjoy a climb like this." Since I really like riding it, I thought that was pretty cool.

Unfortunately, in order to take some pictures, I probably didn't actually "see" as much as I could have without the camera. For instance, somewhere in the group of vehicles that passed, was Bob Roll. That would have been cool to see him.

(Side note on Bob Roll: Though I find him annoying while watching the Tour de France, He was far more interesting and informative than the local commentators. Also, he didn't once have to say "de" (pronounced DAY by Bob) and so didn't sound stupid.)

This is the main break--though there was one guy ahead of them.
I love the HealthNet car. Pretty cool.

Here is the peleton, complete with the yellow jersey there in 2nd.

This was the best part. My children loved cheering on the bikers. A few of them were really cool and smiled and waved at the kids. It was awesome!

The main group of bikes and cars as they passed and headed up to the summit. We were actually camped out at a flat section of the climb (there was a good place to park here).

Well, it was all over too quickly. We managed to pick up a couple water bottles on the way down the mountain as we followed the course they had taken. That was it, though.

I can't wait until next year.

A Mistake

2006-08-11T10:30:00.000-06:00

From the Tour of Utah site:

Stage 4
Race Start Time: 12:00 Noon
Finish Time: Approximately 3:50 PM to 4:30 PM

I made it on the mountain before 2:15--thinking that would give me plenty of time. As it turns out, I was wrong. In fact, I was behind the riders and only saw one person (the poor guy struggling up the mountain in last place) who was WAY behind the peloton.

Here's what I didn't pay attention to on the Tour of Utah site:

Distance: 112.5 Kilometers / 69.9 miles

I can't believe they gave them 4 hours to complete 70 miles. Heck, even I could do that. I blame the Tour of Utah folks.

The Good:

I got the afternoon off work.
I found out how to get to the Mt. Nebo loop--which I plan to ride soon.
I got a few discarded water bottles--including a Tour of Utah one and a Toyota-United team bottle.
I got my family excited enough for it, that we've decided to see Saturday's stage and skip my summer work party (that's a huge victory for me)

The Bad:

So close, but so far. I even wore my HealthNet jersey. All for naught.

Off to the Tour!

2006-08-10T11:25:00.000-06:00

Today is a good day. Today, I am finally going to take advantage of being so close to the Tour of Utah. I'm taking the afternoon off and heading up Mt. Nebo with my family to wait for the riders to come by. Though I've never been on it, I hear it is a killer climb. That's good, because I want them going as slow as possible when they go by. The ultimate for me would be if they toss their empty water bottles (bidons) my way. That'd be so cool.

I'm bringing my camera, too, so I hope to have some pictures to post here tomorrow.

Side Note:
I went on a flat 30 miler today. Avg was 19.35 mph. Nothing too exciting, but the fact that I felt fine the whole was was good.

The Pace Line

2006-08-09T13:20:00.000-06:00

Going fast with less effort is fun. In fact, if you can pull it off, I recommend always doing it. It is for this reason (and others, I'm sure, but this is the one that comes to mind right now) that I like nice things on bikes. I like to go fast. I like it taking less effort.

It turns out losing weight also helps you go fast with less effort, but losing the weight actually takes a lot of effort. Just consider that the next time someone suggests losing 10 lbs when all you want to do is buy a better bike or part.

But, this post isn't about weight loss.

Riding in a pace line--or for those day-dreaming types, a peloton--is another way to go faster with less effort. This is one of those phenomena that simply amazes me. It takes so much less effort to ride a bike behind someone (even just one person) than by yourself. I didn't even know I was creating such a useful wind draft behind me when I rode. It is as if you are cheating nature. "You call that wind?! I have a skinny cyclist in front of me. I am invincible!"

Saturday's long ride started out with a group ride. Now, besides the major benefit I've just mentioned of riding in a group, though, there are some drawbacks.

1. It is a bit nerve-wracking to ride really close to someone on a busy highway. I understand this anxiety will probably fade with time as I ride more often in a group, but it took some concentration to keep the proper distance behind the guy in front of me--not too short and not too long.

2. Which leads, of course, to the second negative to riding in a group. You have to watch the backside of another cyclist. I find that, at least in the group I was riding with, if I don't keep an eye on the person/bike in front of me, I'll either get too close or fall back too far. Also, in order to be informed of road hazards coming up, this is especially important. The riders in front have the obligation to, by making use of hand signals, inform the riders behind of potholes, glass, roadkill, etc. You don't want to miss those signs.

3. I don't get to look at the beautiful Utah countryside. This is really just a corollary to the previous one, but when looking down, you can't enjoy the world around you nearly as well. Fortunately, there are times when you can enjoy it. Namely, when you are in front. Of course, when in front, I spend a significant amount of time trying to keep up a pace that just moments earlier I found slow and tedious.

All negatives aside, there is something almost super-human about riding in a pace line. We did almost 50 miles with an average of 21 mph. I can't do that by myself. It was pretty cool.

That being said, the pack aerodynamics didn't make up for all of the gap between my normal average speed and this one. In other words, riding with a group forced me to ride harder than I would have on my own. Perhaps this should be number 4.

4. This isn't the pace I asked for.

There. Anyway, normally, I'd be fine with this, but on Saturday, I was in it for the long haul. That pace, even sheltered from the wind, was tough to do before adding another 70 miles on my own.

Why would I ever ride in a pace line, then? Well, with the right pace line, going the right speed, I could go much further. I could go further and faster. I could probably do 206 miles with a total average (including stops) of 16.5 mph. At least, that's what I'm counting on.

Sweat

2006-08-08T16:00:00.000-06:00

(If you are at all queasy or prone to being disgusted easily, skip over this post. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

I sweat so much. I mean, buckets aren't enough. While hiking on vacation in Oregon, the entire back side of me was dripping. Dripping, I tell you.

When cycling, though, it isn't just sweat I deal with. No, as if that weren't enough my body also produces copious amounts of snot while I ride. If the morning is at all brisk, I'm in real trouble.

Some Observations Related to My "Condition"
1. I think this contributes to my propensity to dehydrate while riding.
2. My gloves (the terry thumb/wipe) and helmet pads have reached what I like to call Terminal Physical Carrying Capacity (TPCC). When TPCC is reached, the originally-absorbent material can now no longer absorb anything.

TPCC Explained
When I first started to approach TPCC with my gloves and helmet pads, I wasn't sure if I had washed them in some time. Therefore, to restore what I thought would be the Normal Operating Absorbency (NOA) of the materials in question, I washed them.

This demonstrates the first, and perhaps easiest, way to tell the material has reached TPCC: No amount of washing can restore the material to NOA. In fact, once TPCC has really been reached (sometimes the actual point of reaching TPCC, or the TPCC Moment (TPCCM), is difficult to pin down), no amount of cleansing with any type of detergent/cleaner/stain remover can bring it back out of this state. Hence: Terminal. This has, in fact, been demonstrated time and again by independent labs.*

Another way to tell if you have reached TPCC, or even are approaching it, is by examining the fabric itself. Though this sometimes can be apparent by the discoloration of the material, it is most obvious by feel.

For instance, currently, when I wipe either a) my nose, or b) my brow, the end result is similar to to wiping these same areas with 60-grit sandpaper. That is: it hurts. Also, this quality of TPCC materials has also been studied at some length at the university-level.**

A Conclusion to This Horrible Treatise
As it turns out, both my gloves and my helmet were designed with other uses in mind. Because of this, I am not quite ready to throw them away/burn them/blast them into outer space. Presumably, my helmet would still protect my head in a crash. Same goes with my gloves--well, except they wouldn't protect my head, but my hands--unless, of course, by putting out my hands, I prevent my head from hitting any object and thereby protect my head as well. In the spirit of using it until it wears out, I will, therefore, continue to use my gloves and my helmet.

* This isn't true. No tests have been performed.
** Wrong again. No such study has ever even been dreamed up by so much as a drunken frat boy.

An Ill Omen

2006-08-05T18:40:00.000-06:00

True to my goal, I went on a LONG ride today. Also, as part of my plan I rode with the local velo club. The ride with the velo club went really well. It was a lot of fun, and we made really fast time. That was about 48 miles, and we averaged 21 mph. I was even happy that I was able to hang with the faster half on all of the climbs.

Unfortunately, I think that was too fast of a speed for me--even in a paceline. However, I was determined to ride on and make a long ride of it (with a few climbs mixed in).

All in all, I rode 122.5 miles. My moving average was about 17.5 mph, but it took me about 8 hours (including stops). The careful mathematician will discover that my overall average was a paltry 15.3 mph (if I remember correctly). (For those that don't remember, I need to maintain 16.5 mph for LOTOJA. Ugh.)

Even more disappointing: I'm so exhausted. Even now--4 hours later--I can barely move.

I'll give more details of the ride when I have more energy.

Squaw Peak: In the Evening

2006-08-02T10:09:00.000-06:00

Yesterday morning, as you ought to know, left me without a ride. I was sad, but not undaunted. I was determined to get a ride in.

Accordingly, in a whirlwind of bath time and dinner time and reading, I got the children to bed and got on my bike to hit the open road. It was around 7:40 pm. Here are some observations about that ride.

Observation 1
It gets dark earlier than it used to. I can't mount lights on my road handlebars (these) because of the flat tops--a nice feature most of the time. As a consequence, I was in a BIG hurry to finish the ride before dark. I almost made it, if you count dusk as being "before dark."

Observation 2
Gun Shots everywhere. As it turns out, there are a number of places for shooting along the road. For some deranged reason, I never got tired of feigning like I got hit after every report. I only stopped because it was taking too much energy.

Observation 3
Squaw peak is much busier in the evening than in the morning. Squaw Peak faces west and is quite a popular spot for couples. Luckily, I was wearing the Road ID--not a single close call.

Observation 4
New tires make a difference. After too many miles and too many flats on the Vittoria Rubino Pros, I mounted some Hutchinson Top Speeds (a good training tire with a anti-puncture belt). These felt really nice in the turns.

It was a great ride. I actually was able to push myself with a heart-rate higher than 170 the whole way up (about 31 minutes). The weather yesterday was cool--I think it was in the 70s when I left on my ride. Though I wanted to make better time up the hill, I kept up a much faster pace than usual. ("Much," in this case, is relative.) In fact, instead of being in the lowest gear the whole way up, I was able to shift up a gear for around 60-70% of the time.

The Fates Work Together (Again)

2006-08-01T11:05:00.000-06:00

With eager anticipation I got my bike ready for the ride this morning. I fixed the flats in my spare tubes. I put new tires on my bike (Hutchinson Top Speed). I grabbed another 16gm CO2 and stuffed it in my seat pack as well.

Having planned on a long-ish ride, I wanted everything ready so I could get out the door quickly. Consequently, I gathered all my clothes. I filled two water bottles. I found my HRM chest strap (with a newly installed battery, I might add).

I went to bed. It was a little late (11:30pm) for the time I planned to wake up (5:00am), but I was excited to ride.

At some point during the night, my phone woke me up to tell me (via text message) that one of our servers was crying for help. Obligingly (because I value my job), I woke up and fixed it. After being thoroughly awakened, I then struggled to get back to sleep for the next 30 minutes or so.

At some later point in the night, a child of mine woke me up because of a leg cramp or some other such thing. This required me to be awake long enough to encourage said child back to sleep.

I was worried about the morning, but I figured getting up that early was nothing I couldn't handle.

Then, when I woke up, I noticed something different in the air. Something humid. (Please keep in mind, I live in a desert.) I checked outside and there were a few sprinkles here and there.

"Nothing to worry about," I told myself. "I'm sure this is all there's going to be. After all, the ground isn't even wet."

I proceeded to go about my pre-ride routine. The rain continued.

In fact, continued would imply that it was doing the same as before. It was not. Now, it was a downpour.

I screamed out--in my head of course, don't want to wake the little lady--"You've won this time, evil fates!"

I went back to bed. Defeated.

Of My Ride Today

2006-07-29T20:25:00.000-06:00

To the guy on the mountain bike
1) Don't ride on the sidewalk
2) When you decide to leave sidewalk, it's a good idea--even if there aren't cars on the road, which there were--to look behind you. You might find another person there. Like me, for instance.
3) Thanks to you, I know better just how great Dura Ace brakes are.

To the person in the Huge pickup truck
1) You can't turn faster than probably 15mph with your truck lifted so high; I was going 25mph.
2) Your truck actually extends further back than you.
3) You almost cost me my life because of your selfish stupidity in turning into me and pinning me between your expensive rig--that's right, I said rig--and the curb.
4) Your extremely loud diesel truck makes more noise when you speed up. Therefore, I know that you had to go out of your way to almost kill me.
5) Thanks to you, I know better just how great Dura Ace brakes are.

To the person in the Dodge Neon
1) If your going to turn, please use your turn signal. I don't know what you're thinking.
2) Though I'm required by law to be on the road, I can't ride in the lane, so it is always possible to have a bicycle next to you.
3) Thanks to you, I've learned to not pass cars approaching the intersection on their left.
4) Thanks to you, I know better just how great Dura Ace brakes are.

Where would I be without my Road ID?
If you go to the Road ID website, you can read testimonials of people saved because those who arrived at the scene of an accident were better able to help them. However, I have discovered another property of the Road ID. It protects me.

Let me explain.

Since receiving it on Father's Day this year, I have always worn it. Every ride. However, I didn't wear it today. I hope you see the correlation because it is obvious to me.

My Training Begins, In Earnest

2006-07-28T15:04:00.000-06:00

Sometimes fear is a good motivator. I have been in fear of my ability to complete (in the time required) LOTOJA for quite a few months now. I've been riding more than I ever have in my entire life. In fact, I'd say I'm in better shape than ever.

Unfortunately, with just over a month to go, I haven't met many of my training goals I set. For instance, I had planned to do a number of centuries this summer. I did only one in the Spring. I had also planned to do many rides at least 100 miles in length with some surpassing that. So far, only that century has met that goal.

One ride is not enough.

Time to Really Start
To start with, I will no longer do any "normal" rides. All my short rides will be either intervals, hill work, or both. This will help me build up as much muscle as possible in the short time left. Of course, I'll have to taper the last few weeks, but for now this is the plan.

