With Solvang Spring Double looming on March 27, March 13 was the day for a long training ride. I had until 1:00 p.m. (seven hours) to ride and would have David's company for 2.5 of them. Unfortunately, we moved the clocks on March 13, so my body thought we started at 5:00 instead of 6:00. Worse still, we wouldn't see daylight until 7:00. At the start, temperatures were in high 30s with predicted highs for the day in high 60s-low 70s. How the heck, do you dress for rides like that? Many layers and deep-pocketed long-sleeve jersey to hold the shed garments would be the answer.
We met at 6:00 in North Berkeley, rode up and over Berkeley ridge to San Pablo Dam Road, where we promptly froze, especially David, who dressed for high 60s. Having dressed for mid-40s, I didn't feel as bad. I'd been listening obsessively to Leonard Cohen lately, so I started talking to David about it. David was unfamiliar with LC, so I told him what I knew. The conversation began a musical loop of Cohen's Everybody Knows in my brain. The song would remain there for the entire ride. Its rhythm worked well with my cadence and, happily, over and over again, I sang the two of its verses that I knew. We rode the north loop of Grizzly Peak Century: Pinole, Hercules, Rodeo, Crockett, and on to Martinez over McEwen Road. In Martinez, David turned right on Castro Ranch Rd. toward Pig Farm and I turned left to ride toward Lafayette. Now, Everybody Knows that I rode up and over Reliez Valley Rd., where my legs began to feel the ride for the first time (McEwen doesn't count because you always feel it), down Pleasant Valley Road and left on Olympic to the former antique gas pump service station for rest/undress stop no. 1, 40 miles into the ride. Bought Gatorade, peeled off a few items of clothing, and back on the road past Rossmoor to Walnut Creek.
The plan was to ride to Sunol then to take Palomares north toward Castro Valley, where I would meet my family at a party at 1:00. I don't know how far exactly it is from Walnut Creek to Sunol, but the road parallels Interstate 680 through almost completely flat valley and, today, as on most days, into a headwind. In Dublin, about half-way to Sunol, I spied a pair of cyclists perhaps half a mile ahead and began to chase, but ended up stuck at a very long traffic light and lost sight of them. After the light changed at last, I began chasing harder, telling myself I'd catch them in 5-10 minutes. I passed individual cyclists along the way, but didn't see the pair. Finally, about two miles north of Sunol I saw them and soon caught them. I sidled behind them for a rest -- I had 70 miles of riding and 12 miles of chasing in my legs. They were fine with me back there and soon we were talking about Canadian National Anthem for some reason. The discussion culminated with an off-tune rendition of Oh, Canada. I surprised all of us by knowing about 60% of the lyrics. Apropos, I suppose, with Leonard Cohen being Canadian, as Everybody Knows.
I stopped in Sunol for rest/undress stop no. 2 to take on fuel and gulp a few Endurolyte caps, while my companions turned around and rode north. I rode west on Niles Canyon Road into a headwind, again, then turned north onto Palomares. Everybody Knows that on Palomares, birds were going crazy, the creek was raging, my legs felt OK, but I had little to no energy to turn them. I rode at plod+ speed, going a bit harder as the grade relented.
Everybody Knows, I love going down Palomares. The five miles from the top to Castro Valley begin with almost a dead straight 8% descent for nearly a mile, followed by 4 miles of 1-2% descent. So you take it easy and go fast or hammer and go really fast. It's nice to see hard effort rewarded with high speed, which happens when one is fresh. I was feeling somewhere between stale and wilted, but still put out whatever effort I could muster and, as I arrived at the north end of Palomares, took stock: 11:45 a.m., 85 miles into the ride, and 10 minutes from my destination in Castro Valley. Not far enough and too early. Instead of turning left and going to the party I turned right to climb Dublin Grade. WTF, I said nearly out loud, as I faced a headwind. I had a head wind going west on Palomares and now a headwind going east on Dublin Grade. Where's justice?! I rode up the two miles of this dead straight 3-4% hill as fast and hard as my legs allowed, descended into Dublin and turned north to go to San Ramon, where I would take Norris Canyon Road back to Castro Valley.
Extremely disappointed I was to discover a ~20-mile an hour headwind in Dublin. It was as if the headwinds followed me around most of the day. Everybody Knows that this was a serious headwind, the kind that blows strong enough to discourage one into slowing down to a climbing pace even when riding on dead flat roads. Tempted to concede and sit up, I resisted and got as low as I could to hide from the wind and rode hard. This worked. I was able to maintain 16-18 mph until the turn toward Norris Canyon.
