After Terrible Two the weekend before, I swore I'd give up riding, sell all my riding gear, list my bike on Craigslist and never look back.
Instead, at 5:30 am on Saturday, June 25th, I was at the starting line with a couple hundred other people to tackle the 155 mile Climb to Kaiser. Purportedly one of the toughest bike rides in the country (according to Bicycling Magazine, but what do they know).
I was actually thinking about the Climb to Kaiser since early in the year and it was part of the original plan together with the Terrible Two. After my experience at TT, I thought that perhaps if I used only the EFS powder all ride long, and made sure I drank it and plenty of water as well, I might be able to get through a ride and still feel decent (and hungry) at the end.
So off we went. Boy did they ever set off. There was a Clovis PD car that served as a lead car through town and the first 20 miles, or so, before the first climb. Some guys were legitimately fast and had every reason (and physical ability, considering what lay before them) to go like bats out of hell from the opening gun. Others, like me, who should have known better, weren't legitimately fast and had no reason for taking off like they did. After 17 miles of 25 mph through the flat lands, I dropped out of the pace line and watched everyone move off in the distance. It was the smart thing to do. I'm not sure how much it helped or hurt by the end, but it's the second week in a row where I deviated from the plan too much.
Once I was on my own I settled down to a normal rhythm. I drank the EFS and water, I thought, pretty regularly. I used three 24 oz bottles of EFS and one of water in the first 45 miles.
As climbs go, the first two, Wildcat and Tollhouse were pretty mild, particularly Wildcat. Tollhouse had some sections that required some work, but the "wall" I was expecting to see in the last half mile, that everyone had warned about, wasn't much of a wall at all. Sure, it was a little steeper, but nothing too arduous.
The climb out of Big Creek is a brute. 4.5 miles, 10% average, 20% max. The road was in terrible condition. I can't imagine riding it in the opposite direction--steep, narrow, poor pavement, steep drop offs directly to the right. Nah--better to take this in from the Shaver Lake direction to Huntington Lake.
By this point, I was still feeling pretty good. I was still drinking. I did note, with some minor alarm, that it was burning when I had to pee. I don't know if it was because of what I was drinking, or if it was coincidental. I was beginning to feel the effects of the effort by the time we reached the rest stop at Huntington Lake, 69 miles in. This was also the lunch stop. I drank the second of two Ensure's. Went down okay. I tried to eat some other food, mostly fruits, but I was sensing the coming on of the stomach shutdown. Now it was just a matter of whether I could avoid it by drinking still more, eat more, eat something different? What?!
Just before the lunch stop I happened upon an old friend, Keith Cook, who's son, Roger, is a hotshot fast guy. Keith was one of those that took off fast in the morning so he could ride with his son for at least part of the day. We rode to the rest stop together, but he went on in order to catch sight of his son coming down from Kaiser Pass.
The last 8 miles up to Kaiser Pass were the longest of the day. My legs felt decent, but my head, my psyche was getting to me. Perhaps the altitude had something to do with it. I just didn't feel 100%, or anywhere near it. Going uphill, trying to calculate how long the climb would take. Not knowing what to expect. I saw Roger Cook come down about 6th place overall. I didn't seek Keith Cook coming back down until I was about a 1/2 mile from the top. It is weird how the summits seem to suddenly sneak up on you. Just when you think you've had enough, so has the mountain.
I'd managed to eat one GU at the Shaver Lake rest stop without (almost) gagging. I tried to eat (do you "eat" gels?) another at the top of Kaiser and had less luck. I got about 2/3 of it down, gagged, had to throw the rest out. I tried to eat a few other things, but I wanted to get rolling as quickly as possible. I wanted to get done.
The descent is a lot of fun, particularly once you're back on the main road, past the forest service gate. There was a lot of water on the road from melting snow. Enough that the lube on my chain was washed off and I had a noisy bike by the time I got back to Clovis. The watery roads nearly ruined my pair of Quackcyclists' socks, too!
Tamarack Ridge, normally, wouldn't be such a big deal, except for a little fatigue from what had gone before. I caught up with a young man and we rode together for a while. I kept noticing a car stopping and taking photos. At first, I thought he was one of those photogs that later places his digital images on his website for sale to the ride participants (like Photocrazy). Then I noticed that he kept leapfrogging me. I was getting a little paranoid. I finally realized that he wasn't stalking me, he was stalking this young man. And, it turns out, he wasn't stalking him. I asked the kid, "did you bring your own private photographer?" He said, "no. . . that's my dad." Mystery solved.
We worked together--I think we did anyway. I intended to, I don't know if he intended to. I could tell he was tired. But he kept a pretty good pace. I'd passed him earlier on the late portions of Kaiser Pass, but he caught back up to me on Tamarack.
After we crested the last of the 4 individual climbs that make up Tamarack and descended towards Shaver Lake, he ended up gapping me by a little bit. I was starting to feel really crappy by this point. I was getting nervous about the fact that, once to Shaver Lake, I still had 47 miles to go (and, while I knew that was mostly downhill, that certainly didn't mean ALL downhill).