Also, I need to get in more LONG rides. This will be hard as a few of my weekends are already spoken for between now and then. These rides should be at LEAST 6 hour rides. Hopefully 8. (Time permitting, of course. I still have to teach my oldest to ride without training wheels.)

Group rides. As tkp suggested in some comments previously (was it on my blog, or his?), I really need to start riding with the local group. For starters, this will show me where I'm at--strength wise. Also, I need to practice riding in a big group (particularly in a pace-line) so I can hang with one in LOTOJA. I'm NOT riding that one solo.

Other Things to Plan For
I also need to plan out nutrition. I've been doing some of this already, but I need to work with it on those long rides better so I know what to plan for. This includes pre-ride meals and such.

Thanks to GearReview.com, I'm working on a comparative review of bib shorts. Hopefully, I'll know which is most comfortable and use that one for LOTOJA.

Am I forgetting anything?

Don't Store Energy Gel in a Seat Pack

2006-07-28T14:42:00.000-06:00

I thought it would be a great place to keep an extra gel. I mean, it would always be there, stoically guarding against the bonk that might sneak up unawares. In that regard, in fact, it might be a good idea.

What I didn't plan for was this: Those little foil packets are NOT indestructible. In fact, even in the somewhat protected environment of a seat pack they can rupture.

It is amazing the damage that can be done in such a small, closed environment. Although it is nice and soft just when you open the packet to eat it, it doesn't stay that way once exposed to the elements. In fact, it turns hard--yet sticky. One might describe it as taffy-like.

Needless to say--though I will say it--I won't be carrying any emergency stashes of energy gel in my seat pack any longer.

Blood Doping and Altitude

2006-07-27T17:19:00.000-06:00

Not everyone I'm friends with is into cycling. I'm trying to change that--not by getting new friends, but by educating my current ones. As of late, it is easy to talk about cycling with everyone. That is, with the Tour de France and all, even those who don't own a bike end up reading about it.

Just before the start of the TdF, there was a big doping bust. It was alleged that cyclists were transfusing blood. Mostly, people ask me about Lance Armstrong, but in this case, many people asked me why anyone would do this. I will explain:

Basically, they were getting extra red blood cells. Extra red blood cells means they can carry more oxygen. This is good for endurance events.

Interestingly enough, living at a high altitude accomplishes the same thing. They actually make "Tents" that mimic high altitudes. If you sleep in one, your body will start to produce more red blood cells.

After that long--and somewhat off-topic--introduction...
I live at around 5000'. My brother, James, lives at around 200'. I really didn't think this would make much difference, but I found out otherwise last week.

Back in Oregon (James' altitude), we decided to climb a mountain that was quite daunting when we were young. As it turns out, it is still not easy. It was about 2500' of climbing in about 5 or so miles (the exact numbers escape me at the moment). There we were, grinding up a very steep bit of road, pushing the lowest gear we could. My legs were tired.

Out of nowhere, James asks, "What's your heart rate?" I look down, and to my surprise, it is only around 145. In case this means nothing to you, let me say that here in Utah, it'd be more like 165. I was shocked.

James could only reply, "You high-altitude blood doper!"

Yet Another One About Climbing

2006-07-26T12:26:00.000-06:00

What is it about me and climbing. I mean, it hurts. It almost always hurts. Why, then, do I enjoy it so much?

Here's something I find odd: I ride alone in the mornings so sometimes I don't have the will to get out of bed to ride at all. On the other hand, when I'm climbing a hill, I can't seem to stop. It is easier for me to skip riding than to wimp out on a climb.

If I am alone on a hill, and my legs are burning, will I stop to rest, or turn around? I will not.

There is something in a hill that draws me to the top. I am able to accept defeat in many forms, but I can't live with myself if I didn't make it to the top.

Today's ride started out with me thinking I wanted to just go somewhere flat. Not only did I end up doing a lot of super-steep-but-short hills, I actually remember thinking, "I'm only going to go to the half-way point on this climb. My legs are just too tired." And then, like all the other rides, I just kept going. Almost like I was in a dream--a painful one--until I awoke to find myself cresting the top. (And that wasn't even my final climb for the ride.)

I wish I could be so driven in every aspect of my life.

A Hard Return

2006-07-25T14:53:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry for being away. I was on vacation and, though I brought my computer with me, I couldn't bring myself to turn it on. I spend most of my life in front of one, yet I really don't miss it at all when it's gone.

I brought my Synapse out to Oregon (my Vacation spot) with me, and left my mountain bike. (I only had room for one.) I really didn't plan on doing a whole lot of off-roading, though that's two-thirds of the riding I ended up doing. Lucky for me, I could borrow my Dad's Cannondale F4000.

Now, normally, I'd be against the idea of riding a hard-tail. However, this isn't any hardtail. Though it is about 8 years old, it is loaded with top stuff--components that even today are high-end. About the only drawback was the fork's travel--70mm just seems so little to me these days. On the flip side, he's running Spinergy Spox wheels. These have massive carbon hubs and some sort of composite (or, at least, non-metal) spokes. They are super light and ride really well. Loaded up with the biggest tires we could fit so I could run low-pressure (each weighing around 1000 grams), this bike still came in under 25lbs. (When I later rode with his light-weight tires, it was under 23, I'm guessing. And that was with a computer mounted!)

Before I go much further, I want to point out that I know there are lots of amazing trails in Utah. I really know that. I know that not all trails in Utah are nasty rocky messes. That's fine.

However, those closest to my home and the ones I end up riding most often are very rocky. This, also, isn't necessarily bad, though I sometimes tire of it.

The North Umpqua Trail
There is a trail in Oregon that follows the North Umpqua river. This trail is aptly named. It is 77 miles of incredible single track. It is probably one of the most beautiful places on earth. I got to ride this trail on Saturday.

I actually didn't want to ride it. I wanted to do another road ride. The temperature, though, was around 106 and very humid, so we decided riding in the shade of the Umpqua forest would make things nicer. The section that was picked was probably the smoothest section of the whole trail. It was windy. It had many bridges over streams, and smaller streams that weren't bridged. There were rocks. There were roots. Neither of these in extremely large quantities. There was a lot of climbing.

In short, it was the perfect ride for a light-weight hardtail. I was in heaven. Although we ended up doing about 4500' of climbing in 12 miles, I stayed in my middle chainring for about 80% of that. Right then and there, I started trying to work out in my mind how I could 1) obtain this bike and 2) move to Oregon--preferably somewhere near this trail so I could ride it all the time.

Mary's Peak
The other trail I rode was up in the mountains outside of Corvallis. The ride was Mary's Peak. Although the area was breath-taking, I was glad to have the huge tires (mentioned above). This trail was extremely technical. Which, by the way, is a lot of fun when on a hard-tail. Or rather, when on a hard-tail for the first time in years. Once again, riding in Oregon was incredible. I wish Oregon were closer.

Future Plans
I am no longer content to let my fully-rigid commuter remain that way. I think I'll put my Manitou Black 100/120 (which is currently just collecting dust) on it. After that, I might see if I can scrounge up a front-deraileur. I had so much fun on that f4000, I want to capture some of that fun for myself.

Mystery:Solved or Open Your Eyes, Man!

2006-07-10T09:33:00.000-06:00

I have no excuses as to why I didn't see this before. Though I act like I love bikes, clearly, if I hadn't scoured every inch of the bike with my eyes, I don't. I am ashamed.

This picture is of the back of the stem.

Cannondale SystemSix

2006-07-08T21:45:00.000-06:00

This afternoon, the Cannondale rep stopped by and dropped off a SystemSix. This model is the Dura Ace version with a carbon compact crankset. He plans to get a SRAM-equiped System6 in the future, so I'll be able to tell you then more what it is like with the SRAM.

I could tell the rep was really excited about this bike, because he took the liberty to change the parts around just a little bit. For instance, though it comes stock with the Arione, he likes the Aliante better and happened to have one that matched really well. I love the Aliante (and ride one on my personal bike), so I didn't mind the change. Also, he couldn't help puting Michelin tires on because of the red stripe on the sidewall. Normally, it comes stock with Hutchinsons.

Other things of note in the pictures below:
Carbon brakes by Cannondale? Well, perhaps like the stem and crankset, the brakes are manufactured by someone else, but they are carbon, and they do have the Cannondale name printed on them.

Also, the bulky thing on the handlebar is the rep's GPS mount. As I only will have this bike until Thursday (I'm going on vacation then. Don't worry, I'll get an extended test when I get back.), I'm not going to bother taking it off.

The wheelset is the Mavic Ksyrium ES. These are beautiful wheels that deliver a solid ride. I'm hoping to swap them out with my topolinos, so I can get a better frame of reference on the handling of the frame itself.

No, I haven't been on it yet, but I will post something when I can.

I still think this stem looks a bit bulbous.

The massive head tube.

Evidently, this is the largest down tube Cannondale has ever made. That's saying something.

To Pedal

2006-07-06T17:36:00.000-06:00

It has always bothered me that the Eggbeater is considered a mountain pedal. I mean, it is light and--dare I say--svelte. They look small and spindly--kind of like a high-end road bike. I am now in the process of reviewing some Shimano 105-level (No, I don't have the code-name Shimano numbering memorized.) pedals. Paired with these are some nice Shimano shoes. (I know they're nice, because the sole is carbon and they are so very stiff. Also, I don't remember the model number and I'm too lazy to look it up.)

The shoes are very stiff. The pedals are solid. When I clip in, there is no mistaking it.

When I get on my mountain bike, I suddenly feel sorry for my Eggbeaters. I mean, they're fantastic pedals, but the engagement seems so half-hearted in comparison. I almost feel like I pity them. "Don't worry little guys, you do just fine. See, my feet are totally attached (even if I can't tell without pulling on them)."

On the other hand, I don't really think before stepping/clipping into my Eggbeaters. For my Shimanos, though I'm getting better, I generally actually have to be looking at the pedal. Also, I often miss the wonderful float with the Eggbeaters (oft-times exaggerated by a worn cleat).

I won't go further (after all, I have a review to write), but here is what I've learned:

The Eggbeaters make a great mountain pedal.
On a road bike, Road pedals are best.

Gummy

2006-07-05T17:05:00.000-06:00

I went on a great ride yesterday. It was similar to the hard ride on Saturday. This time, it was longer. Of course, this time, I rode it in the morning, so it wasn't 95 degrees outside. As it turns out, that makes a big difference.

It all started with the Tour of Utah. The last stage of this year's course will, among other climbs, go over the Alpine Loop and then over Suncrest (what I did Saturday). Those two climbs combined equal around 6000' of climbing--that is, if you turn around in draper and head south back over Suncrest. I wondered if I could do it.

This, by the way, demonstrates how bad road rides don't seem to alter my goals or ambitions for more than a few minutes. On Saturday, I barely survived Suncrest alone. Yesterday, I thought it'd be a good idea to add the Alpine Loop to that.

Instead of being cheap with the nutritional/energy supplements I brought along, I decided my primary objective would be to arrive at the end of the ride feeling good. Tired, but good. I brought (and consumed) 1 package of Clif Shot Bloks, 2 GUs, 1 Carb Boom, 1 Balance Bar, 4 bottles of Elete water and 1 Bottle of Cytomax. Actually, I didn't bring that many bottles with me, but I brought Elete with me and used it whenever I stopped to refill my bottles.

Before leaving, I estimated it would take me 5 hours, but I didn't really believe it. I figured I'd bonk really bad like Saturday, and yet still try and complete it.

I was right about the 5 hours. I was wrong about bonking.

Starting out, I made a conscientious goal to not push myself too fast. As I said before, my main goal was to finish, and finish without dying. I started out in the morning, so it was cool. I felt great as I climbed Alpine Loop. I've never seen so many cyclists on that road, but it was a holiday. I made it to the top, slammed a energy gel, and started down without any stopping. I wanted to beat the rush of all the traffic that was inevitable in American Fork Canyon, but because I got a late start, it was already after 8 am when I started down. The cars were nice, though, and made room for me. Top speed was 49mph.

Aside: Tour of Utah and the roads
IF the tour of Utah is going over that road, they'd really better step it up a notch. There were no fewer than three sections of gravel instead of pavement on hairpin corners. C'mon guys! Time to re-pave, wouldn't you say? I leave poor road conditions as my excuse for not taking the downhill any faster.

When I reached Alpine, I had a planned stop in a park to fill up my water bottles (adding Elete, of course. I wasn't about to set myself up for a bonk again). With two newly filled water bottles, I was off on my way up Suncrest.

Here is where I decided to use Clif Shot Bloks while riding. Here are my impressions: Though easier to chew/let dissolve/swallow than Jelly Belly Sport Beans (Blok: 1, Sport Bean: 0), it still took more work than energy gel. On the other hand, I liked that I could string out my energy consumption along the hill up Suncrest. Every few minutes, I would just pop a Blok in and slowly work on it. Also, they didn't leave my mouth as sticky as Sport Beans (Blok: 2, Sport Bean: 0).

When I got to the top of Suncrest, I was tired. At that point, I'd done almost 4500' of climbing. The day had warmed up considerably. On the other hand, I didn't feel dehydrated at all. Nor did I feel my legs were spent. Down I went.

Here is the point where I reached the absolute fastest speed I've ever gone on a bike. Also, I did it without noticing it. Sure, I was tucked a bit, but I figured I was still in the upper 40's when I looked down to discover: 55.6mph. Wow.

Aside: Synapse
I really love my Synapse. It is darn light. It is comfy. Super stiff. I love the feel of the Topolino wheels. They are stiff and light, yet they smooth out the ride noticeably. Also, as I learned on this ride, I like the way my Synapse is stable at speed.

When I turned around and headed up the hard part of Suncrest (the North side), I found that I was tired. I really was. My legs were tired. I was tired.

BUT, I wasn't that tired. I watched the time tick by. I watched the miles crawl by. I passed a few people. (One of which was gone when I looked back. I still wonder if I was hallucinating, though I didn't feel as fatigued as all that.)

The ride back was fairly anti-climatic. I stopped at the same park in Alpine and refilled both bottles again. I took it easy going home, though I did manage to bring my average speed up a little bit. (With that much climbing, though, you really shouldn't expect much of me.) I climbed that last little hill (steep, but short) up to my street. I went inside.

At this point, you might expect me to say I crashed on the floor when I went inside. I'm sorry, but I didn't. In fact, I felt great. Really, really great. My legs were a little tired, but I felt like I could've gone on.

