Brian and I stopped at a scenic turnout on Skyline Rd. yesterday to check on a voicemail to make sure the caller wasn't Todd warning us he'd be late or worse, not riding. It was 6:00 a.m. and dark. There was a van parked in the turnout. I had my helmet light on full blast because we'd been descending and I hadn't switched it to a lower output. Anyway, I stood there checking the message. It turned out the message was an abusive from my friend Chris who questioned my manhood because the past two years I'd ridden only five double centuries a year, while in 1939, a British racer Tommy Godwin rode 75,065 miles, which is over 205.6 miles a day for 365 days (Tommy Godwin's 1939). Since neither Brian nor I was particularly keen on descending into fog in 37-degree temps on wet Tunnel Road to meet Todd who was climbing toward us, Brian waited while I stood there, heaping abuse on Chris on my Blackberry. Suddenly the van started up, the driver pulled out of the turnout and made a 3-point turn. As he did so, he rolled down the window and gruffly said, "What's the problem?" We said, "No problem" and cracked up. He drove away. We had no idea there was anyone in the van and, obviously, my headlamp woke up the occupant. I think we found it funny because it was so unexpected. You had to be there, I guess.
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Friday, December 4, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
New Bike and Not New Bikes
I've been riding my Spectrum very happily for nearly two months now. After about a month on it, I was curious to see how it compares to my Parlee Z1x, the bike on which I rode Leipheimer Gran Fondo and which I adored for its smoothness and comfort. So, two weeks ago, I rode the Parlee. It felt stiff and dead compared to the Spectrum. I was forced to ride gears 3-4 cogs lower than those I ride on the Spectrum. Just confirmed the unique fitness of the Spectrum to my riding style.
Then, during the Thanksgiving break, my family visited my father-in-law in Palm Springs, whose garage houses my 1982 Picchio bike, which I ride when I'm down there. This bike is quite different from the Spectrum. The Picchio is steel frame and fork, the cranks are 1cm shorter, and chainrings are round rather than oval (I'm a big fan of Rotor Q-rings), the bars are lower than I like, and the saddle is about 1.5cm farther forward due to short saddle rails of the Brooks B-17. It took a while to get used to the Picchio, but after a while it felt good and lively. I rode it twice: a 3-hour flat ride and a 4.5-hour ride that had 1.5 hour of flats, 2 hours of climbing and almost an hour of descent. It was good on climbs and flats, not so great on descents due to super-low bars (no room to raise them the way the bike is set up).
We got back and I eagerly rode the Spectrum. Soooo nice............
.
Then, during the Thanksgiving break, my family visited my father-in-law in Palm Springs, whose garage houses my 1982 Picchio bike, which I ride when I'm down there. This bike is quite different from the Spectrum. The Picchio is steel frame and fork, the cranks are 1cm shorter, and chainrings are round rather than oval (I'm a big fan of Rotor Q-rings), the bars are lower than I like, and the saddle is about 1.5cm farther forward due to short saddle rails of the Brooks B-17. It took a while to get used to the Picchio, but after a while it felt good and lively. I rode it twice: a 3-hour flat ride and a 4.5-hour ride that had 1.5 hour of flats, 2 hours of climbing and almost an hour of descent. It was good on climbs and flats, not so great on descents due to super-low bars (no room to raise them the way the bike is set up).
We got back and I eagerly rode the Spectrum. Soooo nice............
.
Blog Clean-up
The blog had become polluted with short notes about daily rides, diluting its purpose -- stories of long and epic rides. So, I got rid of them, though I'll continue posting stuff that's interesting to me, amusing, brief, and possibly unrelated to the stated goals. Such as the immediately preceding post.
.
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Friday, November 6, 2009
Riding in the rain, all high and mighty
An e-mail exchange:
original e-mail: -- I'm not sure I'm desperate enough to ride in the wet...
my reply: -- It's not about desperation, it's about dedication :-p
(Guess I better get out there tomorrow, rain or shine.)
:-)
.
original e-mail: -- I'm not sure I'm desperate enough to ride in the wet...
my reply: -- It's not about desperation, it's about dedication :-p
(Guess I better get out there tomorrow, rain or shine.)
:-)
.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
OT: when life gives lemons
A friend was up for partner at my law firm. He played by the rules: sucked up to all the right people, gave lots of presentations to influential people in the industry, built up a decent book of business, did excellent work, and was very well regarded. Superiors in his department assured him that he was doing everything right and gave him the impression that he would make partner this year. He really wanted this.