Before reaching Shaver Lake I caught up to the kid again. We both stopped at the rest stop. I tried to eat and drink, made up another bottle of EFS. I opened a Pepsi and tried to drink some. Even the Pepsi made me gag. I got a sip down, gagged and shot it back through my nose. I was wiping Pepsi out of my nose for the next 15 miles. Not being able to eat, or drink, realizing that I still had a ways to go, I was getting panicky.
It was not all downhill to the next stop, but there was a lot of it. I caught up to Keith again in Auberry and we ended up riding in together the rest of the way. We passed the kid again--he hadn't stopped in Auberry. After we passed him, we didn't see him again. He ended up finishing about an hour after Keith and I.
Keith was running low on energy. I was absolutely dehydrated, lips were dry, mouth was a mess. Not totally out of energy, not a total bonk, but I was getting dangerously close--although not as bad as at the Terrible Two the week earlier.
Keith and I tried trading pulls. I think he probably got the raw end of the deal. I have to say that it really did work out better that we could ride together. We caught up with one other fellow at the Millerton Store rest stop, the last rest stop with just 16 miles to the end.
This fellow decided to ride in with us in order to benefit from a group. Despite the fact that we'd just caught up to him, he was obviously stronger than either Keith or me in those last 16 miles. It was weird in that occasionally I felt pretty good at the front, other times, just dead. I'm not sure how Keith felt, but he was saying he wasn't about completely out of gas.
I'm not quite sure how I made it in. I did. Together with Ray Winter of Fresno (a runner who got into biking at the urging of some friends while rehabbing a knee injury. He ran Boston this year, says he'll do one more Boston then stop marathons because it's too hard on the body). Nice guy, and patient with Keith and I.
After finishing, all I could do is sit in the shade and swear. I was having almost the same feelings I did at the end of the Terrible Two. Zero appetite. Completely fatigued. After a while, I managed to get a shower. Threw up in the shower. Felt a little better. Nothing to throw up. Nothing came up.
I tried some 7-Up, then we left about 6:30, or so. We stopped by the Foster's Freeze on Clovis Avenue. Linda had a vanilla shake. I opted out, but changed my mind and had a root beer smoothie. It went down well, and stayed down. I wished I'd had a larger size!
By the time we were near Merced I was willing to talk about solid food again. Then I pushed it to Turlock. We ended up at a Chipotle at 8:30 and I was able to down three tacos and a Coke. No problem. I have an appointment with a nutritionist on July 15th to talk about the problems I've had at the three long events this year--Central Coast, Terrible Two, and Climb to Kaiser.
I don't know if it is what I eat/drink, how much I eat/drink, a combination of the two. Whatever I've been doing isn't working. I'd like to finish these feeling tired, but strong, and with an appetite.
Keith, Ray, and I ended up in 11 hrs 19 minutes. Keith was 2 minutes better than his time last year. His son Roger did 5 minutes better than last year and finished in 9 hrs 26 minutes. The "winner" (in quotes since, technically, this was not a race) finished in 8 hours flat. He was the previous record holder in a time he shared with one other guy of 8 hrs 4 minutes. It would have been cool to see 7 hours 59 minutes. Keith, Ray and I were at about 41st out of 181 finishers. After having let all those folks go earlier, I don't know when/where I caught back up. It didn't seem I was passing anybody.
Big Creek is the location of a Southern California Edison powerplant. It's in an incredibly beautiful valley. The river that feeds the powerplant was flowing huge amounts of water, similar to what's happening at Yosemite it's being fed by a huge snowpack this year. One local rider and I talked a bit and he commented on the enormity of the flows--"it just doesn't happen like that usually."
Some of the views from Tollhouse and Big Creek climbs were amazing. From the top of Kaiser there wasn't really much to see.
I swore off the bicycle again, the second week in a row, after this ride. It's Tuesday evening following and I am holding firm so far.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Who is Jim Swarzman?
Jim Swarzman was killed by a driver on April 10, 2011, in Leucadia, CA, struck from behind while riding his bicycle.
He was riding an older bike with downtube shifters that I have seen in subsequent photos of him, including pictures of him at the Furnace Creek 508. The day I first met him he was wearing his Furnace Creek 508 jersey, which he'd explained he'd earned riding with his partner--whose name I did not learn, nor did I ever get the chance to meet, though I think she might have been at DMD in 2010. When I saw Jim again a few weeks later at the Central Coast Double I know she was there that time because Jim mentioned he was going to wait for her then, if memory serves, they were going to have to drive down to Escondido, or some far off south state town.
On Mines Rd. there is a small creek that runs across the road, maybe 10-12 feet wide. Not much to it, really. He slowed down, I thought, to keep his bike from getting too wet. Turns out he was slowing down so as not to create spray from the tires onto the 508 jersey. He said, "gotta respect the jersey." We didn't solve the world's problems, or discuss philosophy or politics. We just talked. Made a friend. Somehow we got split up at Junction and I didn't see him again at the DMD.