Aside: Gummies
I've decided that I really like the gummy form of energy. I like that when I finished the Clif Shot Bloks, I didn't have a disgusting gooey wrapper to store somewhere. (Don't EVER throw these on the ground.) They are, however, a bit pricey. I like James' suggestion to use fruit snacks instead. They are much, MUCH cheaper, though you miss out on the Sodium and Potassium that the Clif Bloks have. I might have to give them a try, though.

Eventually, the cycling world is going to have to come up with a name to call this form of energy supplement. We've had energy gels and energy drinks. I give you: Energy Gummies! Please, Performance, Nashbar, Colorado Cyclist, etc., make the appropriate changes to your catalogs.

Sport Beans

2006-07-03T10:47:00.000-06:00

I really like Jelly Bellys. They're delicious. As such, I really was excited to read about the contents of their Sport Beans. They look as good, or better than a typical packet of energy gel. They were on sale at Target. I bought some.

On Saturday, I headed out for what would turn out to be a hard, hot 56-mile ride. (Though quite steep in sections, it only had about 2450' of climbing. Did I do a good job making it sound like that is easy for me?) Along with a couple packets of energy gel, a Balance bar, and a full bottle of Cytomax, I brought Orange Sport Beans. I used them well before I got to the climbing part of the ride.

Observations
I use energy gel because it is quick energy AND I don't have to chew. From the moment I put the first Sport Bean into my mouth, this realization hit me--and the feeling continued to grow. When it comes down to it, I'd rather it if all my calories I take in during a ride came in a liquid or semi-liquid (gel) form. I bring energy bars because they provide lots more calories per dollar and become a necessity on extended rides.

Sport Beans aren't as messy as gels, by a long shot. I really don't like the way gels are dispensed. I find it difficult to "eat" them without making a mess on my fingers. Also, I never feel like I'm getting all the contents of the packet--a theory proved by the mess in my jersey pocket when I get home and throw away the "empties." On the other hand, you're more likely to drop a Sport Bean while riding than you were to drop a dollop of gel.

I really wanted to like Sport Beans. Energy-wise, they are great. Plus, I get to eat my favorite jelly beans in the world (aside from regular Jelly Bellys). Unfortunately, I breathe too hard (or work to hard) when riding to enjoy the chewing--or even to be able to just ignore it. If I actually stopped to take a break and eat, I'd prefer Sport Beans to gels.

I have one more package, and I intend to suck on these and let them dissolve as a test to see if they work well that way. Watch out for a cyclist choking on the side of the road tomorrow.

Fiction

2006-07-03T10:45:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry, I hope I didn't lead anyone astray. The previous post was fiction--except for climbing the hill and thinking someone was behind me. My thoughts run wild when I climb, and that story just popped into my head.

The Legend of Squaw Peak

2006-06-29T20:32:00.000-06:00

It was a normal morning. Clear. Warm. Windy. I was doing a climb I used to hate, but have grown to love: Squaw Peak. As usual, that first corner seemed steeper than I remembered, but past that I had settled into a nice groove and was feeling strong.

About 1/3 of the way up the climb, 4 large crows started cawing at me and circling around overhead. Perhaps this would be seen as an ill omen, but I was in too good of spirits to think much of it.

Further up--say 2/3 of the way--I heard something behind me just as I was rounding the corner. I glanced back over my shoulder and barely caught sight of another cyclist. Instantly, I lost sight of him/her. The only thing I remembered was the light-blue jersey he/she was wearing.

Flashback 30 Years (Or so they say...)
Jimmy was no Italian-born super-star, but what he lacked in heritage, he made up for in determination. There wasn't a hill surrounding Utah Valley that he didn't know--and know better than anyone else. Squaw Peak was a challenging climb back then, also, though made more so by its lack of pavement. The alpine loop wasn't completed yet, though he spent his fair share riding up "Sundance Mountain". He knew every pebble, every turn, every incline.

When the local club set up the Squaw Peak hill climb event, Jimmy was there, lined up with the rest of the local hopefuls--some from as far away as Fruita. The gun went off, and Jimmy quickly moved off the front. There wasn't a soul there that day that could compete with Jimmy.

As years rolled on, and the race became an annual event, no one could ever touch Jimmy. The next closest time in this 4.5 mil climb was 20 seconds back.

Three years after the start of the race came the end of Jimmy's reign--though not in any way that even his competitors wished. Due to heart complications (some say it was a heart attack) he fell over--only a half-mile from the top.

All the racers were in disbelief. No one even rode past as the medical crew tried to revive him. That was the last Squaw Peak hill climb. Those many years have passed and the road is now nicely paved, no one would dare hold another race there. For one, too many people remember all too well the events of that fateful day. For another, others are too superstitious.

You see, ever since then, they say Jimmy still rides the slopes of Squaw Peak. Challenging anyone who attempts it. They say he can be seen wearing a light blue jersey, riding his old Raleigh.

Fast Forward to today
Though I'm getting much better at Squaw Peak, if I encounter people climbing it, they usually pass me. I didn't want that to happen today. Before every turn, I would glance back to see how close this cyclist was. I upped the pace. I was not going to get passed today! I felt too strong, too in-the-zone. Over and over again I glanced back to see if I could spot that cyclist gaining on me. I never did.

Finally, I stood up and sprinted (as fast as I could) the final half-mile of the climb. As I paused to catch my breath, I turned and looked for anyone coming up after me. I was surprised to find no one. Not a soul.

Triumphantly, I thought I must have picked up the pace too much for my follower. Perhaps they even gave up and turned around. As I thought this, however, the wind picked up around me and I swear I heard laughing in it. I shook off the feeling, and the wind passed. I looked forward to waving to him/her on my way down--only I never saw anyone.

Some say Jimmy still rides the slopes of Squaw Peak. They say it was his favorite. They say he is there to prevent anyone else from riding it--a sort of selfish hell that binds him there. For me, I know what he did for me: He pushed me that much harder up the hill. He's still there, all right, but just when he needs to pass on some of this iron will and determination.

Pressure!

2006-06-26T13:38:00.000-06:00

It has been a long time since I've been on my mountain bike, the Jekyll. There are many factors that contributed to this lapse. I will name only two:

1) Bad timing of a broken spoke. It broke right as work was getting really really busy, and then winter hit. I got the spoke fixed, but there was too much snow to ride at that time.

2) I got my new Synapse. I rode said Synapse whenever the weather turned nice. The more I rode it, the more I forgot about my beloved Jekyll.

Recently, it started to really get under my skin. I've been craving the trails and the Jekyll. I find myself staring up at the mountains with no idea as to the trail conditions.

Actually over a month ago, when it first started to hit me, I bled my brakes in eager anticipation of returning to the trail, but it didn't go so well. In fact, they ended up worse than when I started. (Note to those that might think of asking me wrenching advice: I'm no good.) I ran out of time, and didn't have more time to return to it until last week. I finally got the brakes set up, the shocks pumped up, and checked that everything else was working properly.

Then I headed out.

Besides the handlebars were too wide and the seat the wrong shape something else was wrong. I couldn't seem to get the grip I wanted. Mostly, I attributed this to being accustomed to pavement. It hadn't been that long, though. I mean, I remembered much better control off road. I didn't remember bouncing all over. After-all, I've got about 5" of suspension--front and rear.

The problem is that it was starting to mess with my mind. I mean, I've never been an outstanding rider, but I was riding really bad.

Suddenly, it occurred to me, "I pumped up my tires to 30 psi before starting. I NEVER run my tires that high." I think all that high-pressure road riding has altered my sense of right and wrong in tire pressures. I promptly dismounted, let out a TON of air, and got back on my bike.

That was it. No more bouncing. Traction and control were much improved. Everything started coming back. Everything felt just right.

I love mountain biking.

Playin' the Slots

2006-06-22T12:48:00.000-06:00

The only difference between the soda machines at work and slot machines is this: the soda machines don't have a lever to pull.

For instance, both require the deposit of a quarter (which is actually pretty darn cheap for a soda machine). Both can either a) give you nothing in return, b) give you something, but not something you want or c) what you wanted. I figure the only way to come out ahead, same as with the slot machines, is to keep my quarter.

Also, I read somewhere that carbonation does something bad to your ability to exercise well. I realize that statement tells you nothing, but I don't remember much of what I read. It might have been VO2max or something. I'm not sure. The way I see it, though, it is an easy way to help my poor cycling prowess.

That was a long introduction to this bit about caffeine:
Today, in an attempt to get water, a co-worker of mine bought Vault. Vault, in the words of the packaging, "Drinks like a soda, kicks like an energy drink." For starters, I've never had an energy drink that kicked. Since he was offering, I decided to give it a try.

"Drinks like a soda" means "contains carbonated water." I let it sit out and flatten.

Quickly after starting to drink it I realized that, unlike my energy drinks, Vault contains caffeine. I say quickly, because caffeine starts working the instant it enters my mouth for me. I think this is partly due to how little I intake of it. It also lasts forever. Because I want to sleep tonight, I need to make sure I finish this before 3 PM. I'm not kidding. This is always the case unless I am driving across country. In that case, it has no effect on me, except to make me need to use the restroom every 15 minutes.

Incidentally, I can't understand why, while exercising, I'd want to take in caffeine. I mean, going to the bathroom on a ride can be darned inconvenient. And yet, it is an additive in many energy gels.

I avoid these.

I've decided that the label of Vault should read: "Kind of like Mtn. Dew in appearance and strangely similar in flavor (Made by Coca-Cola)."

RoadID

2006-06-20T16:42:00.000-06:00

For Fathers Day, I got a RoadID identification wrist band. (Despite my daughter saying so, it ISN'T a bracelet.) I was really excited to get it. I'm not quite sure why, though.

Way back when, I used to leave my wallet in my car when I went mountain biking. (Note to thieves: I no longer do this. Please don't break my windows. You'll only be disappointed.) At some point, I realized that if I died, it would be nice if they could identify me more quickly. I think I have mentioned before that I most often ride by myself.

More recently, I've started carrying only a photo ID (drivers licence) and my insurance card with me. Also, I mostly ride on the road. It is a curious fact that, since I started leaning to the road side of biking--er, cycling--I've realized that "accidents" on a road bike would be more likely to leave me unidentifiable. Ewww.

Okay, let me see if I can make this blog a little more cheery today. Anyway, the plus side of having some important information on a reflective band around my wrist is that I no longer have to cannibalize my wallet before each ride. Did I mention it is reflective. An added bonus.

There seems to be something fundamentally wrong, however with feeling the need to take such precautions while doing my "having-fun" hobby. (Reminds me of a Seinfeld bit.) I suppose wearing a helmet is the same principle--I'm just used to it after years and years of wearing one. Besides, wearing a helmet doesn't ONLY acknowledge that what I'm doing is dangerous, but it also actually PREVENTS injury.

Well, either way, riding a bike is dangerous (mostly because of cars), so now I have something that will prevent me from carrying around miscellaneous cards from my wallet and they'll still be able to identify my carcass and call my wife to let her know.

Expectations and Reality

2006-06-19T13:07:00.000-06:00

On Friday, my wonderful wife said: "You'll have to go on a long ride tomorrow. I haven't wrapped any of your Fathers Day presents." I was ecstatic.

Immediately, I began to think of potential rides to go on. I decided I wanted to do miles, not climbs, so I planned out a ride that would head south and west--out to the farming communities near west mountain. My goal was 80 miles, so I figured I'd ride 40, and then turn around. Even in it's remoteness, I knew of at least one park, at the 25 mile mark, with drinking water, so I was certain I'd be fine. (Am I making it too obvious?)

On Saturday, I started getting ready around 11 (by eating and drinking) and was heading out around noon. As I left, I told her I planned on only being gone 4 hours. At that point, my incredible wife said, "I won't expect you before 5, but call if you're going to be late so I don't worry." As far as I was concerned, that could well have been my Fathers Day present.

Perspective
My perspective of rides has certainly changed this year. 80 miles? That's far, right? With LOTOJA always in the back of my mind while riding, somehow it doesn't seem that far.

That is, until I'm near the end. Then it seems really far. The weird thing is that later that day, I felt fine--except my back.

Side Note: My Back
Because of some saddle situations I notice on long rides, I started shifting things around on this ride. First, I tilted the saddle nose-down. Then, I really felt too close to the bars, so I slid the saddle back a bit.

I left it there.

Until about mile 65.

At that point, I really started to notice that my back was hurting. A lot. Then, I slid my seat forward to the original position, though I tried to maintain the angle. I'm not sure if accomplished this. My back really hurt the rest of the ride due to my weird riding position for the previous half. In fact, when I got home, ONLY my back hurt. The next day, when my legs are often a little stiff after a long ride: fantastic. My back: Well, actually my back started to feel better. You're missing the point, though. The point is that it hurt A LOT for about 20 miles, and 3 hours after the ride.

Where was I? Oh yeah:

Reality
This morning, I got the special treat to ride because my wife wasn't getting up in the morning to exercise (her friend bailed on her). (I normally take Tues., Thurs, Sat.) I decided to do Squaw Peak. This isn't a long ride, but the climb itself is steep. It isn't a long climb, in fact, but it is quite steep. Normally, I cry out in pain the whole way, and curse those that paved the road for the last 1/4 mile (which is even steeper).

Today, however, I felt fantastic.

Honestly, I did. My pace was faster than normal, and I kept my heart-rate down. Normally, I can't pause breathing long enough to swallow water, but this morning, I managed to finish off the rest of my bottle on the climb.

The last 1/4 mile, the bad part, wasn't bad. I just stood up and powered up it. I really felt awesome. In fact, by the time I got home, I really felt like I ought to keep going. I probably would have done a lot better on Saturday if I had eaten more than a couple energy bars and a bottle of Cytomax. Or, if I hadn't run completely out of water at about mile 50.

Moose Encounters

2006-06-15T12:17:00.000-06:00

On my ride this morning, I ran the following creatures off the road: Pigeons, Deer, and a Moose. Here are some things I regret about my ride: I wasn't carrying a nice camera. Also, I wasn't very quick to get what camera I had (the cheapo one on my cell phone) out of my pocket. As a consequence, the picture of this moose is pretty bad.

I love that about early-morning rides. Previously, however, I thought these kind of encounters were limited to mountain biking. I'm glad they're not.