He didn't make it. The firm announced 10 new partners this morning: 8 "income" and 2 "equity" and he isn't among them.
He didn't come to work today. I tried calling him several times, but could not reach him. Of course I am pissed off on his behalf. And you can't help but look at the people who were promoted and compare them and wonder why the people whose opinions mattered chose them instead of him or maybe others who were passed over. I know several of them but not that well. They are fine lawyers, and I have some idea why two of them deserve this promotion, but not the others. Why them and not my friend? Though I am sure they don't promote the undeserving at my firm, they just don't promote all the deserving. And what or how much more does one have to do to get partnership? How much more ass-kissing, public speaking, politicking, etc. does one have to do to get the brass ring?
Not surprisingly, thoughts turn to fragility of our job security. What's worse, waiting for a promotion that doesn't come or sweating out a new round of layoffs...? Probably the latter, but my friend sure got screwed yesterday.
.
He didn't make it. The firm announced 10 new partners this morning: 8 "income" and 2 "equity" and he isn't among them.
He didn't come to work today. I tried calling him several times, but could not reach him. Of course I am pissed off on his behalf. And you can't help but look at the people who were promoted and compare them and wonder why the people whose opinions mattered chose them instead of him or maybe others who were passed over. I know several of them but not that well. They are fine lawyers, and I have some idea why two of them deserve this promotion, but not the others. Why them and not my friend? Though I am sure they don't promote the undeserving at my firm, they just don't promote all the deserving. And what or how much more does one have to do to get partnership? How much more ass-kissing, public speaking, politicking, etc. does one have to do to get the brass ring?
Not surprisingly, thoughts turn to fragility of our job security. What's worse, waiting for a promotion that doesn't come or sweating out a new round of layoffs...? Probably the latter, but my friend sure got screwed yesterday.
.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
New Bike
I have about 200 miles on my new titanium Spectrum over the course of six rides. By now, I believe I can give an objective impression of its ride rather than one colored by new bike euphoria. The bike is unlike any I've ridden. Over the past 10 years I've owned and ridden seven custom bikes, most of which I no longer own. Each had its signature characteristics. If I got on one of these bikes and rode an unpainted, undecalled frame I believe I'd be able to identify the frame. Though each was built just for me, they are that distinct. So, when I contacted Tom Kellogg at Spectrum Cycles and asked him to build me a titanium frame I had no idea what to expect.
I wanted to go to the famed red barn to visit Spectrum, ride with Tom, get measured, absorb the atmosphere, but traveling across the country just wasn't in the cards, so I sent Tom my measurements and dimensions of one of my frames and, after several conversations and e-mails, Tom went about designing the frame. What resulted was a frame with a fork with greater offset, shorter trail, longer front-center, shallower head tube, longer top tube, shorter chain stays, minimally greater bb drop, and instructions to use a 12cm rather 11cm stem. Except for the stem, all these seemed to be miniscule adjustments.
While we were discussing the design, Tom told me there was a delay at Merlin (Tom designs and Merlin builds ti Spectrums) because Merlin was out of 1-inch chain stays. That was OK with me and I asked for 7/8-inch stays to build some flexibility into the frame in hope they will make it "plane." I am sure there will be dissertations written on bicycle planing some day, but "goonster" on Serotta forum provides what I think is the best lay definition of the term: "It is the stiffness sweet spot, when a rider experiences the nirvana of a bike that feels just right, i.e. not too stiff and not too flexy, especially when climbing. Nobody is claiming that the frame somehow returns energy in a magical way, but some have reported that a bike with just the right amount of flex sometimes lets them use a slightly taller gear up rollers." Tom thought I may be onto something with smaller stays and the only time where he thought 1-inch stays are better would be in a sprint. As well as I sprint, this would not be an issue, so we proceeded full steam ahead with 7/8-inch stays.
I'd placed the order in early May and Tom thought the frame would be ready in time for Mt. Tam Double in early August. It turned out I'm not as good at waiting as I used to be. I called and e-mailed Tom a number of times asking for updates. He handled my badgering patiently and with good humor. There were delays at Merlin, so I called Merlin several times. Two months of teeth-gnashing until the frame arrived in early October. It was so well worth the wait.