A few weeks later as I rode up to finish the Central Coast Double, Jim Swarzman was there on his bike, having just signed in himself. He greeted me with a hearty "hello, remember me from a few weeks ago at DMD?" I did right away, of course. We didn't talk much more than that. Just shared a short mutual congratulations on finishing and we parted ways. Me figuring I could look forward to seeing Jim again on future rides, him waiting for his girlfriend.
While searching for information on the California Triple Crown website, I saw this headline:
"Jim Swarzman, RIP "My Kind of Guy, and Cyclist" by Chris Kostman - Please share your memories here".
I could not believe what I was reading. I read or hear stories about cycling accidents all too frequently, but this one is the closest to hitting home than any others to date. It was a stunning loss, even to someone that barely knew the man.
For as long as the link to Chris Kostman's memorial works, here it is:
http://www.xo-1.org/2011/04/jim-swarzman-my-kind-of-guy-and-cyclist.html
Thanks to Chris Kostman and the various links and posts to the site he set up, I was able to learn much, much more about who Jim was, what he'd done. I am happy to have met Jim Swarzman, however briefly our paths had crossed. And I am sad that I will not see him again. I'm not typically a friendly fellow to other riders. Not because I'm a jerk, I simply feel I don't have a lot to say. It was impossible to not be friendly with Jim. I hope his family and friends find comfort in their memories of him.
Original links no longer function. Here are some newer links that can shed some more light on who Jim Swarzman was.
In the clear?
Sixty-Six, flat, easy miles today. Sloooowwwww pace. No knee pain at 2 hours. No pain at 3 hours!! No pain at 4 hours!!! Is it healed? Didn't do any climbing, no hard efforts. Just poked along "listening" to the knee.
I'll try again Sunday. With a climb, even.
I'll try again Sunday. With a climb, even.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Wet, Though Not Quite "Epic "
Linda and I rode the Solvang spring double century on March 26, 2011. We went against our better judgment, believing that the forecasts for rain were exaggerated. Watching the local news from our hotel room on Friday night confirmed it. The local weather guy, don't know if he was out of SLO or Santa Maria, said that the storm would stay to the north and "just brush" the area. We probably wouldn't see any rain at all or, if we did, it would be very light and quick to pass by.
Pffft. . . .
We chose to ride Solvang because we had waived Death Valley in February due to inclement weather (turned out that time that it didn't rain all that much but they did have terrific headwinds). I rode Solvang last year, liked it well enough, but the ride lacks the vibe of the club-run centuries and double centuries. And, boy, the gal from Planet Ultra, the ride promoter, that was checking riders out in the morning, and then back in the evening, she was a cranky ol' thing. Sure, it was a long day. Sure, it was probably for very little reward. But geez, she couldn't have been more dour and ill-tempered if she tried. I don't know who she is, I don't know her name, I don't know her story. All I do know is that her collective experience that day must have worn on her from the start.
Linda took off from the lovely Buellton Days Inn at about 5 am. I guess this Days Inn is famous, or something:
http://www.daysinn.com/DaysInn/control/Booking/property_info?propertyId=11567
I was a little too cold and waited until 6:30. Looking at the sky, there was some overcast but rain was nowhere near imminent. So far, so good.
I'm a little odd in that I expect to ride doubles alone. I don't want to draft anybody, and I don't invite anyone to draft off of me. I figure it's my 200 miles to ride and I'm going to ride all of them. It's hard sometimes to see a big group go powering by and letting it go. Particularly when it contains a few people that you passed earlier. So it was with some folks that I happened to leave the hotel with about the same time. They were going just fast enough where getting in front of them would have been faster than I wanted to go (they'd have seen it as a challenge), but they were going just slow enough where I didn't like following. I finally got to get around them when we hit a short hill just going into Solvang. They slowed way down and I slipped by them. A few minutes later they, and about 20 others, came motoring by behind a tandem.
I was feeling pretty good. I was worrying about my knee because it had been giving me problems since I whacked it against the corner bedpost of our bed back on February 16th. The Doc classified it as a "periosteal bruise", a bond bruise, of my knee cap. It's the stupidest thing. It doesn't hurt when I walk, it's almost like it disappears when I'm not on the bike. The last few weeks it would hibernate for the first 2-3 hours of a ride and then rear its head with a vengeance. I was listening closely for any sense of discomfort in that knee. Actually, did pretty well. Three hours came and went and all was good. I didn't experience any pain sufficient enough to even slow me down, although I could tell that it was irritated. After the ride, though, hoo-boy. There was a great deal of pain. I drove from Buellton to Jerry's house in Cayucos and it hurt my knee just to pivot my foot on my heel to switch from the gas pedal to the brake pedal and back. I was very nervous, thinking that I'd really screwed it up. It acted up the same way while driving home Sunday and actually felt like a real knee injury for a while there. . . it hurt even when I wasn't on the bike. By Monday, though, it was almost as if nothing had happened. It's the stupidest thing.