While I was stopped shooting pictures, a few cyclists rode past. I decided to see if I could hang with them a bit. After a mile or so, I realized that they were actually going slower than my previous pace. As I sped past them, I looked over and saw a couple of old men.

Dang.

Where's the glory in that? Also, why did they look like young, super-fit cyclists to me before I blew by?

A Change of Pace

2006-06-14T15:00:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I lived on my bike. After all, it was my only source of transportation. It spelled freedom from my parents. We rode everywhere. Being close enough in age, James and I almost always shared the same friends. Also, our closest friends shared our love of bikes.

I remember countless trips around town: down to the gas station for a soda, across town to a friends house, or over to the bike store. We never rode very fast--after all, what was the point? We were there to be out on our bikes. I remember once trying to ride all the way across town without touching the handlebars except to shift or stop. I remember my futile attempts at trials around the local high school.

In those days, I was more comfortable on my bike than almost anywhere else. At the time, I owned a pair of cheap cycling shorts, a helmet and a pair of cotton crochet gloves. No cycling shoes--toe clips and running shoes back then. No jerseys--a cotton t-shirt was just fine. Somehow, all those cycling bits and pieces I have so much of today, didn't really matter. I was comfortable on my bike, because I lived on it.

I remember the camaraderie. Riding past a friend, and grabbing their brake so they'd have to slow down. This was especially successful if that friend was riding with a 44-oz soda.

Last Saturday, for a brief moment while riding with the neighborhood boys on their cheap bikes--making fun of me in my lycra, of course--it all came back to me. I don't begrudge the type of riding I do now. I love long rides. I love fast paces. For that hour or so on Saturday, though, none of that mattered. It was just a few guys riding along and talking--having fun.

I love the contrast in cycling. Being on a bike is so much fun--whether I'm hammering down a lonely country road, clearing an obstacle on a difficult trail, or just hanging out with friends on bikes.

That Really Hurt

2006-06-13T12:51:00.000-06:00

Friday night ended with a downpour right after I finished the fence. Although concerned about the rain continuing through the next day, I knew I'd be free. That was enough.

Saturday dawned clear and bright. It promised to be a warm day--which was something I wanted. I normally ride in the cool of the morning, so I want to get more acclimated to warm/hot temperatures.

Just as I was getting dressed, there was a knock on the door. Two boys from the neighborhood showed up to invite me on a ride. As I was walking out the door, I told my wife, "After a short ride with them, I'm going to take off on my own for a few more hours."

The guys had some hill climbing in mind. That's fine, I though, I love climbing hills. The hill they picked was very steep, but also very short (less than 1 mile), so I settled into a good pace and started up.

"The Old Man and The Hill" or "Old Shifters Die Hard"
Then Chuck (names have been changed) had a problem: his rear shifter blew up. I should point out that the bikes these guys are riding are literally thrift store bikes--probably late '70s. In this case, it was a clamp-on downtube shifter that was the culprit. After trying in vain to fix it. He says, "I'll just try and push this tall gear going up it as far as I can." (Remember, if the shifter isn't there to hold the derailleur in place, it defaults to the smallest cog/hardest gear. Luckily, he was in the smallest chainring on a double.)

To his credit, he would have made it, too, if his rear wheel hadn't kept slipping due to the torque he was laying down. He stopped a couple of times to get out his wrench and tighten the bolts holding the rear wheel on.

From there, we proceeded on to the BYU creamery. There, these young men feasted on ice cream. "No thanks," I said, "I don't want all that cream churning inside my on this hot day."

Of course, after that, they hammered up this longer, but less steep, hill. I say hammered, but somehow they were just riding and I was hammering to keep up with them.

Is this just age? Is that what makes it so hard for me sometimes? I often wonder what shape I'd be in if I'd started seriously riding back then. (I've been riding that long, but never very serious about getting better.)

"The Real Ride" or "A Hard Lesson to Learn"
With a few parting words I broke off from the group and headed out to do a "real ride". I was feeling fantastic. I had a loose plan of riding the Alpine Loop, but I really wanted to do more than that.

When I started up Provo Canyon, I was going at a pretty good pace--this was partly to try and up the relatively slow average I had while riding with the boys. (Overall, we went really slow. It was just that hill where they lost me.) Another biker passed me, so I decided to keep up with him. I just stepped it up a notch and managed to hang with him without much difficulty. After a few miles of this, I figured I'd better slow it down a little, because I wanted to do the Alpine loop, and maybe something else. I was relieved to see him turn around at the next park. No wonder he was going so fast.

I was still planning on doing something in addition to the Alpine Loop when I turned up Alpine Loop Rd. As has been stated, this is the steepest part of the climb. I flew up it.

Well, for me anyway. I kept a reasonable pace and stayed in my saddle about 95% of the time. After I passed Sundance, I started to get just a little bit chilly.

Uh oh. I guess morning water intake is much to little for a warm afternoon ride. I wasn't too concerned, though, and I started drinking more water.

The closer I got to the summit, however, the more I realized I was losing my energy fast.

"I remember this part being easier."

Once at the top, I pounded the rest of an energy bar and pointed my bike down the American Fork side of the mountain. There's nothing like a nice long downhill to help you feel you've recovered. Unless of course, it is a stiff tailwind on a flat road. Coincidentally, this is what I had once I got to the bottom. I was feeling fantastic. I was cruising on said flat road at around 30 mph for about 15-20 minutes.

"See, I managed to pull myself out of that bonk. That's more like it."

Then I turned a corner. I wasn't actually facing into the wind, but I was no longer with it. From that point on, I wanted to stop. I was still about 10 miles from home.

At about 4 miles from home, I thought about stopping a lot. I mean, I really wanted to stop. My legs were so tired I felt like if I stopped spinning, they'd lock up and I wouldn't be able to move them. I kept eyeing small patches of shaded grass off the side of the road with sincere longing.

At about 2 miles from home, I didn't think there was any chance of finishing. Most of my thoughts were spent trying to think of a good excuse to call my wife. This was mixed with the occasional thought of: "I wonder if I'll ever want to ride again." And, "I hate this."

This, to those who have never experienced it, is a bonk. A full-blown bonk. It took me about 30 minutes after I got back before I even wanted to drink--though I knew it was important. About two hours after that I finally sat down and ate dinner. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"What Did I Do Wrong?" or "I'm Glad to Be Alive!"
Well, for starters, I forgot sunscreen. Again. I think getting sunburnt makes things worse for me. For another, I really didn't drink enough near the beginning. I've been used to cool rides, so I wasn't worried or prepared for it.

Also, partway into my bonk, er ride, that ice cream sure sounded nice.

On Sunday, I was talking with James on the phone, wondering if I'd ever want to get on my bike again. His reply: "Yes. Tomorrow."

He was right. And I even want to do that ride again. Soon.

This morning's ride was a face-paced solo effort. Mostly flat with a short steep climb right at the end. I kept up a really fast average for the first half and fizzled a little at the end. It was good, because I need to learn how long and how hard I can push myself.

No bonk, though.

To Fence

2006-06-09T08:22:00.000-06:00

Cycling isn't my life. I mean, most of the time I want it to be my life, but I'm resigned to the fact that it isn't. I hope that doesn't shatter your perception of me.

My time on my bike is limited. Limited and precious. For that reason, I spend a significant ammount of time thinking of my rides, planning for my rides, and juggling other events for my rides. Sometimes, however, I know that I need to sacrifice for my rides.

Obviously, I sacrifice my rides to spend more time with my wife and children. After all, why else would I ride at the crack of dawn. It is a sacrifice well made. This is especially apparent when my wife says things--as she has--like, "I think you should buy that bike."

At other times, I give up time on my bike for more time on my bike. Take my fence, for instance. I am putting in a new fence. I wanted to finish it last weekend. I didn't get on my bike once last Saturday--normally my long day--so I could finish the fence and thus free up my future time to ride more. Unfortunately, I didn't finish. In fact, as of this morning, I'm still not finished.

Please notice that I said "this morning." [Waiting for the point to dawn on you.]

Yes, last night, I was looking forward to another ride. Really looking forward to it. Only one thing was bothering me. I was worried that, with the fence still not done, it might consume yet another Saturday. I decided, therefore, that I'd sacrifice Thursday morning, for Saturday afternoon.

Only, I didn't finish this morning either. My new plan is to sacrifice Thursday and Friday nights for Saturday afternoon.

In the end, I'm gambling with my time. I'm afraid that, not only will I not finish the fence in time, but I will have given up week-day rides without the benefit of a long week-end ride to compensate.

A Stretch

2006-06-07T22:32:00.000-06:00

Since I began really putting in the miles (for me anyway) on my bike, I've started to notice some things. For one, the more I ride, the more I love it. Also, the more I ride, the more my brain depends on that time in the saddle to behave normally. The other thing I have noticed is how much I needed to add to my off-bike routine in order to help my riding.

Something I have never done (even in my running days) is stretch. People have always told me to stretch, but I've managed alright without it. The more I ride, and the more I push my muscles, the more sore I get. I've actually found real benefit to stretching. It is especially important when I ride before work. On those days, I have high intensity in the morning, and then I sit still in front of my computer for the next 8 or 9 hours. This kills my legs. If, however, I take a few minutes to stretch during the day, I feel much better. I have much less soreness.

I've also found that eating is a big deal. I most often ride at the crack of dawn. Because of this, and my desire for more sleep, for years I would never eat any food before a ride. In fact, even if I rode in the afternoon, I'd try and avoid food altogether for hours before the ride.

I now make sure I take in a bunch of carbs right when I first get up in the morning--generally 30 minutes before I'm on the bike. At the same time, I try and take in some water to prepare me for all the sweating I'm about to do. I've found this helps me so I don't need to bring as much water, and so I have more energy.

The other time I try and tank up on food is right after a ride. I drink lots--usually chocolate milk--and eat high-carb foods. As I'm trying to loose weight as well, lately, I've been trying to cut out some of the fat, without avoiding the carbs.

During the ride, I've increased my intake as well. Not for short rides, mind you, but for longer rides I make sure and bring some form of energy gel (usually homemade, so I don't break the bank). On rides much longer than 2 hours, I try and have a bottle of energy drink (I like Cytomax, and Performance/Nashbar usually has it on the cheap) and an energy bar (currently, Balance Bars are my favorite). It is amazing how that can keep me going on a long ride--even when I start out tired and sore.

Overall, by stretching and eating-for-cycing, I've found I can ride more, and recover much faster. I also figured that I'd better learn to eat and ride at the same time for my longer rides like centuries and LOTOJA.

New Review: Tarptent

2006-06-07T10:50:00.000-06:00

I forgot to mention that I finished up another review and have posted it to GearReview.com. So, here's my obligatory link.

One is the loneliest number...

2006-06-05T14:00:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, through the burden of my high standing as a blogger with more than 3 readers, I am required, for the betterment of society, to talk about subjects that aren't pleasant. I have received numerous emails requesting more information on this subject (read: zero, as usual), so I feel the time has come to address it. Here is an excerpt from one such email:

Jon, please help me understand something here.
You shave your head. You shave your face. You don't have your legs, but I'm sure
that will change once you decide to suck it up like the rest of us and stop
acting like a newbie. Gosh! Okay, sorry. Anyway, what's with the huge bushy
eyebrows (or, perhaps, eyebrow would be more appropriate)?!

Also, are you Sasquatch?

Shorn in Shenandoah

Well, Shorn, that's a very good question. Two, actually. No, I'm not Sasquatch, or big foot. My shoe size is about 9.5 US. Though, yes, I am remarkably hairy, I'm not as hairy as all that.

As for the brow, you are not alone in questioning my reasons for holding on to it. Let me paint a picture for you.

It is a hot day outside, and you're riding your bike. There is not even a whisper of a breeze, and you have been consuming water in large quantities to make up for it. You start to climb a steep hill. This hill is familiar to you, but nonetheless very hard. As you look up at the slope looming above you, sweat trickles down your forehead and into your eyes.

The burn! The stinging! The blurred vision! As if this climb on this hot day wasn't enough!

That scenario, alas, isn't of me. Though I often ride in heat, and even more often up hills, and even though I sweat more than most people I know, I don't get sweat in my eyes.

"How is this possible?" you gasp in horror. "Are you wearing one of those funky plastic rain-gutter sweatbands?" No, I have thick bushy eyebrows. You see, though hair may encumber me in many instances, my trusty eyebrows safely channel sweat away from my eyes and down the sides of my face.

Jealous?

It's Alive!

2006-06-01T15:54:00.000-06:00

Rides have a mind all their own. This statement might sound a bit weird to those who don't ride, but trust me when I say that it isn't me controlling the ride. The Ride can do that all by itself without my help. Many times, I'll start the ride with a particular goal or route in mind. Sometimes, the Ride agrees with me and everything is uneventful. Often, I never know where it'll take me next.

The Ride is Good
The good news about the Ride, is that it knows this world better than I do. I can often become easily lost. Those that know me best know that I actually have think about it before telling right from left.

The Ride, though, takes me down roads I've never seen, and through parts of town I've never been to. It takes me there, shows me spectacular views, teaches me pain up steep climbs, and then brings me back again. The Ride is the protagonist--always fighting against my early-morning self. It teaches me to love biking even more each time I'm out.

The Ride knows what I need, even when I don't
Today, the Ride took me up hills. Lots and lots of hills. I know it was the ride guiding me, because when I left I said, "I want to get in as many miles as possible today. I don't really want to do hills because I did so many last week." One corner after another led me to unfamiliar territory, and up many hills. The Ride kept pushing me, too. I would think my hill work was done for the ride, but the Ride would throw another one into the mix.

Rarely, I can fool the Ride
While climbing up a particularly steep hill near my house, I took the opportunity to end the ride. I feigned right, then darted to the left. The Ride, I think, must have been planning out the next hill when I did so. By the time it realized where I went, the Ride gave up on me and I limped down my street to my house.

Aside
On a particularly steep and windy descent (one over which I'd never ridden), I got going too fast for a turn. I think I panicked when I grabbed the brakes and my rear wheel lost traction and skidded about 10" before I let go and got the bike under control. I'm glad the front wheel stayed solid. That could've been nasty.

I hope to put in a longer ride on Saturday, but I have to work and put in a new fence--which, coincidentally, is also work.