I don't know if it's the 7/8-inch stays, titanium, or Spectrum voodoo, but I do think the bike planes. And even if it's not planing, whatever it's called, I love what it's done to my riding. After several years on compact cranks, I fitted a crank with 39x53 rings and a 12-27 cassette, fully expecting to spend more time on the left side of the cassette than on bikes with a 34x50, 11-28 set up. Surprisingly, I'm not. I am using 39x21 on the hills I climbed in 34x21 two weeks ago, and my legs and lungs are fine with that. On flats, the bike requires no undue attention to keep a straight line and taking hands off the bars produces no noticeable effect on handling. The best part is descending -- climbing in a bigger gear is awesome of course, but it requires work, while descending is pure, effortless joy. The bike feels very light in my hands entering a turn and does not feel like I need to push it into a turn. And once I pick a line, the bike just stays there. If I want to change the line -- piece of cake: very light and confidence-inspiring. So confidence-inspiring that I've attempted several unsafe passing maneuvers of cyclists and vehicles that I wouldn't have tried on another bike. Remarkably, the Spectrum is both exceptionally responsive and stable. I've never ridden a bike that handles like this.
When I came home from my first ride, I exclaimed to my wife, "I'm done!" "You're done?" she asked dubiously. "I'm done!" I repeated. We both knew this meant no more new bikes. A big deal for a guy with 7 road bikes in his garage and another at his father-in-law's. I've told two friends about this conversation and each bet me $50 that I'd get a new bike within two years (said one) or five years (the other). Well, maybe one more... a steel Spectrum, but not for a while.
I think I've reached Nirvana.
I wanted to go to the famed red barn to visit Spectrum, ride with Tom, get measured, absorb the atmosphere, but traveling across the country just wasn't in the cards, so I sent Tom my measurements and dimensions of one of my frames and, after several conversations and e-mails, Tom went about designing the frame. What resulted was a frame with a fork with greater offset, shorter trail, longer front-center, shallower head tube, longer top tube, shorter chain stays, minimally greater bb drop, and instructions to use a 12cm rather 11cm stem. Except for the stem, all these seemed to be miniscule adjustments.
While we were discussing the design, Tom told me there was a delay at Merlin (Tom designs and Merlin builds ti Spectrums) because Merlin was out of 1-inch chain stays. That was OK with me and I asked for 7/8-inch stays to build some flexibility into the frame in hope they will make it "plane." I am sure there will be dissertations written on bicycle planing some day, but "goonster" on Serotta forum provides what I think is the best lay definition of the term: "It is the stiffness sweet spot, when a rider experiences the nirvana of a bike that feels just right, i.e. not too stiff and not too flexy, especially when climbing. Nobody is claiming that the frame somehow returns energy in a magical way, but some have reported that a bike with just the right amount of flex sometimes lets them use a slightly taller gear up rollers." Tom thought I may be onto something with smaller stays and the only time where he thought 1-inch stays are better would be in a sprint. As well as I sprint, this would not be an issue, so we proceeded full steam ahead with 7/8-inch stays.
I'd placed the order in early May and Tom thought the frame would be ready in time for Mt. Tam Double in early August. It turned out I'm not as good at waiting as I used to be. I called and e-mailed Tom a number of times asking for updates. He handled my badgering patiently and with good humor. There were delays at Merlin, so I called Merlin several times. Two months of teeth-gnashing until the frame arrived in early October. It was so well worth the wait.
I don't know if it's the 7/8-inch stays, titanium, or Spectrum voodoo, but I do think the bike planes. And even if it's not planing, whatever it's called, I love what it's done to my riding. After several years on compact cranks, I fitted a crank with 39x53 rings and a 12-27 cassette, fully expecting to spend more time on the left side of the cassette than on bikes with a 34x50, 11-28 set up. Surprisingly, I'm not. I am using 39x21 on the hills I climbed in 34x21 two weeks ago, and my legs and lungs are fine with that. On flats, the bike requires no undue attention to keep a straight line and taking hands off the bars produces no noticeable effect on handling. The best part is descending -- climbing in a bigger gear is awesome of course, but it requires work, while descending is pure, effortless joy. The bike feels very light in my hands entering a turn and does not feel like I need to push it into a turn. And once I pick a line, the bike just stays there. If I want to change the line -- piece of cake: very light and confidence-inspiring. So confidence-inspiring that I've attempted several unsafe passing maneuvers of cyclists and vehicles that I wouldn't have tried on another bike. Remarkably, the Spectrum is both exceptionally responsive and stable. I've never ridden a bike that handles like this.
When I came home from my first ride, I exclaimed to my wife, "I'm done!" "You're done?" she asked dubiously. "I'm done!" I repeated. We both knew this meant no more new bikes. A big deal for a guy with 7 road bikes in his garage and another at his father-in-law's. I've told two friends about this conversation and each bet me $50 that I'd get a new bike within two years (said one) or five years (the other). Well, maybe one more... a steel Spectrum, but not for a while.