The sky never really looked all that bad all morning. I passed the first rest stop and it was looking pretty good. We almost made it all the way to the 2nd stop at around mile 86 when the first drops arrived. It was obvious looking north towards Morro Bay that it was going to be wet for a while. I though that maybe it'd rain while we headed north and then quit sometime after the turn back towards Buellton. Nothing doing. It rained the entire time (with few breaks) theraefter.
It was relentless. And it was strange how much a toll it took by the end of the day. When it first started it filled my shoes immediately with water. I could deal with that. Wet's wet, I figured, and once wet, you can't get any wetter, right?
It's a good thing the temps were relatively mild as I didn't have full finger gloves or anything on my legs (just shorts). The long fingered gloves probably would have been just as bad, or even worse, unless they were waterproof gloves. Even so, later in the ride I was having trouble squeezing my water bottles or using my hands at all. I could barely operate the shifters. I don't know how much the poor shifting performance I was experiencing was due to my hands, and how much was due to the impact of the water and grit build up. Even today, April 6th, I still note some weakness in my grip of my right hand.
Except for my hands, though, I really didn't feel all that bad. The legs were good, for the most part. My arms, back, neck, etc., were all good.
It's amazing what the rain and grit did to the bike though. There was so much sand and crud being thrown up on the bike and clothes and everywhere. On top of that, the ag fields close by the roads had mud tracks from trucks/tractors/etc. entering and exiting the fields. The roads, particularly around Guadalupe, were a filthy mess. Throw on top of that the poor road surface, the rain, just everything made it a mess to deal with.
You'd apply the brakes and wince as you heard the rims being sanded away by the grit build up on the brake pads and on the braking surface of the wheels. I figure there was a good 6-7 hours of hard rain and sopping wet conditions. Water got into every place imaginable on the bike. My front brake pads were worn to nubs, my rear pads weren't much better.
And, oh, man the flat tires!! I didn't have any, but a lot of other people did. I never saw so many people pulled over to the side of the road repairing flats. I was amazed, and nervous waiting for my turn. For whatever reason I was spared.
I had some muscle issues in my left thigh that disappeared quickly after finishing. My right knee left me pretty well alone. It never felt badly, and never raised cause for concern or gave me thoughts of needing to stop. After the ride, though, it hurt like hell. It was worrisome because it was hurting AFTER I'd quit riding. Every other time before now, it would hurt while riding, then stop when I stopped riding. This time it stayed. I drove to Cayucos after the ride and drove the trip home to El Dorado. Pivoting my right foot on my heel to operate the gas/brake in the car caused a great deal of pain. I thought I'd blown it for good and I'd be out of riding for months. After we got home Sunday night, I iced it. Iced it as much as I could Monday. By Monday night, it was slightly tender to the touch, but that was it. It almost, very nearly felt normal. Bizarre.
So. . . very wet. Screwed up the bike big time. Cold hands, but everything else was working pretty well. Dirty roads. Rough roads. Wet. Mud. Grit. Wet. Rusty, dry chain. It was messy, but not quite epic. My ride last year in France doing the Marmotte route. . . THAT was epic.
Linda had her own story. She had to bag it at the last rest stop with about 25 miles to go because of a broken cable restricting her to just 1 or 2 gears. She wasn't sure what was ahead and people were telling her the climbing was hellacious, so she bagged it. Which was too bad because 1) the climbs weren't bad, and 2) she was SO close. God bless her.
Pffft. . . .
We chose to ride Solvang because we had waived Death Valley in February due to inclement weather (turned out that time that it didn't rain all that much but they did have terrific headwinds). I rode Solvang last year, liked it well enough, but the ride lacks the vibe of the club-run centuries and double centuries. And, boy, the gal from Planet Ultra, the ride promoter, that was checking riders out in the morning, and then back in the evening, she was a cranky ol' thing. Sure, it was a long day. Sure, it was probably for very little reward. But geez, she couldn't have been more dour and ill-tempered if she tried. I don't know who she is, I don't know her name, I don't know her story. All I do know is that her collective experience that day must have worn on her from the start.
Linda took off from the lovely Buellton Days Inn at about 5 am. I guess this Days Inn is famous, or something:
http://www.daysinn.com/DaysInn/control/Booking/property_info?propertyId=11567
I was a little too cold and waited until 6:30. Looking at the sky, there was some overcast but rain was nowhere near imminent. So far, so good.
I'm a little odd in that I expect to ride doubles alone. I don't want to draft anybody, and I don't invite anyone to draft off of me. I figure it's my 200 miles to ride and I'm going to ride all of them. It's hard sometimes to see a big group go powering by and letting it go. Particularly when it contains a few people that you passed earlier. So it was with some folks that I happened to leave the hotel with about the same time. They were going just fast enough where getting in front of them would have been faster than I wanted to go (they'd have seen it as a challenge), but they were going just slow enough where I didn't like following. I finally got to get around them when we hit a short hill just going into Solvang. They slowed way down and I slipped by them. A few minutes later they, and about 20 others, came motoring by behind a tandem.