My Worst Enemy

2006-05-31T07:33:00.000-06:00

I am my worst enemy. Well, not me exactly, but part of me. My early morning self, to be exact. Evidently, my early-morning self hates me.

The Evidence
Knowing that the only time I'd be able to ride on Monday was early in the morning, my early-morning self snuck into my room and set my phone (which I use for an alarm) on vibrate. Then, he promptly slept through the buzzing. One day of riding, gone. He's quite sneaky.

This morning, I could only ride for about an hour, and had to be back by 6:30 am. I had planed on a short, but hilly route that would get me a good workout but get me back by then. I set my alarm. I double-checked to see if the phone was on vibrate.

The first thing my early-morning self did was distract me a lot so I didn't actually make it to bed until 11:00 pm. Then, He pulled out all the stops. As soon as my alarm went off, I started to wake up. There he was, waiting for me. "Wow, I bet it's cold out there." "You're moving pretty slow. I bet you don't have time for a full hour of riding." "You're supposed to dig fence post holes tonight after work. Don't you think that'll be enough of a workout?" "And, don't forget that you're playing basketball tonight with the boys from your church. How tired do you want to be going into that?" "You can't just go on getting no sleep every day. Eventually, it's going to hit you and it will really impede your training."

I'll spare you the rest.

He's quite persuasive.

The thing is, I always regret skipping out on a ride. Always. Even when the weather is bad. Even when I'm tired. Always. For example, I regret listening to my early-morning self this morning. He won, and now I regret skipping that ride. That's one more ride I'll never get.

I'll get you next time.

Victory, At Last

2006-05-25T13:28:00.000-06:00

One of the tests of my training I've been eagerly anticipating this season is the Alpine Loop. I only even considered doing it last year, and managed to pull it off once--well, I only tried once. I tried it last year in the middle of the day, after doing some yard work. I started out dehydrated. It got up to 103 that day. Also, I was in bad shape. I think that it ended up taking me 4:30 (including all my stops for water and rests along the way).

I wasn't prepared at all for it.

I'm in much better shape now, so I decided I'd try and do it in 3:00. I also planned on doing it the other direction--that is, Provo to American Fork. I gave myself 3 hours--planning to leave at dawn (around 5:30 am) in hopes of making it home around 8:30 am and only about an hour late to work.

Bad Start
It began all bad with me not getting out until closer to 5:45 am. The wind coming down Provo canyon was brutal, as well. I was having a hard time keeping a good pace before I even got to the mouth of the canyon. I figured, however, that if I got to the top of the Alpine Loop by 7:30, I might just be able to make it home by 8:30.

By the time I turned on to the north fork/alpine loop road, I was tired. It's been said before, and looking back, I'd have to agree, that the first bit (below Aspen Grove and Sundance) is the worst. For me, the problem is that it doesn't look that bad. The road is fairly straight without too many bends. In my mind, at least, if a road has to switch-back up a mountain, it MUST be steep. By the time I arrived at Aspen Grove, I was feeling a little better--having pushed past my pain--but not looking forward to the switchbacks to come.

The Surprise
I felt fantastic after this point. The sun finally came out and I was warming up. The gate is closed to motor traffic so I had the whole road to myself. The switchbacks weren't steep. In fact, I managed to shift up a few gears and pick up my pace.

I made it to the summit at 7:28 am. To me, this was the victory. I was ahead of schedule and I had made it without dying. In fact, I felt much, much better than I did on my previous attempt last year. MUCH better.

Good Ending
The descent was fun--except for when my fingers started to go numb from the cool air. American Fork canyon is on the west side, so the sun hadn't reach most of it yet. Once I got lower, however, I dropped the hammer and kept the pace fast. I made it home right at 8:30 am. 2:44 was my ride time. My average was just a hair under 16mph.

I know, this is really kind of slow. I won't start looking for sponsors, yet. For me, though, it was a victory--one for which I've been working on for about 10 months. Now that I've won, I plan to make that ride a regular part of my training.

The Work-Place Crit

2006-05-23T14:48:00.000-06:00

I have never raced before. Ever. (Unless you count cross-country in Jr. High School [I still can't believe they give out ribbons for 26th place--I mean, what's the point in that?]) Technically, LOTOJA is a race, though I'll just be racing against the clock.

On more than one occasion, people have suggested I do a Crit, or Criterium. I don't know much about these, but what I know, I don't like. For one, they involve lots of people racing around a small-ish area. Also, they have lots of tight turns. I my mind, a crit is like the cycle-cross of the road bike world--basically a race that is fun to watch, but not much fun to be in. (Again, I should point out I have raced neither.) Usually, there are lots of crashes. I don't want to crash. I don't like crashing. I have no desire to enter a crit.

eXtreme Criterium!
Since the purpose of a crit seems to be getting hurt and eXtreme riding, I think we should spice it up a bit. If short tracks with lots of corners are good, lets make them shorter. If the uncertainty and danger associated with high-speed cornering in a pack is interesting to watch, why not plan the course with danger in mind?

Also, in an effort to bring my love of cycling to my "day job" I propose (are you listening, HR?) setting up a crit around the building where I work. Although not gargantuan, this building is fairly large (housing some 700 employees). Also, it isn't your traditional rectangle, so there are more areas for wrecks--er corners. Each lap would be short, and including as many as 10 corners--depending on the exact set-up.

Instead of roping it off and keeping it clear, I would eliminate any such "organizing" elements of the race. This would 1) make it even more exciting and 2) limit the work I'd need to do to set it up. How exciting (or dangerous, for that matter) can a race be if people (or cars) aren't allowed on or near the course? For that matter, I think the race should either be in the morning, around 8:30-ish, or noon--the two times with the most in and out-bound traffic.

I can't wait for the first time an executive walks by engrossed in a mobile phone conversation (or typing a email) and nearly escapes with his life.

Also, tires stick really well on dry pavement. For my crit, I'd have a fire hydrant open and pouring out over the track--preferably on a corner. And banana peels. Though easy to spot and avoid, everyone has seen enough cartoons that banana peels on the course will shake them up a bit.

We should organize a nation-wide event. Everyone sets up a crit around where they work. This could turn into a tournament, with the winners battling it out around a really complex campus--say Microsoft or Google--for the overall National Work-Place Crit Champion. I'd make the winners jersey a beige polo with three rear pockets--made out of wicking polyester, of course.

Now that's a crit I'd watch--I still wouldn't race in it, but I don't mind being in charge. I'll let you know if I get it approved by HR.

Drink Too Much (Water)

2006-05-23T10:58:00.000-06:00

I love that, while riding my mountain bike, I carry a hydration pack. I've loved this from the first one I owned. I carry tons of water, plenty of supplies. I often carry both a mini pump, and a shock pump, just in case.

When I started riding road bikes more heavily, I found that I also loved the freedom of NOT carrying a pack with me. It isn't the freedom of being prepared, so much as the freedom of less to carry. The freedom of only carrying the essentials. I suppose this is the same sort of freedom that ultra light-weight backpackers enjoy.

However, when on my road bike, there is always something nagging at the back of my mind: Where can I get water when my water bottles run low? On my mountain bike, I always carried too much water. I'd fill the pack all the way up--even for a short 1-hour ride. As it turns out, this is just a symptom of a much larger problem: I drink too much water when I ride.

Perhaps this sounds foolish. Perhaps you're the person who routinely bonks because of dehydration. This never happens to me. I am much more likely to be searching for a bathroom, than to be dehydrated.

On Saturday, I went on a fast-paced 43-mile ride. It was quite warm, and windy. I brought two huge water bottles. I had to refill them. That's right, a ride that took less than 2:20, I needed more than 50 oz of water. In fact, it was probably closer to 75 oz.

The other day, when I met up with that guy on the Orbea, I noticed that I had two bottles (large), while he only had one small one. I drank about 5 times more often than he did. I was wishing for a restroom before I finished.

Is it a survival instinct? I just need to have plenty of water, in case my bike explodes and I have to walk home? Do I sweat more than the average person? I do sweat a lot.

Going forward, however, I've decided to try and cut back my water consumption during rides. Here's an interesting read on the subject of drinking too much. Although I've never, to my knowledge, experienced any of the symptoms of drinking too much, I'm going to try and cut back and see how that effects my riding.

If You Choose Not to Decide, You Still Have Made a Choice

2006-05-18T14:23:00.000-06:00

Thank you, Rush.

How many times can I post about having a great ride, and how wonderful cycling is before it gets boring? Have I already exceeded that limit? You must not ride enough, then.

The day started out perfect. Clear skies. Cool, but not cold. I had on shorts, a short-sleeve jersey and arm-warmers. My legs didn't feel stiff or sore or anything.

A Problem
I couldn't decide where to go. I really couldn't. I don't often have this problem with mountain biking. After all, there are only a few trails that are close enough to ride before work. Also, some are obviously better than others.

With road biking, there are so many more options. Some roads might be smoother, but others might be less traveled (by cars). Which way is the wind blowing? How long do I have? Somehow, it just feels so complex.

Along Came the Solution
While I was waiting at an intersection near my house, I saw a cyclist fly by on a beautiful orange Orbea. At last, I would decide to follow, with nary a care as to where we were going. I immediately jumped on the chase and caught up with him. We talked pleasantries for a while and then settled into a mini pace-line. I'm certain he had more experience than I on the road, but was patient when I failed to point out an obstacle or two. I might have surged each time I took my turn pulling, but I honestly tried not to.

It was a golden ride. The kind of ride where everything feels right. Even the wind seemed to shift each time we turned--always staying at our backs. We kept up a good pace with little effort. It wasn't a long ride--just 25 miles--but I didn't feel exhausted at all when I got home.

More is More
I also experienced something I didn't think I would: I really felt like a stronger presence on the road. Instead of just being a cyclist on the side of the road, I felt like I was part of something bigger. Something that motorists would pause and pay attention to. (Well, at least pay attention to. Probably not pause.) I felt more legitimate. I felt a little more at ease and confident.

Oh, and just because I can't seem to write anything without mentioning LOTOJA (I ought to get a kick-back from them, or something), the person I hooked up with this morning has ridden it, and is planning on riding it this year. It is always cool to talk to someone about it.

Also, registration is closed. That was quick.

Are Jeans Good for Anything?

2006-05-17T12:59:00.000-06:00

I'd like to think I have enough time in the saddle that I could wear almost anything and be able to ride a few miles (3.5, in this case) in comfort.

It turns out, I'm wrong.

Among the list of activities that jeans are bad for (with such obvious ones as cross-country skiing and swimming) I would like to add commuting by bicycle. Even on my comfortable Fi'zi:k Aliante, I can actually start to dislike riding after a mile or two if I'm in jeans. This can, of course, be minimized by wearing bike shorts under the jeans--but then, what is the point wearing the jeans at all?

More Milk, Please.

2006-05-17T12:57:00.000-06:00

Back by popular demand: Another post about milk.

Remember my post about using chocolate milk for recover (I actually used it, for a brief period, as an energy drink, too)? (Here and here.) VeloNews finally had something to say about it (chocolate milk, not my post): http://www.velonews.com/train/articles/9885.0.html

Descending

2006-05-16T13:18:00.000-06:00

Over the years, although my fitness has improved, my high-speed skills have not. This is most apparent when mountain biking, as no matter how fast I climb, I'm always the last one down the mountain. In fact, overall, I feel I am much more timid when riding than I used to be. I suppose, in part, this is why I enjoy endurance riding so much.

Cause
I used to ride with people all the time. In fact, I used to not go riding at all, unless it was with someone. As my life filled up (with a wife, a job, and children), I found it more and more difficult to plan a time that would work with everyone. Gradually, I stared riding on my own more and more.

I have found out two things about this. First, I really actually enjoy the time alone. I enjoy the solitude, the sojourn with nature, so-to-speak. I like being able to push myself harder, if I want, or take it easy, if I'm tired. I really like coming home when I want to, instead of waiting for someone else's schedule. I find that I can do more actual riding alone--spending less time preparing or waiting or meeting up with other people.

Second, I found that when I'm alone (and this is especially true on the trail), I tend to not push myself over difficult obstacles like I would, out of pride, when with a group. I also have much less judge of my fitness. Even though I can tell that I'm much stronger than I used to be, I can't actually compare myself to others. For these reasons, I know that I really need to start riding with people more.

One Such Symptom
One of the symptoms of my timidity on the bike is readily apparent when descending on the road. Or, to be more precise, descending and cornering--especially at the same time. (Note: I also think that the poor brake performance of road bikes compared to mountain bikes makes me nervous to push the speed on descents. Ever notice how much faster road bike brakes fade than mountain brakes?) I really am not fast. This morning, after a sustained climb, I--get this--started downhill. I left the summit shortly after another rider whose car was waiting for him at the bottom. Not only did I never catch up to him, but he and his car were long gone by the time I reached the bottom.

Then it hit me: I need to get faster on downhills.

You see, in order to achieve my 16.5 average to finish the LOTOJA on time, I plan to stop very infrequently. I don't really plan to stop to eat. Ever. Also, I'm really working on both my endurance, and my hill climbing. That way, the hills don't hurt my average too much. This morning, however, I realized that one way in which I can increase my overall average speed, without much additional effort is to increase my downhill speed.

Aside
In relation to that, on my way down today I was forced to face another fear. Because my background is in mountain biking, I'm used to loose conditions, but always with big grippy tires. On my road bike, with the tiny contact patch, I worry that any little pebble on the road will mark my demise around corners.

Today, inadvertently, I hit one such pebble. My tire skipped ever so slightly and I continued on. It was totally uneventful. Instantly, I started letting my speed creep up slightly.

I should interject that, at this point, you are probably (with the exception of my wife) waiting for a nice story of a grand slide off the road and a bad road-rash. I'm sorry to disappoint you. The rest of the descent was uneventful.

I think I'm ready to start working on my descending skills.

Ride Your Bike to Work Week

2006-05-15T15:36:00.000-06:00

Here we are, the first day of Ride Your Bike to Work Week. I've committed myself to riding to work every day this week. I'd actually love to always ride, but I feel I have a pretty good excuse, so I don't.

It isn't that my commute is long--it's only 3.5 miles. Besides, if distance were the only problem, I'd just get up earlier and leave earlier. Nor is it that traffic is bad--I can stay on residential roads almost the entire route. No, I have a better excuse than that.