I think I've reached Nirvana.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Leipheimer Gran Fondo
Levi Leipheimer's Gran Fondo was October 2, 2009. I signed up for the full Gran Fondo -- 103 hilly miles, including the well-known King Ridge and Coleman Valley climbs, along with nasty surprises of Hauser Bridge and Seaview Roads in between those two, provided additional significant challenges.
I arrived at Finley Aquatic Center, the start/finish of the ride, at a ridiculous hour of 5:45 because I feared a crush of 8,000 descending on check-in desks. There were no lines when I arrived, but then I had too much time to kill before the 8:00 departure. As I breakfasted in my car at 4:30, I was good and hungry by 7:00. A muffin and a cup of coffee and, after additional 50 minutes of standing around waiting for the ride to start with my friend Jeff and, we began inching toward the start line.
We crossed the line at 8:22 and turned out of the parking lot, whereupon Jeff rocketed ahead. Doubts quickly erased, I jumped on his wheel. So much for the warm-up, we were traveling at 25-27 mph. Police blocked all intersections, and we blew past everyone in the fast lane of the 4-lane road. Several people tried to draft us, but realized that this was no ordinary century paceline and wisely dropped off. This continued for good 10 minutes when we caught up with my weekend ride group, when we slowed down a wee bit and rode with them. Jeff drifted forward and I lost sight of him, assuming he continued to tear up the course. I rode and chatted with my Oakland/Berkeley gang.
Going through Graton and Occidental, things got faster and more exciting for a while. I discovered that Santa Rosa water with which I filled my bottles at Finley Center, has a brown hue and its taste also has a brown hue. This didn't make me want to drink so much. I made sure to gel up and, as I'd been sitting on wheels most of the ride so far, felt reasonably fresh and confident. The group pulled up for refuelling at the first rest stop, but I decided to continue. One of the faster guys with us continued on also and we traded pulls through Guernville to Austin Creek Road. On Austin Creek we caught up with a 40-rider group and melded into it. We'd been on the road for about 35 miles. Average speed was over 21 mph. Maybe not too smart.
In another three miles, we hit Cazadero and rest stop no. 2, which I also skipped. Just a few yards past the rest stop we came to a fork: Ft. Ross Road and King Ridge Rd. -- pick your poison. Levi picked King Ridge for us. King Ridge climbs gently first and dips here and there, then gets serious and kicks you in the quads with 8%+ grades with steeper pitches reaching low teens. Mercifully, it was still early in the morning and fairly cool. My big gear training, which taught me pedal circles the way nothing else ever had, proved very useful here. I started feeling twinges of cramps, but I concentrated on pedaling circles, using as many muscle groups as possible, trying to prevent overtaxing any one muscle, which would lead to real cramping. This worked pretty well. I made it up the hill at a slower pace than many, faster than a few.
Thus, I came to the Tin Barn rest stop around mile 37. I stopped to fill bottles and gel flask. There was no gel, endurolytes, or Gatorade (I like it diluted). Discovered that First Endurance drinks were remarkably chalky, so I filled a bottle with diluted FE orange drink, another with water and set off after grabbing a few pieces of fruit. Dropped down Hauser Bridge Rd. and started climbing again. Hauser Bridge climb seemed as steep as King Ridge, but mostly shaded and, therefore, was more pleasant. While I'd ridden King Ridge and had faint and unpleasant memories of the climb, this was my first time on Hauser. I'll carry vivid, unpleasant memories of Hauser with me from now on.
The climb went on for 4-5 miles. The occasionally dipped and twisted for a hundred yards here and there, leading me to believe naively that the climb was over, but it was never over. It just kept on going up again, steeply, crampily, until we finally reached the crest of Coastal Ridge on Seaview Rd.
This was familiar territory. Terrible Two also crests at Seaview at Ft. Ross Rd. and there were TT road marks on the pavement. We followed the TT route for a couple of miles, but where TT drops eastward toward Cazadero, we continued along the ridge toward the plunge that is Meyers Grade. Imagine the very top of Mt. Diablo climb, only extend it to over a mile and you'll have Meyers. I was very glad we descended rather than climbed Meyers.