I was feeling pretty good. I was worrying about my knee because it had been giving me problems since I whacked it against the corner bedpost of our bed back on February 16th. The Doc classified it as a "periosteal bruise", a bond bruise, of my knee cap. It's the stupidest thing. It doesn't hurt when I walk, it's almost like it disappears when I'm not on the bike. The last few weeks it would hibernate for the first 2-3 hours of a ride and then rear its head with a vengeance. I was listening closely for any sense of discomfort in that knee. Actually, did pretty well. Three hours came and went and all was good. I didn't experience any pain sufficient enough to even slow me down, although I could tell that it was irritated. After the ride, though, hoo-boy. There was a great deal of pain. I drove from Buellton to Jerry's house in Cayucos and it hurt my knee just to pivot my foot on my heel to switch from the gas pedal to the brake pedal and back. I was very nervous, thinking that I'd really screwed it up. It acted up the same way while driving home Sunday and actually felt like a real knee injury for a while there. . . it hurt even when I wasn't on the bike. By Monday, though, it was almost as if nothing had happened. It's the stupidest thing.
The sky never really looked all that bad all morning. I passed the first rest stop and it was looking pretty good. We almost made it all the way to the 2nd stop at around mile 86 when the first drops arrived. It was obvious looking north towards Morro Bay that it was going to be wet for a while. I though that maybe it'd rain while we headed north and then quit sometime after the turn back towards Buellton. Nothing doing. It rained the entire time (with few breaks) theraefter.
It was relentless. And it was strange how much a toll it took by the end of the day. When it first started it filled my shoes immediately with water. I could deal with that. Wet's wet, I figured, and once wet, you can't get any wetter, right?
It's a good thing the temps were relatively mild as I didn't have full finger gloves or anything on my legs (just shorts). The long fingered gloves probably would have been just as bad, or even worse, unless they were waterproof gloves. Even so, later in the ride I was having trouble squeezing my water bottles or using my hands at all. I could barely operate the shifters. I don't know how much the poor shifting performance I was experiencing was due to my hands, and how much was due to the impact of the water and grit build up. Even today, April 6th, I still note some weakness in my grip of my right hand.
Except for my hands, though, I really didn't feel all that bad. The legs were good, for the most part. My arms, back, neck, etc., were all good.
It's amazing what the rain and grit did to the bike though. There was so much sand and crud being thrown up on the bike and clothes and everywhere. On top of that, the ag fields close by the roads had mud tracks from trucks/tractors/etc. entering and exiting the fields. The roads, particularly around Guadalupe, were a filthy mess. Throw on top of that the poor road surface, the rain, just everything made it a mess to deal with.
You'd apply the brakes and wince as you heard the rims being sanded away by the grit build up on the brake pads and on the braking surface of the wheels. I figure there was a good 6-7 hours of hard rain and sopping wet conditions. Water got into every place imaginable on the bike. My front brake pads were worn to nubs, my rear pads weren't much better.
And, oh, man the flat tires!! I didn't have any, but a lot of other people did. I never saw so many people pulled over to the side of the road repairing flats. I was amazed, and nervous waiting for my turn. For whatever reason I was spared.
I had some muscle issues in my left thigh that disappeared quickly after finishing. My right knee left me pretty well alone. It never felt badly, and never raised cause for concern or gave me thoughts of needing to stop. After the ride, though, it hurt like hell. It was worrisome because it was hurting AFTER I'd quit riding. Every other time before now, it would hurt while riding, then stop when I stopped riding. This time it stayed. I drove to Cayucos after the ride and drove the trip home to El Dorado. Pivoting my right foot on my heel to operate the gas/brake in the car caused a great deal of pain. I thought I'd blown it for good and I'd be out of riding for months. After we got home Sunday night, I iced it. Iced it as much as I could Monday. By Monday night, it was slightly tender to the touch, but that was it. It almost, very nearly felt normal. Bizarre.
So. . . very wet. Screwed up the bike big time. Cold hands, but everything else was working pretty well. Dirty roads. Rough roads. Wet. Mud. Grit. Wet. Rusty, dry chain. It was messy, but not quite epic. My ride last year in France doing the Marmotte route. . . THAT was epic.
Linda had her own story. She had to bag it at the last rest stop with about 25 miles to go because of a broken cable restricting her to just 1 or 2 gears. She wasn't sure what was ahead and people were telling her the climbing was hellacious, so she bagged it. Which was too bad because 1) the climbs weren't bad, and 2) she was SO close. God bless her.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Ailment
So my doctor tells me he thinks my knee issue, lovingly brought on by a tangle (or near tangle) with my cat, is a "periosteal bruise". I guess there's a thin membrane, or tissue, or something covering some (all?) of our bones--kneecap in my case--that can be bruised and take months to heal. I don't know. Sounds good to me. I've not put it to the test since by ride to Elk Grove on March 12th. Everything I've done since then has been pretty low intensity, and short duration. I've ridden only 143 miles since the 12th. Not a great way to start off the cycling season.