Riding Norris, I discovered that I was nearly poopless, worse yet, with a light tailwind blowing I was getting no wind chill in my face, I was warmer than comfortable. On Norris westbound one faces a short but steep climb just past Norris Canyon Estates (puke). Armed with rubbery legs ("armed with legs?"), I needed something to keep me going so I broke into a silent rendition of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, interrupting the Everybody Knows loop. I could focus on something other than steepness of the road -- keeping track of my number of bottles on the wall. It took 24 bottles to get to the top of the climb, surprisingly many considering the hill's meager length, but not so surprising considering its grade and my fried state. A cool (temperature), straight, long, and fast descent to the intersection with Crow Canyon, where I made a left turn into a wind-aided (Yay!) three-mile ride to Castro Valley, then through three miles of suburban ugliness to my destination.
The numbers: 110 miles; 7 hours; 3 songs.
.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Counting Belgian Points
My riding group informally/jokingly awards Belgian Points for riding in bad weather. Forecast for this morning was 80% chance of rain at 6:00 a.m., so chances of a scoring ride were promising. Last night I was on the fence about riding in the rain. Then something set me off and I got psyched for a rainy ride. I went to the garage and got out my rain bike, a 1975 Mondia, purchased recently and outfitted with a mishmash of new and old parts and topped off with full Honjo fenders (a Brooks mud flap on the front fender) -- very classy looking if not quite perfectly fitting yet (the fit remains a work in progress).
I had faint hopes for a 4-hour ride from 4:00-8:00 a.m., but a four-hour ride in the rain didn't appeal. Riding partners promised to show up if no rain, but with the forecast we had, I knew that I was probably looking at a solo ride.
Sure enough, Todd (at 5:25) and Floyd (at 5:42) e-mailed that they won't be joining me, but by then I was already on the road. I was up at 4:00, but five hours was not enough sleep, so I reset the alarm to 5:15 and went back to sleep, unsure that I'd get up then or at any other time early enough for a pre-work ride. My daughter helped. She got up at 5:10 and crawled into our bed, whereupon my wife asked groggily/grumpily: "Are you getting up or not?" I got out of bed, taking that as a hint, also feeling somewhat resentful for being kicked out of bed as well as grateful that someone is looking out for my training. I got dressed for the rain and decided not to eat since I would be riding slowly and for no more than a couple of hours. Weather cooperated, it was raining already when I left the house at 5:25.
This was my first ride on the rain bike. I had to get used to everything. Old fashioned skinny brake levers way out there at the front of the bars; friction bar-end shifters, with attendant front derailleur rub and rear derailleur rub, which I fixed with small adjustments of the levers; deeper drop bars than I'm used to; and center-pull brakes. Rain quickly went from light to medium. That didn't matter much as I climbed Tunnel/Skyline. The rain was warm (high 40s) and I was comfortable in my rain jacket, booties, cap under the helmet, and fleecy tights. As I crested, I wasn't quite so comfortable. Water was getting through my tights and descending felt chilly on my upper legs (try knee warmers under tights in heavy rain?). But it wasn't too bad. The rain intensified again, as the dawn began breaking through the heavy clouds, and visibility improved a bit. It became easier to see runners and walkers on the road. There were no cyclists. I felt morally superior for riding in bad weather, while fair-weather riders stayed in bed.
Aesthetically, this ride had little going for it. The fog and the rain reduced visibility significantly, so the usual views of Oakland, the Bay, and San Francisco just weren't there. But it was a meditative ride: sounds of rain falling on the road, on the puddles, on the bill of my cap; birds waking with song and tree frogs, too; visions of cars crawling out their garage holes...
I rode out Skyline and turned around at Keller. Descending Joaquin Miller at nearly 40 mph into heavy rain, my cheeks and lips were smacked and bruised by giant raindrops. By the time I got home I'd been out in the rain for almost two hours. Arrived just as my wife was returning from walking the dog. She apologized for kicking me out of bed and kissed my bruised lips, but I said, "Thank you."
As for the bike, with a nod to My Fair Lady, I have one thing to say: "My bike planes in the rain..."
.
I had faint hopes for a 4-hour ride from 4:00-8:00 a.m., but a four-hour ride in the rain didn't appeal. Riding partners promised to show up if no rain, but with the forecast we had, I knew that I was probably looking at a solo ride.