Meyers spilled the riders onto Highway 1, and south I went in a raging tailwind. After cresting a few rollers, fearing more cramping, I freewheeled flat parts of 1 (it was that tail-windy) to Jenner rest stop. I stood and straddled my bike for a minute, fearing further cramping if I tried to bring a leg over the bike, when I saw Jeff. "Jeff!" I said. "Vlad!" he said. We shared ride tales -- he flatted about 10 miles into the ride, saw me ride past, and spent ~15 minutes repairing the flat. He spent the next 60 miles chasing me, skipping rest stops, and now was cramping too. We dismounted gingerly but painlessly, ate, drank, caffeinated and set off.
Jeff on the verge of cramping is much faster than Vlad on the verge of cramping. The rest stop did me good, however, and I was able to ride on Jeff's wheel, taking occasional, weak pulls. In just 5 quick miles we were at the foot of Coleman Valley.
I did Coleman Valley only two months earlier at Mt. Tam Double and was mentally prepared. Oddly, I felt better climbing it after 130 miles two months earlier than at 73 miles at Gran Fondo. The m.o. was to take it easy until the climb got really steep, then to plod purposefully through that steep quarter mile. At the foot of the climb, caffeine got to Jeff, and he rode ahead, trash talking in French and Italian-accented English to the riders he passed. It would have been funny had it come at a less painful part of the ride, but the targets of Jeff's barbs took it in good humor, though I would have been tempted to whack him with a pump or squirt him with chalky energy drink had he directed them at me.
We crested and rolled up and down through Coleman Valley to Occidental, climbed to Graton, and pacelined with Fighting Bobas to outskirts of Santa Rosa, where Jeff flatted again. We repaired his flat and set off again, coming to an unpaved 2.5-mile fire road strewn with gravel at mile 100.
WTF Levi? Scores of cyclists of wildly varying bike handling skills on a narrow dirt road along with pedestrian and bicycle traffic of non-Fondoistas. Dust and gravel flying... Not very safe... There was a paved street back to Finley somewhere, no? We emerged from the fire road a quarter mile from Finley Center and that was that.
A few words about ride organization. Start was pretty lame. We crossed the start line 22 minutes after the official start time and there were thousands of people behind us. Road signage was amazing. There were large blue and white signs on lamp posts and trees directing turns, advising of upcoming course changes, warning of upcoming steep climbs and descents, etc. Major and many minor intersections had police and CHP officers holding up traffic for cyclists throughout the day. Volunteers were excellent. Food was normal century fare. Energy food was meh.
I would ride those roads again, but would shorten to the loop to about 75 miles, starting and ending in Occidental. I probably would not ride this Gran Fondo again, especially since the cost of the ride has gone up to $130.
.
I arrived at Finley Aquatic Center, the start/finish of the ride, at a ridiculous hour of 5:45 because I feared a crush of 8,000 descending on check-in desks. There were no lines when I arrived, but then I had too much time to kill before the 8:00 departure. As I breakfasted in my car at 4:30, I was good and hungry by 7:00. A muffin and a cup of coffee and, after additional 50 minutes of standing around waiting for the ride to start with my friend Jeff and, we began inching toward the start line.
We crossed the line at 8:22 and turned out of the parking lot, whereupon Jeff rocketed ahead. Doubts quickly erased, I jumped on his wheel. So much for the warm-up, we were traveling at 25-27 mph. Police blocked all intersections, and we blew past everyone in the fast lane of the 4-lane road. Several people tried to draft us, but realized that this was no ordinary century paceline and wisely dropped off. This continued for good 10 minutes when we caught up with my weekend ride group, when we slowed down a wee bit and rode with them. Jeff drifted forward and I lost sight of him, assuming he continued to tear up the course. I rode and chatted with my Oakland/Berkeley gang.
Going through Graton and Occidental, things got faster and more exciting for a while. I discovered that Santa Rosa water with which I filled my bottles at Finley Center, has a brown hue and its taste also has a brown hue. This didn't make me want to drink so much. I made sure to gel up and, as I'd been sitting on wheels most of the ride so far, felt reasonably fresh and confident. The group pulled up for refuelling at the first rest stop, but I decided to continue. One of the faster guys with us continued on also and we traded pulls through Guernville to Austin Creek Road. On Austin Creek we caught up with a 40-rider group and melded into it. We'd been on the road for about 35 miles. Average speed was over 21 mph. Maybe not too smart.