On deck--Solvang Double March 26th (looks like it'll be wet), Devil Mtn Double in April, Central Coast Double in May, Terrible Two and Climb to Kaiser in June, and probably one more double after that. Unless Linda and I decide to go on the Sac Wheelmen Oregon Tour in late July. It interferes with the Mt Tam Double so we're trying to figure out which we want to do.
On deck--Solvang Double March 26th (looks like it'll be wet), Devil Mtn Double in April, Central Coast Double in May, Terrible Two and Climb to Kaiser in June, and probably one more double after that. Unless Linda and I decide to go on the Sac Wheelmen Oregon Tour in late July. It interferes with the Mt Tam Double so we're trying to figure out which we want to do.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
My Cat's Got It In For Me
My Tormentor, giving the Evil Eye
On February 22, 2011, while simply traversing the doorway to my bedroom, Tycho got under foot and, in order to avoid stepping right on him, I ran my right knee directly into the corner bedpost. It hurt like any other blow to the knee. . . figured it'd hurt a couple of days, develop a bruise, and then it'd be all over. That was a Tuesday. On Thursday, while on the trainer, the knee hurt and I quickly figured, hmm, okay, that's from that blow to the knee.
I rode 65 miles Saturday without any discomfort. The next day, though, Linda and I rode to Davis from Folsom (with The Habit at the turnaround) and by about 1/4 of the way back on the return trip, my knee started to hurt a little bit. Then a little more, and more. It hurt while sitting, hurt worse while standing. It was tough to pinpoint the exact cause since it seemed to be sensitive to the touch only at the point the knee made impact with the bedpost, but the pain enveloped the whole front of the knee. If I'd stop for a few minutes and start riding again, the pain would disappear for a few miles and then start up again. It was quite debilitating, more so from the standpoint over concern whether I'd do more damage by continuing to ride.
Made it home. . . knee didn't hurt. No pain while walking, though still painful if the point of impact was touched. I didn't turn a pedal for five days. By Friday it felt pretty good. No pain to the touch. Figured I was good to ride Saturday. Rode with the Revolutions folks. El Dorado Hills out Salmon Falls to 49, over to Prospector, Georgetown, Cool, back to Pilot Hill where we parted ways. I headed to do the out-and-back on Rattlesnake Bar Rd while the rest of the crew headed back to EDH.
About 2 miles into the 9 towards Folsom Lake, there goes my knee again--just as savagely as the week before. This time, too, there were tendon issues behind my left knee--hopefully unrelated. I couldn't decide whether to continue, turn back or what. It wasn't like I could just stop and climb into the car, I had about 25 miles to go before I could get back to the car.
I made it out to the lake, rested it for a while and the 9 miles back to Pilot Hill were a little better, but the pain was still hampering my ability to climb, or apply any power up a hill. For whatever reason, after that, things went pretty well the rest of the way back on Salmon Falls.
Post-ride, the knee was hurting like it was before my 5 days off. Today, March 8th, it still hurts like it did two weeks ago. No pain to walk, just riding. And it seems the easier the pedal stroke the more it hurts. It's driving me mad. Stay off the bike completely for another week? Two?
I'm supposed to ride the Solvang Double in two weeks--when am I supposed to get some miles in? It's such a stupid injury, doubly so not knowing what it is I did. I'm falling behind in training. The first Folsom Canal time trials were today--wanted to do that series this year. I've got Devil Mountain next month, Central Coast in May, Terrible Two and Climb to Kaiser in June. I've got to be getting in some miles!!
I'm supposed to see a doctor Monday or Tuesday. It'll be three weeks since the injury by that time. Too bad I'm not on anybody's payroll, a doctor would have seen me by now!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Bass Lake Powerhouse Double Century 2010
Okay, so it's not all Europe. With this entry I make a decidedly domestic turn by describing my double century of October 9, 2010.
Linda and I drove to Clovis Friday night, October 8, to be there in plenty of time to rest up and ride the Bass Lake Powerhouse Double Century hosted by the Fresno Cycling Club on Saturday morning. This was my second time to the event, Linda’s first. It was particularly important for Linda because, if completed, it would be her third double century of the year and, thus, she would be a “California Triple Crown” winner:
I’ll let Linda describe her full story elsewhere. We woke up at 3 a.m., hoping to be at the start around 4. Linda was a little nervous about the midnight cutoff time for completion so wanted to start as early as she could. Despite our best efforts, we headed out a little later than we hoped. We stopped by Denny’s for our traditional pre-ride meal: the trusty Grand Slam (original). Not sure of the calorie count, carbs, protein, etc., but it’s served us well these past two years (I don’t eat Denny’s any other time).
We arrived at the ride start at a little after 4 a.m. and we should have started at around 4:15. We went through equipment checks prior to having left our house Friday morning and again in Clovis on Friday night. We tested Linda’s light Friday night. Check. I had inflated tires Friday morning before we left. Check. Once at the ride start, we got the bikes out. Linda plugged her light in, flipped the switch. Nothing. Unplug it, plug it back in. Nothing. Nite Rider. Bah! Stupid thing. I know the battery was fully charged—it was charged Thursday night. I saw it plugged in and charging. I have no idea what happened.