Sure enough, Todd (at 5:25) and Floyd (at 5:42) e-mailed that they won't be joining me, but by then I was already on the road. I was up at 4:00, but five hours was not enough sleep, so I reset the alarm to 5:15 and went back to sleep, unsure that I'd get up then or at any other time early enough for a pre-work ride. My daughter helped. She got up at 5:10 and crawled into our bed, whereupon my wife asked groggily/grumpily: "Are you getting up or not?" I got out of bed, taking that as a hint, also feeling somewhat resentful for being kicked out of bed as well as grateful that someone is looking out for my training. I got dressed for the rain and decided not to eat since I would be riding slowly and for no more than a couple of hours. Weather cooperated, it was raining already when I left the house at 5:25.
This was my first ride on the rain bike. I had to get used to everything. Old fashioned skinny brake levers way out there at the front of the bars; friction bar-end shifters, with attendant front derailleur rub and rear derailleur rub, which I fixed with small adjustments of the levers; deeper drop bars than I'm used to; and center-pull brakes. Rain quickly went from light to medium. That didn't matter much as I climbed Tunnel/Skyline. The rain was warm (high 40s) and I was comfortable in my rain jacket, booties, cap under the helmet, and fleecy tights. As I crested, I wasn't quite so comfortable. Water was getting through my tights and descending felt chilly on my upper legs (try knee warmers under tights in heavy rain?). But it wasn't too bad. The rain intensified again, as the dawn began breaking through the heavy clouds, and visibility improved a bit. It became easier to see runners and walkers on the road. There were no cyclists. I felt morally superior for riding in bad weather, while fair-weather riders stayed in bed.
Aesthetically, this ride had little going for it. The fog and the rain reduced visibility significantly, so the usual views of Oakland, the Bay, and San Francisco just weren't there. But it was a meditative ride: sounds of rain falling on the road, on the puddles, on the bill of my cap; birds waking with song and tree frogs, too; visions of cars crawling out their garage holes...
I rode out Skyline and turned around at Keller. Descending Joaquin Miller at nearly 40 mph into heavy rain, my cheeks and lips were smacked and bruised by giant raindrops. By the time I got home I'd been out in the rain for almost two hours. Arrived just as my wife was returning from walking the dog. She apologized for kicking me out of bed and kissed my bruised lips, but I said, "Thank you."
As for the bike, with a nod to My Fair Lady, I have one thing to say: "My bike planes in the rain..."
.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Hamma' Time!
On February 20 it was Fruit Stand. 60+ miles counterclockwise. Hills first (Tunnel, Redwood); then flats from Castro Valley to San Ramon via Crow Canyon and up through Walnut Creek to Moraga; then home over Pinehurst, with a detour up Manzanita.
There were four of us in various levels of fitness. Feeling up for a long and strong effort, I did nearly all of the pulling on Crow Canyon, about half on the flats to Walnut Creek, and led up the climb from Lafayette to Rheem Valley. In San Ramon, David asked me, "what time is it?" I said in my best MC Hammer voice, "what taam's it?!" and Brian and I both responded, "it's Hamma' Time!" A hammerfest to Walnut Creek ensued. But it was a good hammerfest. It was hard, but not blood-tasting, lung-burning, tunnel-vision, legs-falling-off, near-blackout hard.
.
There were four of us in various levels of fitness. Feeling up for a long and strong effort, I did nearly all of the pulling on Crow Canyon, about half on the flats to Walnut Creek, and led up the climb from Lafayette to Rheem Valley. In San Ramon, David asked me, "what time is it?" I said in my best MC Hammer voice, "what taam's it?!" and Brian and I both responded, "it's Hamma' Time!" A hammerfest to Walnut Creek ensued. But it was a good hammerfest. It was hard, but not blood-tasting, lung-burning, tunnel-vision, legs-falling-off, near-blackout hard.
.
Monday, February 8, 2010
More Darkness
These are the dark days. Minimal natural light during my riding time. Fortunately, bicycle lighting technology has made tremendous strides, so that one can ride comfortable at high speeds even on twisty descents. So, I embarked on my first long ride of 2010 on February 6 at 4:25 a.m. (not a typo). Had to be home by 9:45 and planned to ride 80+ miles to Sunol and back, thus the early departure. I had a riding companion in David Newman, otherwise no way do I get out alone for an 80-miler at that hour.