You see, my daughter goes to school 10 miles (by the freeway--the most direct route) south of where we live. There are no buses. My work is north. She also cannot be at school any earlier than 8:15 and I try to be at work by 8:30. I've thought about using a trailer and taking her to school by bike. I'm sure I could start early enough to get her there on time. Once again, though, I'd time it to arrive there by 8:15, and I'd then be a good distance from work (probably 20 miles or so because of the streets I'd have to take).

As a consequence, in order to ride to work today, I drove my daughter to school. Then I stopped by my house and switched to my bike. I got to work around 8:45, which wasn't too late, though later than I'd like. Somehow I feel like I'm living the principle of bike commuting, but missing all the benefit. I mean, 3.5 miles! That's almost not even worth the sweat. I'm hoping I can take the "long" way home, though only about 7.5 miles.

New Clipless Pedals and "The Incident with the Intersection"

2006-05-15T15:24:00.000-06:00

I am so used to eggbeaters. I love them. I have a set (or, at least some type of Crank Brothers pedal) on each of my bikes. They are super easy to clip into. (This, by the way, is called foreshadowing).

Due to a fit issue (they were too large for him), I'm lucky enough to be riding the pedals/shoes James got from Shimano to review. These shoes are very stiff. The pedal engagement is solid, but I can get out of them just fine--though I haven't had to in a real-world panic situation yet.

My only frustration is trying to get _in_ them. There's no stomp-down-on-the-pedal-until-it-clicks with these. No, the pedal has to be lined up right. Even then, it is toe-in followed by heel-down to engage. (Most of you, no doubt, think me silly for even explaining what, quite possibly, is the oldest and most fundamental system for clipless pedals. Feel free to mock, but at least wait until you read the rest. There's more fuel below.)

Allow me to present the situation, as the events unfolded:

A cyclist is stopped at a stop light. He appears to be adjusting his over-stuffed messenger bag. Both feet are disengaged from the pedals and planted firmly--or as firmly as possible on road shoes with big cleats attached--on the ground. It looks as if he believes he has all day for the light to change. He doesn't. It is green.

With confidence, he puts a foot on a pedal to start pedaling, only to realize he's got these new shoes and new pedals. He decides to just lightly place the center of his shoe on the pedal and soft-pedal it across the intersection. He, however, is used to mountain bike shoes.

In fact, this cyclist never saw the need to own a pair of road shoes. He has nice, expensive, stiff mountain shoes. What's the point in road shoes, really? He now is thinking this with much more fervor.

His road shoes have fancy shiny carbon fiber soles. They are smooth. Trying to just "stick [his] foot on the pedals and ease across the intersection" isn't a good idea. They are like "ice on ice". His foot slips. He almost has a painful encounter with his top-tube. He looks down to the pedal to get the cleat in--clearly realizing that he won't be able to just make it across un-attached. The pedal is not front-up, which happens to be the only position in which these cleats can engage in these pedals.

He tries to flip it over. He tries to get a foot in. He slips again.

"It is quite a funny site to see, really." So says one passing motorist. "That is some bike this guy has. Though, I'd trade it in for a bike I could ride all the way across the intersection. He's looking pretty mad now. It's a good thing my windows aren't down or he'd hear me laughing and probably get even more angry.

"Is he ... okay? I mean is he, you know, special?"

A few more tires. There he goes. The cyclist has one foot in. He's trying to make it through with just the right foot clipped in. He isn't even attempting the other side. His left foot is just wildly flailing in the air while the right does all the work.

This Gives Me No Comfort

2006-05-12T13:56:00.000-06:00

This website gives me no comfort at all.

Perhaps the fact that I didn't get a ride in this morning just makes things worse. Also, due in part at least to my wrist injury, I haven't done a long ride in a number of weeks. Time to step it up a bit.

On a side note, I find that I have nothing interesting at all to say when I don't ride. Almost as if, when I ride my mind is open and full of interesting thoughts (at least, to me). When I don't ride, all I can think about is riding.

The Wind

2006-05-11T15:41:00.000-06:00

I don't like the wind very much. Especially head winds. I suppose it's pleasant if you're flying a kite in a beautiful meadow on a grassy hillside. I don't really do that very often.

Never, actually.

I have found, however, that the wind is almost* the worst thing that Mother Nature can throw at me while riding.

* I'm almost sure that being hit by lightening would be worse. Also, most forms of precipitation are worse, though a light rain on relatively dry roads isn't that bad--if it stops right away. Floods and earthquakes are worse. Volcanoes are worse. Hurricanes are worse.

I guess, an easier way to put it is that I'd take hills/mountains in any quantity over a headwind.

In thinking over my anti-wind stance, I find it odd. You see, I'm the kind of rider that doesn't often enjoy rides without hills. I look for hills to ride everywhere I go. I enjoy hill repeats. I like the challenge, and I feel like it makes me a stronger rider.

Interestingly enough, it is challenging to ride into the wind. While this makes riding up hills fun, I hate the wind. Also, riding into the wind (and trying to maintain a good speed) most definitely makes me a stronger rider. And yet--and I hope I'm not being redundant here--I hate the wind.

An Example
This morning, I headed up Provo Canyon. I didn't have much time and I didn't plan on doing any serious hill work. I just wanted to get as far as I could in the extremely limited time I had. It was uphill and against the wind. It was an evil wind, too. I could tell.

I fought hard. The entire time, I kept thinking how fast I'd need to go to complete the LOTOJA. And how there might just be wind that day. In fact, if I know the wind, there will be wind that day. I struggled. I pushed. I ran out of time and had to turn around at Vivian Park. Suddenly, the wind tried to make it all up to me.

"Hey, buddy, no hard feelings, right?"

"See [in very rare instances] we can work together. Not bad, eh?"

Then, under it's breath, "I can't blow UP the canyon this time of day! Curse him and his increased speed. If only ..."

My average speed on the way back down was fast. It felt good. I averaged 19.2 mph that ride, overall. 21 miles. I know that isn't very long. I know I've got a long way to progress, but I felt like I stuck it to the wind to average 19.2 mph.

Realization
I think the only reason why I dislike the wind so much while riding my bike is this: I ought to be going faster. It's like the bee that came after you in the outfield when you played t-ball as a kid. All anyone saw was this weirdo dancing around out in the field. You look at the road. You look at the grade. You think, "Gee, that guy ought to be going much faster. He's even got a nice bike. What's holding him back? He totally draws attention to himself with that super-bright orange jersey, too. What a weirdo."

Only in Cycling ...

2006-05-10T13:53:00.000-06:00

"It is a very strong feeling to wear the pink jersey ..."

This was said by Stefan Schumacher (Gerolsteiner) as the leader in the Giro d'Italia. This is one of the funniest out-of-context quotes I have heard in a while. And yet, even as an amateur cyclist, I agree with him.

Speaking of pink, I think it is funny that I totally want to win this bike. If I won it, would I sell it and buy one that wasn't pink? Nope, I'd take it, pink and all. (Though, I think that pink saddle with the ribbon is a little too much for me.)

And I get heckled on my own blog because I don't shave my legs. (Note to Anonymous: I have thought about it before. Then I came to the realization that I'm not fast enough to justify the extra time spent maintaining that. Also, it would freak my wife out.)

I have a buddy that is an ex-professional football player. He was a linebacker. He's huge. His hobby is collecting guns. He hunts. He drives an old beat-up jeep. When I talk with him about cycling, it is funny to see the sport through his eyes. Not that he thinks it is ridiculous or anything, but when I step back and think about it from his perspective, I almost think we are.

I love the sport. I love the clothing. I love the bikes. I love the technology. I love the strategy, drama, suspense of professional cycling. I love the pain I suffer through. I'm totally looking forward to LOTOJA beating me up and dragging me 206 miles down a street. I even love the pink.

The Groove

2006-05-09T12:54:00.000-06:00

This morning, I got on my bike for the first time since my injury. I have been on the trainer--but that really isn't the same thing. (A notable difference: riding on the trainer sucks.) I also climbed up Squaw Peak road for the first time of the season. Here are the numbers of the actual climb--not the ride--which I got from here:

Distance: 4.33 miles.
Altitude Gain: 1680 feet

It is pretty steep most of the way, and darn steep in some places. At first, I felt myself slowing down. I managed, however, to speed up and get into my groove. It felt good. I was going at a good clip (for me)--better that the other times I've climbed it.

The Groove
The strange thing about the groove is that it is often faster than I would think. When mountain biking, I always find my groove at a higher gear than I think I can handle. I also find that if I take a break after a particularly gut-wrenching section of trail, I lose my groove. On a bike, it is after I speed up and realize that the pain is somehow more tolerable--even if more intense--at that particular speed.

Getting in the groove can sometimes be a difficult thing.

Ever been in a pace line where they were pulling a little too fast? You find yourself constantly slipping off the back, then fighting to get back on. The combined effect can kill your energy fast. Or, perhaps all your buddies are riding slower than you'd like. Either way, sometimes, riding with people makes it even harder to get in your groove. Though I love to ride with people--especially those faster than me--I do most of my riding on my own. Me against me.

Another way to miss your groove is to eat the wrong food. Or, eat too much. Or too little. I can remember a few rides in the heat of the day when I kept tasting that heavy pizza I just ate--over and over again. If I don't eat enough, I always miss my groove. This can, if you're not careful, develop into a full-blown bonk. If you bonk, you're not in your groove. I've taken to planning my before/during/after nutrition/hydration more than I used to. As a consequence, getting in my groove is easier.

It is easier to be in my groove on my road bike, than on my mountain bike. I suppose this is due to the somewhat complex nature of mountain biking. It isn't just about energy and pace with mountain biking. There's also how well I make it over obstacles in the trail, and how well my bike is running.

When your bike isn't shifting/braking/suspending well, you can't get in your groove. This doesn't necessarily mean a nicer bike helps you get there better, it only means that whatever bike you're on needs to be functioning well.

My road bike functions well almost all of the time--there is much less on it to go wrong. When things are wrong, they can often be remedied by a barrel adjuster. I love that about road bikes.

The weather can prevent me from getting in the groove. Bad weather almost always makes for a bad ride. As does bad trail/road conditions. There's a trail up in the foothills here that, when wet, turns into the worst kind of mud: thick clay. It is totally impassible when soaked. Other types of weather are tolerable, if you're prepared. A chilly morning can be bad if you planned for 75 degrees. When I plan well, I am more likely to groove.

However hard it may be to get in the groove, it is what keeps me coming back for more. Whether I'm there because of an open smooth road and a beautiful sunrise, or because I cleaned that technical section smoothly on the first try, I always have hope for that groove--The Groove. It is what gets me up early in the morning when I haven't slept enough, and what motivates me to improve my fitness and my skills. It is the only real motivator I've found to help me loose weight. It is what keeps me daydreaming throughout the day of riding.

The Pros Don't Do Yardwork

2006-05-02T11:33:00.000-06:00

I believe I have mentioned before how much I dislike riding on the trainer. Fortunately, with the weather warming and the sunrise getting earlier every day, it’s a thing of the past. Or so I thought.

The Pros Don’t Do Yardwork
I, however, am not a pro. I was doing yardwork on Saturday and wishing I was riding. I still wish that I had been riding. While digging out dead grass and laying new sod/turf, I pulled a tendon in my right wrist. It hurt only a little, so I didn’t think much of it and went about my business.

Namely, I was able to go on a ride. The weather was beautiful, and aside from some minor pain in my right wrist, I was feeling fantastic. In fact, I was pushing myself harder than usual and feeling fantastic.

Then, I got a flat. The fates were not smiling on me that day.

One of the purchases I am most proud of is my super-micro Crank Brothers pump. It is so small that I can fit it in my seat bag. Finally, I got to really use it. I was actually a little excited.

Because I am completely uncoordinated with my left hand, I began to pump up my tire with my right, as usual. Everything seemed just fine—except, of course, this nagging sharp pain in my right wrist. You see, in order to achieve a full-working pump in such a microscopic size, Crank Brothers shortened the pumps throw to about 3 inches. When using this pump, it is better to describe it as oscillating, rather than pumping.

Eventually, with much grimacing, I got enough* air in the tire to limp home. (Actually, I wasn’t limping. My legs felt fantastic thanks to a 15 minute break.)

Now it is Tuesday, and I’m wearing a splint. This particular splint has and abducted thumb. This has nothing to do with aliens. It means that not only can I not use my wrist, but I also can’t use my thumb. Another thing I can’t do: ride my bike. The only thing that keeps me from hating it is the intense pain I get when I remove it.

So, here I am back on the trainer.
I can manage the trainer, because I hardly ever have to do emergency maneuvers on it. In fact, I don’t even have to use my right hand at all—though, it isn’t making riding the trainer any nicer. I’ve learned that the downtube shifters on my trainer bike are easier to use with a splint (or, the other hand) than fancy dual-control levers.

Also, I won’t be able to ride the century this weekend. That sucks. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to replace it with a few hours on the trainer.

*Also, before my next epic long ride (100+ miles), I’m getting CO2. The Crank Brothers micro nano pump is great for emergencies, but I’m not sure I can get much more than 85 psi in my tires with it. If I actually want to continue riding, I’ll need something else. So, I’ll be carrying both.

Another thing I learned: Yardwork is evil.

Random Ramblings

2006-04-28T16:38:00.000-06:00

Time
I don't ride nearly as much as I'd like to. At least, I don't ride at the times I'd like to. Meaning: I'm sitting at my desk when I should be riding. And I should be sleeping when I'm riding. Don't get me wrong, starting out the day on my bike is fantastic. I only wish I didn't need to start out my day that early.

Sleep
I don't sleep nearly as much as I'd like to. As it turns out, the amount of sleep I get is inversely proportional to the amount of riding I do. See "Time" above.

Bicycle Maintenance
I don't clean my bike nearly as often as I ought to. My headset squeaks. (At least I got all the dried worms off. Did I say I wasn't going to mention that again? I hope not.) Actually, I don't even work on my bike as much as I need to. I still need to bleed my brakes on my Jekyll.

Bibs
I don't have enough bib shorts. In this case, the marketing is actually working. I find that the more I look at bibs in the various mail-order catalogs I get, the more I think $100 isn't that bad for a bit of lycra with some fancy foam sewn in.