Next, I take my bike out of the back of the car and set it on the ground. Instead of the solid, reassuring, almost bouncy feedback when the rear tire makes contact with the ground I got the tell-tale thud of a flat tire. What the. . . ? I just pumped that thing up!! I hadn’t ridden it since the Sunday before. The tire was only about 5 pounds low on pressure when I pumped it up. It didn’t make any sense. It was completely flat. How do I get a flat tire without riding the thing??
Not exactly the start to the day that inspires confidence. I repaired the flat. Linda left a few minutes before me with her helmet light only. She bought this AMAZINGLY bright flashlight (Fenix PD30—the thing’s awesome) that she intended to use later, after dark, just to be sure, in case her Nite Rider used all its juice. Without the Nite Rider, the flashlight was her intended light for the evening. The only problem was she wasn’t sure how long the batteries would last. She chose not to use it in the morning to conserve the batteries. She started about 4:36, I left after her at 4:57. Once I caught up I rode with her using my headlight as a guide, the Mity Cross 350 (now that’s a fine light) until the sun rose, which worked out to be right about the same time we reached the first rest stop at around mile 35.5.
The morning temps were tolerable without arm/knee warmers, though still cold enough to affect my ability to squeeze liquid out of my water bottles. I hate that feeling—trying to will the hands to work, but they won’t cooperate. Oh it’s completely safe, I can still hold the handlebars, shift gears, use the brakes. I just can’t squeeze a water bottle.
The first 73 miles of this double are almost perfectly flat. Kinda dull most of the second half of that. Lot’s of pace lines these first miles. There was a tandem which, of course, was followed by dozens of suckers-on. For myself, I choose to ride alone, sans pace lines. If it’s true that a rider expends up to 20%-30% less energy riding in a pace line then it appears to me (assuming the lower 20% figure) that pace line participants effectively ride only 160 miles (20% of 200 = 40 from 200 = 160). Personally, I figure if I signed up for 200 miles, I want to ride 200 miles. I need to feel I’ve accomplished it on my own. (I-Linda usually can’t hang on to a pace line so that isn’t an option for me!!!).
I suppose I could do these doggone things faster if I rode pace lines; but, for now, I’ll ride my own rides. Plus, the pace lines can be downright hazardous to your health, what with unfamiliar riders, inexperienced riders, etc.
As Linda and I were getting ready to leave the first rest stop, the mass starters that left at 5:15 were arriving in a big ol’ pack. I left the first rest stop far enough ahead to where one small group caught me about 12 miles later, then the big tandem-led group caught me about 6 miles from the 2nd rest stop.
One fellow picked up my tail as I passed him and he rode with me a while. We had a chance to close in on the first pace line that had passed us and he suggested we take off after them. I told him, “no thanks, I ride on my own.” He must have thought I was some kind of idiot. Must have sounded like one, I admit. He took off after them but gave up after a few minutes and fell back in behind me where he stayed for the next 10 miles, or so, until the tandem train went by. He latched on to them and away he went, with probably fifty other people.
We all met up again at the next rest stop (along with the first pace line, too). It’s a hassle letting these pace lines go by because, for a few moments, you’re going the same speed. I do everything I can to dropout of the draft, off to one side, or the other, wishing they’d get past so I could get back to my own thing.
I did see one crash, but it didn’t involve the pace lines. On Piedra Rd, just after my first rest stop, there was a group of 3-4 other folks coming the other direction (very early starters on their way to the 2nd rest stop). All of a sudden, one of the guys is down in the road rolling around. I don’t what he did, I think he must have clipped the back wheel of the woman in front of him. He was up quickly and there were 4-5 other riders there to assist. I stopped to be polite, but there was nothing one more guy standing around gawking at him was going to do, so I continued on. I saw him later on at the post-ride meal—he did finish looking none the worse for wear. . . a rip in his shorts, bandaged, blood soaking through. Poor guy.
After the first rest stop the climbing began. The vast majority of this ride’s estimated 9400 feet of climbing comes in the 87 miles between rest stops #2 and #5 (or between miles 73 and 160). None of the early climbing is particularly strenuous (depending, of course, on how fast you’re trying to climb it). The climbs around Pine Flat Lake are pretty tame. The roads near Pine Flat Lake are most interesting because of the tarantulas seen crossing the road. I counted four—I missed them all (on purpose). I didn’t need tarantula guts all over my frame or wheels or, heaven forbid, on ME.
I saw Garth Powell, the fellow that I followed blindly the wrong way in the 2009 edition cutting off 23 miles. I made a comment to him asking him if he’d stayed on course this year. I don’t think he heard me or, if he did, he ignored me. The guy never admitted to having shortened the course. I heard him after the ride Saturday night saying how his time was way off last year’s and how he was just so tired at a certain section. “Sometimes it just works out that way.” Well, yeah, dipstick, you rode only 177 miles last year!!