In another three miles, we hit Cazadero and rest stop no. 2, which I also skipped. Just a few yards past the rest stop we came to a fork: Ft. Ross Road and King Ridge Rd. -- pick your poison. Levi picked King Ridge for us. King Ridge climbs gently first and dips here and there, then gets serious and kicks you in the quads with 8%+ grades with steeper pitches reaching low teens. Mercifully, it was still early in the morning and fairly cool. My big gear training, which taught me pedal circles the way nothing else ever had, proved very useful here. I started feeling twinges of cramps, but I concentrated on pedaling circles, using as many muscle groups as possible, trying to prevent overtaxing any one muscle, which would lead to real cramping. This worked pretty well. I made it up the hill at a slower pace than many, faster than a few.
Thus, I came to the Tin Barn rest stop around mile 37. I stopped to fill bottles and gel flask. There was no gel, endurolytes, or Gatorade (I like it diluted). Discovered that First Endurance drinks were remarkably chalky, so I filled a bottle with diluted FE orange drink, another with water and set off after grabbing a few pieces of fruit. Dropped down Hauser Bridge Rd. and started climbing again. Hauser Bridge climb seemed as steep as King Ridge, but mostly shaded and, therefore, was more pleasant. While I'd ridden King Ridge and had faint and unpleasant memories of the climb, this was my first time on Hauser. I'll carry vivid, unpleasant memories of Hauser with me from now on.
The climb went on for 4-5 miles. The occasionally dipped and twisted for a hundred yards here and there, leading me to believe naively that the climb was over, but it was never over. It just kept on going up again, steeply, crampily, until we finally reached the crest of Coastal Ridge on Seaview Rd.
This was familiar territory. Terrible Two also crests at Seaview at Ft. Ross Rd. and there were TT road marks on the pavement. We followed the TT route for a couple of miles, but where TT drops eastward toward Cazadero, we continued along the ridge toward the plunge that is Meyers Grade. Imagine the very top of Mt. Diablo climb, only extend it to over a mile and you'll have Meyers. I was very glad we descended rather than climbed Meyers.
Meyers spilled the riders onto Highway 1, and south I went in a raging tailwind. After cresting a few rollers, fearing more cramping, I freewheeled flat parts of 1 (it was that tail-windy) to Jenner rest stop. I stood and straddled my bike for a minute, fearing further cramping if I tried to bring a leg over the bike, when I saw Jeff. "Jeff!" I said. "Vlad!" he said. We shared ride tales -- he flatted about 10 miles into the ride, saw me ride past, and spent ~15 minutes repairing the flat. He spent the next 60 miles chasing me, skipping rest stops, and now was cramping too. We dismounted gingerly but painlessly, ate, drank, caffeinated and set off.
Jeff on the verge of cramping is much faster than Vlad on the verge of cramping. The rest stop did me good, however, and I was able to ride on Jeff's wheel, taking occasional, weak pulls. In just 5 quick miles we were at the foot of Coleman Valley.
I did Coleman Valley only two months earlier at Mt. Tam Double and was mentally prepared. Oddly, I felt better climbing it after 130 miles two months earlier than at 73 miles at Gran Fondo. The m.o. was to take it easy until the climb got really steep, then to plod purposefully through that steep quarter mile. At the foot of the climb, caffeine got to Jeff, and he rode ahead, trash talking in French and Italian-accented English to the riders he passed. It would have been funny had it come at a less painful part of the ride, but the targets of Jeff's barbs took it in good humor, though I would have been tempted to whack him with a pump or squirt him with chalky energy drink had he directed them at me.
We crested and rolled up and down through Coleman Valley to Occidental, climbed to Graton, and pacelined with Fighting Bobas to outskirts of Santa Rosa, where Jeff flatted again. We repaired his flat and set off again, coming to an unpaved 2.5-mile fire road strewn with gravel at mile 100.
WTF Levi? Scores of cyclists of wildly varying bike handling skills on a narrow dirt road along with pedestrian and bicycle traffic of non-Fondoistas. Dust and gravel flying... Not very safe... There was a paved street back to Finley somewhere, no? We emerged from the fire road a quarter mile from Finley Center and that was that.
A few words about ride organization. Start was pretty lame. We crossed the start line 22 minutes after the official start time and there were thousands of people behind us. Road signage was amazing. There were large blue and white signs on lamp posts and trees directing turns, advising of upcoming course changes, warning of upcoming steep climbs and descents, etc. Major and many minor intersections had police and CHP officers holding up traffic for cyclists throughout the day. Volunteers were excellent. Food was normal century fare. Energy food was meh.
I would ride those roads again, but would shorten to the loop to about 75 miles, starting and ending in Occidental. I probably would not ride this Gran Fondo again, especially since the cost of the ride has gone up to $130.
.
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