Pay
Although I get paid enough for my day/desk job, I don't get paid at all for riding my bike, so it evens out. My wife would be quick to point out, however, that even though I get paid nothing for riding my bike, it also costs a lot. Perhaps things aren't that even after all

LOTOJA Training
The hardest part about training for a long ride like LOTOJA, is getting in the long rides. I find it not too difficult to spend some time on my bike every day. If I count time on the trainer, I can spend at least an hour on my bike every weekday. (I'm sure the trainer doesn't count as miles, but surely it ought to count as time.) Even the long rides on the weekends are getting harder to do as my list of yardwork/home improvement projects continues to back up.

Eggbeaters
I recently read this article about Ben Jacques-Maynes' Kodakgallery.com/Sierra Nevada Merckx. The article seemed to look down it's nose at the fact that Ben uses Crank Brothers 4Ti Eggbeaters pedals. This, to me, begs the question: How does having more than one entry/release point make this pedal bad for road cycling? (Actually Speedplay's road pedals have two, so maybe I should say "more than two.") It isn't weight, because these things are really light. I know those on the pro tour like things expensive, but last I checked, these were some of the most expensive money could by. (This is off the point, but did I mention I ride with Eggbeaters on my road bike? I love the mechanism/feel of them.)

Children's Bikes
I finally saw a kid actually riding one of those cool chopper-style bikes down the road. He was weaving all over the place. His little sister, however, was riding a standard bmx-style pink kids bike--she was much more stable. Suddenly it occurred to me: When a kid is learning to ride--and hopefully learning to love--bikes, the last thing they need is for the marketing department to get involved. Here's my idea of a perfect kids bike:

Smooth-ish tires with enough air volume to take the edge of small bumps, but not so big it is hard to pedal.
Easy to mid-range gear. Again, this will make pedaling easy, even when they have to ride back up your driveway to put the bike away.
Make the bike somewhat upright, but not laid-back. You want comfort, but you also want efficient. You want children to feel the rush of speed and the wind in their hair with very little effort.
Make the sizing more adjustable. This one is for the parents. Give the seat about 12" of vertical adjustment, and about 6 of fore-aft adjustment. Okay, that might look freaky with really long rails, but at least do the vertical.
Listen carefully to this one: GENDER NEUTRAL COLORS/DESIGN! So, I got my oldest (a girl) a purple Specialized. Of course, I needed to buy my son a blue one. I'm going to end up with 15 PAIR of bikes, because I need to keep swapping sizes, and I can't bring myself to put my son on a pink bike. What's wrong with silver or white? Yellow?

Of course, my bike wouldn't sell, so then I'd call back in the marketing team and they'd tell me to sell what they're already selling.

Off Topic
The most random of all: Visual Studio .Net 2003 breaks the website everytime I have to open a page in design view. Sometimes I hate this thing. (Sorry that this one is so extremely off topic. I'll do better. I mean, I have yet to mention that SQL Server Managment Studio 2005 is the slowest program Microsoft has ever produced. Oops, I did it again.)

Century

2006-04-18T16:47:00.000-06:00

I completed my first century on Saturday. This particular century had virtually no hills. Basically, I wanted to pace myself and find out how I could handle the miles and time in the saddle.

When riding on the road, I spend a lot of time thinking. When I spend hours and hours riding on the road, I think a lot. I thought of a lot of things I saw, learned and felt while riding. When I got back, I was tired, thirsty and hungry. Now that a few days have passed, I find that many of those thoughts have faded. Let that be a lesson: My memory is terrible, write things down.

The day started out cold and wet. Really wet. Although it wasn't raining much, the streets were flooded with water and worms.

Yes, more worms. I'll spare you the details of yet another account of my worm slaughtering but will add this one statement to my past ramblings on the subject: Dead, dried worms stuck to my leg hairs is grosser than gross.

By about the half-way point, the sun was out in full force, and we dried up pretty quickly. Of course, at that point, I paid the price for no sunscreen.

This century was unsupported, so I carried a lot of energy gel and bars. I also brought several extra servings of Cytomax for when I stopped to fill up. By the end of the day, about the only thing I could stand was my homemade energy gel and the Cytomax. I don't know if I'll ever stop hating Vanilla Crisp PowerBars. I've got to think of something else to bring with me on my next unsupported century.

Here's something I learned: I'm no where near prepared for the LOTOJA. I mean, the century was long and it wore me out, but it didn't kill me. However, there were exactly zero serious climbs. I've already been planning out my next long ride. I think it'll top out at over 8,000 ft, so that's closer to what I need.

Another thing I learned: There is no glory in dropping two 18 yr olds that haven't ridden since the fall and are riding on (literally) 20+ year old 2nd-hand store bikes. One bike featured zip ties holding the water bottle cages on. (Incidentally, one of the cages didn't last past the first corner. Which meant he made it the whole way stopping no more often than me, with only one small water bottle.)

R3

2006-04-13T10:42:00.000-06:00

I was watching the highlight video of Paris-Roubaix and was curious about the bike riden by Fabian Cancellara to the win. Here it is, the Cervelo R3.

The first thing I noticed about it was the super thin seat stays. If you read on, they say that those seat stays aren't actually necessary, except for torsional loads, so they built them almost like leaf springs. The Bayonne version (still prototype) is only 750g! Here's another amazing fact: Normally, the bikes ridden on the Paris-Roubaix are heavy. They have big tires, heavy wheels, and stout components. (Read about what happened to George Hincapie to see why that matters for this race.) Cervelo says this bike is built up for the classics at the UCI limit of 6.8kg!

If you scroll down to the bottom of the page, you can watch a video of some people taking the prototype Bayonne and prototype Cross R3 off-road. Besides being able to see how well these bikes hold up, I love the music. Nice work on the video.

Despite being very light, these bikes seem strong. I'm going to try and get an R3 for testing. I'll let you know when I get it.

LOTOJA, Here I Come!

2006-04-12T11:39:00.000-06:00

I received this in an email yesterday:

THANK YOU for registering for the 2006 LOTOJA Classic. Your online application was received on April 10 and approved on April 11, 2006. The category you are registered in is CITIZEN 27-34.

I'm in!

What this means is now I'm committed to doing it. I have already spent my non-refundable $130. I now have a little less than 5 months to prepare--though I've already been preparing with that ultimate goal in mind.

Saturday is the Willard Bay Century up north of Salt Lake City. It is supposed to rain, but I plan to be there. This particular century is free, which is a pleasant way of saying unsupported. I've been trying to work out how I'm going to carry enough water, but I'm hoping a) the ride isn't too far from civilization and b) they take credit-cards.

Fortunately, the LOTOJA is supported, and my good friend Brian Heckert has already volunteered to drive support for me on that. In fact LOTOJA is a full-on USCF-sanctioned race. As such, part of my $130 goes to a one-day license (citizen-class).

At one point, I thought I'd at least share the road with some big names, but have since learned they stagger the start. I won't be starting until about 1.25 hours after the pros start. Here's the unfairness of that: That's 1.25 less hours I have to complete the race before the cut-off time 8:15pm. That means my average speed will need to be a blistering (for me) 16.5mph for the whole day (including breaks--if I get them). All 206 miles of it.

I'll keep this spot updated with my training progress.

Weight Weenie

2006-04-04T15:29:00.000-06:00

As with many people in this over-weight world we live in, I've been trying to lose weight. You see, I didn't like how fake I'd look on a really nice bike, with my gut hitting the top tube. I actually have lost some weight (about 10lbs), but I don't look anywhere near road-biker-skinny yet.

One of the reasons I like my Synapse so well, and a factor in why I fell in love with it during my review, was the weight. You see, I was surprised that I could really tell the difference (especially in the wheels) when compared to my old heavy road bike. Some of that difference is in the stiffness of the frame, but surely not all of it.

Thus began my love of all things light.

Or, to be more precise, it reminded me of how much I used to love light things before I gave all that up in favor of fun.

Back before suspension forks were all the rage, I remember counting grams on my old mountain bike--no small feat considering how many grams made up my bike. I remeber looking at things like titanium bolts and scandium brake boosters thinking such things as, "Wow, that'd save about 50 grams off my current setup" and, "$30 for a bolt isn't that expensive." Luckily, I didn't have any money back then to spend on bolts.

More recently (but not the present), I realized that I'd rather have a plush full-suspension bike with gobs of travel, big disc brakes, and beefy tires. My mountain bike is heavy, but oh so fun. Sure, I'd rather have a lighter stem, wheels or tires, but I really enjoy riding my bike.

Lately, I've been putting more miles on the Synapse. In fact, my mountain bike probably feels a little dejected. (At least part of my neglect, though, is due to the snow in the mountains.) Because of that, I've been really thinking about how I could shave some weight off my current mountain rig. Funny, that.

*wife, don't read this next part*

In truth, though, my real desire isn't to make my full suspension bike lighter. What I'm really planning out in my evil plotting mind is what I want for my next bike. Perhaps a light-weight hardtail? Maybe something more XC-oriented? It's an illness, I know.

*okay, wife, you can read again*

I won't be buying anything anytime soon, though, and I'm quite happy with what I've got. Who wouldn't be? I'd better just concentrate on my weight for now. It's much cheaper--though perhaps not as fun to obsess over.

What's grosser than gross?

2006-04-02T16:54:00.000-06:00

Remember that old childish game? My friends and I would sit around and think up the most disgusting things to try and gross each other out.

Background
Yesterday, the weather was perfect--or at least it was while I was out riding. Though it was windy, cold and snowy/rainy later in the day, while I was out, it was warm and partly-cloudy. It had rained all the previous night, but the warm air managed to dry most of the roads out--with only an occasional puddle.

Although I knew I didn't have time, I was trying to find my way around the south end of Utah Lake. I actually managed to find my way--or at least as near to it as I had time. There were hardly any cars on the roads. For the most part, it was only me and the cows that were out.

And the worms.

Barbaric
The roads were littered with worms--most of which seemed to be perpendicular to my path. At first, I tried to avoid them, but as I watched more closely, and discovered the sheer number of them, I realized that was futile. On I went, slaughtering worms in my wake.

Gross
Only at the end of my ride, did I notice what had become of my pristine, new Synapse. Worms, and worm-parts splattered all over my bike. One carcass got caught on my passing crank arm as it got flung from my spinning wheel. I found it wrapped around the crank arm and dried up. Another fatality.

Ewww.

I knew I'd have to clean off road grime, but I didn't think of counting worms as part of the "grime".

A Side Note
I'm training for my first century on April 15th. Yesterday's ride was 66.1 miles with an average of 17.4 mph. I feel like I'm on target for the century, but it'll kill me. I plan to do some short rides during the week (because of time) with another long one next weekend. The final week before the ride, I plan to taper off and only ride a few easy days.

Boonen Wins Tour of Flanders! (That's 2 years in a row!)

2006-04-02T16:49:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to Tom Boonen. The first person to win Flanders wearing the World Championships jersey since Eddy Merckx. To be compared in any way to Merckx would be enough in and of itself. Also, this win puts Boonen in the lead of the ProTour.

Click here for more.

The Taste, The Feel ... of Milk

2006-03-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I'm so obsessed with the chocolate-milk-as-an-energy-drink idea. Perhaps it is because, being cheap, I know that I can buy milk for very little cash. Perhaps it is because I just dropped a ton of bones on my Synapse, and can't justify any other expenses to my wife--yet she wouldn't care if I just drank more milk. Perhaps it is the hilarity of the whole concept.

I remember a commercial put out by the national dairy foundation (or some such entity--I don't know if it even exists, so I elected not to capitalize it). It showed "active" people "on the go". You know, roller-bladers, basketball players and even mountain bikers drinking chocolate (or some other flavored) milk to cool off and re-hydrate. I distinctly remember laughing about it with my wife: "who would drink milk to quench their thirst during intense activity?"

This morning, I got up early for my usual early morning ride-on-the-trainer-which-works-my-legs-but-doesn't-really-count-as-a-ride ride. Normally, I don't eat anything, and I only drink water for such rides. I mean, I only have about 45 min to 1.5 hours before I need to get ready for work, so it really isn't worth it to take in extra calories. On a whim, though, I decided to mix up a water-bottle of chocolate milk. I say "mix up", because I didn't have any chocolate milk in my house. Instead of using chocolate syrup, I opted for Ovaltine because of the extra vitamin content. I did this to see if I could handle exercising while drinking milk, and because I figured it was better to start in the safety of the garage, rather than on an actual ride, where getting sick might mean I didn't make it home.

Observations
Trainers are too smooth to keep the Ovaltine mixed with the milk. Also, because it is really cold in my garage, I'd actually rather have tepid water than cold water. The milk was, of course, cold. I also wanted to drink more than usual, because chocolate milk is tastier than tap water.

The Verdict
Surprisingly, it worked. That is, I could tell I was getting hydrated as I should. I did have a bottle of water on the bike, as well, which helped clear my mouth of the sticky milk residue. I don't think this is unique to milk--that is, the need to drink water as well. I always carry water when I carry energy drinks on a ride. My system wasn't in any way adversely affected by the milk, either, as I worried. At the end of the ride, not only was I not exceptionally thirsty, I also wasn't as hungry, which could be seen as a benefit.

For this informal experiment, I used 1% milk mixed with less than the recommended 4 TBS/cup Ovaltine. These results are by no means conclusive. I still don't know how well I'd like it on a hot day, or once the milk was no longer cool. I'll probably try it out later in the season, though, and report back how it works out.

Mmmm, Warm Milk.

2006-03-21T13:52:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon this article about using Chocolate Milk as a sports drink, and it left me with many questions:

For one thing, the thought of drinking milk on a hot day sounds terrible. What would be worse, is that, most likely, the milk would be quite warm after a short time.

When I ride, my body produces mucus at abnormal rates, I don't want to even imagine what milk intake would do to those high mucus levels.

Most energy drinks can survive a hot day on the road/trail in a waterbottle and still be in about the same condition. How long would chocolate milk last in 90 degree weather? What about 100 degrees?

Sometimes, on really long solo rides, it is nice to bring energy drink mix with me, so I can re-fill waterbottles with it while I'm out. (I love ELETE for that.) Could I mix something like Ovaltine (or other chocolate milk powder) with powdered milk and bring it along?

I'm not lactose intolerant, but how well can my body handle all the fat and lactose when I'm bouncing down a trail, or sprinting up a steep incline? How well will all that churning sit with my digestive system?