Honestly, I don’t care much for the scenery around Pine Flat Lake. Once we steered away from the lake towards Tollhouse and Auberry, the scenery improved, for me, significantly.
After the lunch stop in Auberry the heart of the climbing came in. Following a fabulous descent to Kerckhoff Lake the most significant climb up Powerhouse Rd to North Fork was on hand. It has steep stretches, probably 10%-12%, but these weren’t too long. The weather cooperated fully. I imagine this area can be an oven midsummer—minimal shade, canyon, etc. We were lucky to have temps in the upper 70’s-low 80’s I’d guess. I don’t know the total length of the climb. . . 5 miles? 6? I was happy to see it end at North Fork.
Next was a relatively simple looking climb on Road 274 to Pines Resort on Bass Lake. This 7-8 mile stretch was my traditional “what-the-heck-am-I-doing-here”, “why-am-I-doing-this” moment that comes up at some point in almost every double I’ve done. I don’t know why here. . . after the initial mile, or so, it wasn’t steep, and it was occasionally downhill here and there. I was just a little limp, counting the pedal strokes. At one point I thought I was doing okay because I could see I’d closed the gap on the guy that had left before me from Auberry. As soon as I’d caught sight of him, though, he almost as quickly faded into the distance as I faded a bit. I made it, though. I felt much better thereafter, having been able to eat and drink a bit.
The climb back out of Kerckhoff Lake on Powerhouse Rd. back to Auberry was the last significant climb and came after the huge downhill that we’d come up earlier. Linda was worried about going back up to Auberry from this direction, much as I felt last year after having gone down and then fearing what it was going to be like to go back up on the way back. It’s not nearly as hard as the impression it gives. It’s steady, only one or two steep portions. Piece of cake.
On the way down Powerhouse, en route to this final climb, Linda’s and my paths crossed. I figured I’d see her coming up so I was on the lookout for her. I called out when I saw her, downshifted to turn back up hill, and she stopped to talk for a moment. She was feeling good, looking good. A little nauseous. After a few moments, we continued on our ways. Linda had spoken with Scott Halverson of the Quackcyclists in the morning at one of the early rest stops. She mentioned her Nite Rider situation and Scott saved her with an extra light he just happened to have with him that he loaned to her. So she was set for nighttime. She had her helmet light, her Fenix flashlight, and Scott’s loaner. The flashlight, by the way, had a clip on it, similar to what you’d see on a pen, that allowed her to clip the flashlight, pointing the right direction, to bag she carries on the front of her bike.
A little ways down from where I saw Linda I came across another rider sitting in the shade, on the ground, next to his bike. I thought there was a mechanical issue, so I slowed to ask if everything was alright. He said he was feeling what he feared were the early signs of heat stroke. He said he’d been sitting there for 15 minutes trying to gather his wits. He said he’d been waiting for a SAG vehicle but none had come by. I asked if he was having any cardiac issues we needed to worry about, he said no. I told him that I’d flag down the next SAG I saw, and let the folks know at the next rest stop in Auberry that rider #310 was having trouble and to watch out for him. I did have a SAG pass me, which I flagged down. He was coming from the direction where #310 was sitting and the driver said he hadn’t seen anyone. He drove back once more to look, nothing. He drove ahead to let the Auberry staff know what was up.
Once back at Auberry for a short refueling, the last 40 miles raced by. Except for just two little hills that I can recall, maybe three if you count the little hill on Auberry Rd after leaving the last rest stop, it was all downhill or flat. After 160 miles, though, these little hills are sappers. Thankfully quite short. Anyway, I was feeling pretty good and was having thoughts to simply skip the last rest stop. I did stop briefly to give my number and have a small snack. I wanted to finish and it was just a short 15 miles to the end. I made pretty good time, considering.
I passed the point where I flatted last year—so far the only flat I’ve had during a double in 11 finishes (I don’t count the one from the morning because it happened before I’d even started. Looking at the tube afterwards, it appears the base of the stem weakened and a hole was formed. Maybe I bent it too hard to one side, I don’t know).
I was in at 5:58 p.m., 13 hrs 1 minute total time, 12 hrs 1 minute riding time, 16.7 mph avg. I still need to figure out how to cut down on rest stop times. An hour seems like a long time.
Linda called me at 8:41 p.m. from the Auberry rest stop, on her way back, 40 miles to go. At first I feared whether she’d make the midnight cutoff time, forgetting how fast the final 40 miles are. She rolled in at somewhere just after 10:30 p.m. Great ride. Made her “Triple Crown”. Finished up the last 40 miles in under 2 hours, including 1 stop. She had riders lined up behind her because of the brightness of her flashlight.
Who crossed the finish line with Linda? #310, Steve Robenalt from Cameron Park, CA, just down the road from us. He told me at the finish that after he spoke with me earlier in the afternoon he thought he was feeling better and figured he’d at least start walking. He saw the same SAG guy I saw drive up, stop, ask how he was doing, and told him he was fine. Steve said that after a few more minutes he was feeling better still, got back on the bike and kept going.
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