My hydration pack reservoir is lined to prevent muck from forming inside it. Would that work with chocolate milk, as well? Would I have to rinse it out every time?

If I am exercising, would I be able to blow through a whole gallon of chocolate milk in less than an hour and not throw up?

Beware the Curse of Spring!

2006-03-03T11:45:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful day outside. Indeed, it seems as if Spring has arrived. Sunny, a little breezy, and warm.

In the daytime, at least.

The Curse
There are a few pieces to the curse, but they all revolve around my desire to ride in this beautiful weather, and my inability to do so.

First, there's the Spring cleaning. Why is it that things left undone for months NOW have to be cleaned? More importantly, why did we leave them undone for months? Saturdays in Spring are almost always set aside for this type of work, which cuts into those long Spring rides in warm weather you've been dreaming about for months.

Second, yardwork. I really don't like yardwork. This is evident by the frequency with which I mow my lawn in the summer. Of course, I tell people that grass thrives better when it is left long and then cut down all at once, but even I don't believe it. Saturday is another prime time for yardwork. Between Spring cleaning and yardwork, most afternoons are shot.

Finally, the third part of this wicked curse is the weather. Most people, myself included (which is why this post is being written in the first place), work in the day. As it turns out, this is really the only time when the weather is nice and balmy. When I do have time to ride (in the early morning pre-dawn hours), the temperature is still hovering around 30. Of course, I'm in that springtime mentality, so I don't quite dress warm enough in the morning and freeze.

Such is the Curse of Spring. I love it. I love the warm weather and the days getting longer. I only wish I could enjoy it on my bike.

Be careful, but not TOO careful

2006-02-27T13:52:00.000-07:00

While I was waiting for my new wheels to arrive for my Synapse, I spent some time going through the owner's manual. Most bicycle manuals are pretty boring--full of such interesting things as "going too fast may result in injury" and "make sure and install the proper reflectors all over the place" (to paraphrase).

There was, however, one section I actually read through. This was the section about owning a carbon fiber bicycle and the proper way to care for it. After all, I spent a lot of money on this bike, so I want it to last. In particular, it mentioned clamping carbon fiber. Never clamp a carbon bike in a work stand (by the frame). Instead, clamp the seatpost. It also pointed out the potential risk of over-tightening the the seatpost clamp--it could crack the frame.

As a consequence, when I went out for a "quick ride", deciding not to burden myself with tools, I found that my seat was slowly lowering. By the time I pinpointed the problem (it is, afterall, a new bike, so everything feels a little different), my seat had dropped about 1/2". Then, I decided to cut the ride short and turn around. I'm not sure if the slippage was exponential, but by the time I got home, it had dropped about 2".

Lesson 1: Don't overtighten the seatpost clamp, but make sure and tighten it enough. Of course, that leads to....

Lesson 2: ALWAYS bring tools on every ride. Which goes hand in hand with wearing a helmet and bringing water, etc.

A Parallel Universe
On Sunday, my wife was busy, so turned over the brownie making to me. I'm always nervous about cooking things correctly, so was naturally bothered by the cooking instructions: "Bake at 350 for 26-28 minutes or until center is set (do not overbake)." I was ruined when it added "do not overbake". I mean, of course I'm not supposed to overbake it, but by telling me that, I automatically start to worry about just that. So, after 29 minutes, I pulled it out of the oven, even though it might not have seemed totally done.

Like the seatpost, I found out that I didn't bake it enough. (There's a correlation there, just keep looking and you'll see it.) An hour later, after my wife came home, she turned on the oven to 350 and proceeded to bake it more, until it was actually done.

Lesson: Do not overbake.... but raw is no good, either.

And Finally...
Fortunately, I can buy a torque wrench for my bike and then I won't have to worry about it again. (Except when I do trail/road-side repairs, as I probably wouldn't bring the torque wrench with me.)

And with the brownies, I should have trusted the tried and true method of sticking a toothpick into the middle to tell if it was done. Failing that, leave the baking to my wife.

My New Ride

2006-02-24T10:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I don't have much time for eloquence today, but a number of you (the number 1, to be exact) have been asking to see pictures of the bike which, by the way, has arrived. So, I quickly snapped some shots and the best ones are posted here below.

I did go with carbon, and I did get the Topolino wheels. I finished putting it together and getting the wheels on and such last night/this morning around 1:30 AM. Therefore, the only riding I've done with it has been on my way to work today. Even with my 8lb notebook computer across my back, the ride was so nice. I LOVE the feel of those wheels. Very smooth, very light. They accelerate wonderfully. I'll go into more detail in another post after I have more time in the saddle. Also, look for a weight if I can ever find an accurate scale.

Replace your cleats

2006-02-02T09:51:00.000-07:00

Last night, I decided to replace the cleats on my shoes. Not only have I never felt the need to replace them, but I also have never felt the need to own seperate shoes for my road and mountain bikes. As a consequence, these cleats have seen a lot of miles... over about 3 years (give or take 6 months). What tiped me off that they needed replacing? Well, I felt there was vertical slop in the cleat-pedal interface. So, for your viewing enjoyment, here are the old cleats next to the new ones:

As you can see... they, um... REALLY needed replacing.

And the winner is...
All the votes are in, the polls are closed, and the judges have reached a decision. I am going to get a black Synapse. Most likely, I will get the Topolino wheels, once I sell the Mavic Ksyrium SLs... once my bike arrives. Any interested party should please contact me. Thanks for your votes!

You Decide My Fate*

2006-01-30T12:23:00.000-07:00

It is time. This week, I plan to purchase with my own hard-earned cash (which shows how much I loved it), a bike I reviewed not too long ago: the Cannondale Synapse. Being the unable-to-decide-on-my-own type, I'm struggling with which color to pick. So, I'm putting it up to you. Do I go for carbon, or silver.

Right on the heels of that decision: Do I keep the Ksyrium SLs, or go with a set of Topolinos? If I go with the Topolinos, anyone interested in a new set of Ksyrium SLs? I hope to order the bike sometime this week, so start posting! The Topolinos will shave a few grams off the bike, and they'd look cool with the matte carbon frame, but I can't buy them until I sell the Ksyriums... which means buying them might delay me being able to ride the bike by a few weeks.

Another thing to consider: There is snow on the ground, so even if I got it today, I wouldn't be riding out on the roads.

Do you see now why I can't decide?

*Note: I reserve the right to decide for myself, if I ever figure it out--though your comments will definately be considered.

Whoa! What happened to the time?

2006-01-19T11:15:00.000-07:00

My day job has been taking up entirely too much time. I'm starting to get through it, though, so I hope to post more. Meanwhile, James just posted a VERY comprehensive LED light review (probably the best on the net). Click here to read it.

All this time away from the blog has given me lots of ideas. Hopefully, I'll get them down and posted soon. Stay tuned...

My Office

2005-12-06T09:26:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here in my office, really enjoying the view. I'm lucky enough, that my daytime job plants my butt in a chair in an office on the third floor with a view facing Mt. Timpanogos. Today, it is snowing. I can't see the mountains and can hardly see the nearby office buildings. It is beautiful. I could stare for hours at it--though that would get me fired and away from this nice office.

My other office, where I do my work for GearReview, is much nicer, though. This morning, before coming in to this office, I was in that one. I was outside, playing--er, working--in the snow. Last night, I took the time to mount some studded tires (these) to my fully rigid mountain bike/commuter in preparation for some early morning "work". It was incredible. Crisp, clear, and no one out. It was only about 21 degrees, which was about 10 degrees warmer than I thought it would be, so I was in a good mood. And, though heavy, those tires are fun in the snow and ice. I really wish I could go back to my other office right now.

Search Engines

2005-12-05T13:40:00.000-07:00

The hardest job in the world is that of the search engine. Every day another lame website (or, more accurately, 1000 more websites and 100000 more blogs) is (are) added to the internet. Not to mention the changing content on a lot of the existing sites. Most of it is junk, spam, or the tired rantings of some weirdo you'd never feel safe meeting without the security of distance and the anonymity of the internet dividing you. And yet, with those obstacles, people (myself included) expect search engines to be the fastest sites. We expect, somehow to find what we are looking for--even though we don't know ourselves, much less are able to articulate what we want by entering in two or three words in a small text box.

Why do we expect so much from these poor, tired search engines? It really is their own fault: they deliver. They started this bad habit of returning good results when the internet was small and it cost more for people to connect. Back then, everything was slow, so there was less pressure. Now, computers are fast, connections are fast and both are much cheaper. Poor search engines. You must be tired.

And yet, people like me don't ever give them a break. Ever.

For some reason, lately www.google.com comes up slowly on my home connection (purportedly 15mb fiber). Also, searches for me or any of my reviews came up blank. What do I do. Like an ungrateful child, I run off to search.msn.com. Lo and behold, it is fast. In addition, and perhaps the most important part, it returns top ten results for most of my reviews and a search for Jon Sharp yields this blog as the first result. While some may read the first paragraph again and argue that MSN must not be doing a good job at qualifying their results if they return a blog as number 1 (and THIS blog, no less), I'm practically converted to MSN permanently.
Poor search engines. So many years of helping me out and I turn my back on Google at the drop of a hat. Believe me, Google, being slow and tired myself, I can sympathize.

Roof racks ... the memories come flooding back

2005-11-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

The Fat Cyclist asked for tales of woe regarding car racks. Here's mine:

I was going to BYU, and my brother and friend were living in Oregon. We had this great plan to drive to Mexico to go mountain biking. It was going to be an epic trip. My job was to drive myself and my bike from Utah to California to meet up with them before heading on. I had my bike on top of my car (you all know where this is going) and all my gear packed and I was heading out of the parking lot. Just as I was pulling out, I remembered that in the below-ground parking lot, in my apartment storage facility, I had left my sleeping bag. No problem, I slammed it in reverse and headed down the super steep ramp to the underground parking.

Crunch, scrape...

The car and rack took most of the force. I think I needed a new saddle and seatpost, and my Marzocchi Atom 80 didn't line up at the drop-outs like it used to--but not enough to stop me from using it. All four doors of the car (an 88 Honda Accord) were pried away from the roof, and the roof was dented on the four corners pretty well. It also did a number to my hood on which the mangled tangle of roof rack and bike landed. I was going way too fast to stop when I hit.

Besides the repair costs, we didn't go on the trip. In fact, we never made that trip. I'd like to say I learned my lesson, but when returning to school after a summer break (driving from Oregon to Utah with the bike on top really jogs the memory of a bike out of your mind) I was excited to see one of the coveted under-the-apartment parking spots open (different complex). Again, as was my driving style back in the day, I pulled in so quickly as to knock my bike right off the rack (same bike) before I realized what happened. I remember being embarrassed more than anything (for the bike, it was old hat), so I quickly scooped up the remains before anyone came out to see what the sound of scraping metal and concrete came from. At this point, my rack was loose enough (see previous accident above) that it really didn't damage my bike too much--mostly the bar-ends and, once again, the fork (which now resides on my wife's cob-web-adorned bike).

I still have a roof rack. I actually put my garage door opener in the back seat when I leave (and on extended trips, I put something in my garage in the way, preventing me from being able to pull in without getting out of my car and moving said item). I won't tell you how many times or how often moving the garage door opener has saved my bike/car.

HRMs aren't good for me.

2005-11-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

The only thing I really use my HRM (Heart Rate Monitor) for is to tell me how many calories I burn during a ride. (Well, occationally, I'll look at my current heart rate to determine if I'm working hard enough, but that's rare.) This morning, my 34 mile ride burned over 2800 kcals, according to my HRM. Good? No. Bad.

Very very bad.

Every year on Halloween, my work has trick-or-treating for the children of all the workers. Naturally, this being the day after, there's a bit of candy lying around here and there. When I walked in to work this morning, I was hungry (I also skipped breakfast) and saw all those "fun size" candy bars here and there in the office with plenty of people trying to get rid of them. I thought, hey, I just burned 2800 calories, I can handle a few tiny candy bars. Yes, a few probably would have been fine. Would 15 be fine?

No, 15 is bad.

I can tell you that without even stepping on a scale.

Ugh... stupid HRM.

Ride Before Dawn

2005-11-01T09:13:00.000-07:00

This morning, before 8 am, I went for a 34-mile bike ride. This ride would probably not even be challenging for most, but I'm a wimp, and it was early. However, rather than dwell on how cold it was, and how tired I was (and how tired I'm going to be this afternoon if I don't get some caffeine down me soon), I'd like to list of the top 5 reasons for getting up before dawn and going on a ride. (I was going to do the top ten, but I really couldn't think of that many.)

5. Crisp morning air.
This morning, it was particularly crisp at 35 degrees, but even in the summer, mornings seem clearer. Perhaps this aids in clearing my groggy, early-morning thoughts. There's something about getting your blood pumping and your lungs working that early in the morning. It gives me a better outlook on life.

4. Sets up the day to become a great day.
When I get to work, often things don't go well. Quite often, in fact. On days when I get up early to ride (and I should mention that if I'm going to ride before work, I have to start out in the dark to give me enough time to make it to work), it doesn't matter if work goes poorly because my day has already been great. It has already been a success.

3. Feeling of superiority over those still asleep.
Well, this one really was iffy. I mean, I feel that way sometimes when I ride, and it makes the tough times (cold, wet, tired) easier to bear, but it usually isn't reason enough to get up in the morning. (Those who don't get up usually site sanity as the main counter-point to this one.)

2. Fewer cars on the road.
This doesn't apply so much for off-road, but it is a huge deal for road riding, so I included it at number 2. Accidents on road-bikes generally happen due to cars and bikes trying to share the same space--sometimes the exact same space. Fewer cars = I feel safer and can enjoy the other points mentioned here.

1. Beautiful alpenglow/sunrise.
Honestly, when I am out alone, with no cars around and the sun starts to rise above the mountains (and just before that, when the sky is getting light and the mountains are silhouetted against it) makes any cold air or tired muscles disappear. Today in particular, was incredible. Over the weekend, Mt. Timpanogos has been dusted with snow down to about 8000'. As the sun was rising and caught that snow, highlighting it orange and pink, it was amazing. Though tired at the end of the ride, I would have done it all over again if I could have seen that sunrise over Mt. Timp. again.