While I'm used to riding certain roads in the dark (Spruce, Grizzly, Tunnel, Skyline), others I only know from riding them in daylight, so riding through Orinda, Lafayette, Walnut Creek, Danville and San Ramon was a completely new experience. I know the roads, I knew where we were, yet it all looked very different in the dark and in the intermittent rain. We finally had enough daylight by the time we reached Dublin and I felt comfortable turning off my light. A few words about my light: I used Exposure MaxxD, fully charged. I ran it on medium for the first 50 minutes, then on high for about 30. After 30 minutes on high the indicator light changed from green to red -- low battery warning -- so I switched back to medium and the indicator went back to green. It stayed green for about 30 minutes, then went red. I switched to low for another 30 minutes and by then there was enough daylight to turn off the light. Here's my beef: the manufacturer claims 3 hours at HIGH setting and I wouldn't have gotten 3 hours from the combination of high and medium. Piece of crap! Back to Majicshine I go!
David and I rode medium-hard to Sunol, where we found the general store and the cafe which we planned to use for re-hydration and refuelling closed, so we just used the portable toilets and got back on the road. More medium-hard riding on Niles Canyon Rd., right onto Palomares and up the hill we went, 4.3 miles of climbing. Palomares Creek was just raging with water. It was very cool to ride in the narrow canyon with the creek rushing loudly in the opposite direction. I'd been on the road for over three hours, had drunk just over two bottles, and having ridden medium-hard for about half of my time on the bike, was beginning to feel the ride in my legs. This was a nervous time, I wasn't sure I'd make it home by 9:45, so I had to ride hard, but not so hard that I'd cramp or blow up and end up getting home really late. And things weren't going to get any better with hydration, as we were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, as far as road services go. We made it up and down Palomares in decent shape, rode medium-harder to Castro Valley, crested Redwood Rd. on the outskirts of town and discovered that Castro Valley School District erected a fence around Proctor Elementary -- so, no access to the school's water fountains. I managed to plod up and down Redwood, then up Redwood again, down Joaquin Miller, and through Montclair, arriving home at 9:47. Close enough. Considering that I'd drunk 2.25 bottles instead of 4+ and eaten 6 servings of gel instead of 10, doing 87 miles with 5,000+ feet of climbing in 15.8 mph average speed, I'm pretty happy with my first long ride of the year.
.
While I'm used to riding certain roads in the dark (Spruce, Grizzly, Tunnel, Skyline), others I only know from riding them in daylight, so riding through Orinda, Lafayette, Walnut Creek, Danville and San Ramon was a completely new experience. I know the roads, I knew where we were, yet it all looked very different in the dark and in the intermittent rain. We finally had enough daylight by the time we reached Dublin and I felt comfortable turning off my light. A few words about my light: I used Exposure MaxxD, fully charged. I ran it on medium for the first 50 minutes, then on high for about 30. After 30 minutes on high the indicator light changed from green to red -- low battery warning -- so I switched back to medium and the indicator went back to green. It stayed green for about 30 minutes, then went red. I switched to low for another 30 minutes and by then there was enough daylight to turn off the light. Here's my beef: the manufacturer claims 3 hours at HIGH setting and I wouldn't have gotten 3 hours from the combination of high and medium. Piece of crap! Back to Majicshine I go!
David and I rode medium-hard to Sunol, where we found the general store and the cafe which we planned to use for re-hydration and refuelling closed, so we just used the portable toilets and got back on the road. More medium-hard riding on Niles Canyon Rd., right onto Palomares and up the hill we went, 4.3 miles of climbing. Palomares Creek was just raging with water. It was very cool to ride in the narrow canyon with the creek rushing loudly in the opposite direction. I'd been on the road for over three hours, had drunk just over two bottles, and having ridden medium-hard for about half of my time on the bike, was beginning to feel the ride in my legs. This was a nervous time, I wasn't sure I'd make it home by 9:45, so I had to ride hard, but not so hard that I'd cramp or blow up and end up getting home really late. And things weren't going to get any better with hydration, as we were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, as far as road services go. We made it up and down Palomares in decent shape, rode medium-harder to Castro Valley, crested Redwood Rd. on the outskirts of town and discovered that Castro Valley School District erected a fence around Proctor Elementary -- so, no access to the school's water fountains. I managed to plod up and down Redwood, then up Redwood again, down Joaquin Miller, and through Montclair, arriving home at 9:47. Close enough. Considering that I'd drunk 2.25 bottles instead of 4+ and eaten 6 servings of gel instead of 10, doing 87 miles with 5,000+ feet of climbing in 15.8 mph average speed, I'm pretty happy with my first long ride of the year.
.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Intervals in the Dark
Left at 5:30 this morning and 15 minutes into the ride decided to ride controlled hard tempo up every hill with heart rate in mid 160s to low 170s. Since there was next to no flats on the ride, I spent about 40 minutes doing these intervals in the pre-dawn darkness and recovering on descents. It being dark, I had my light on, which completely fritzed my heart monitor, so I went by RPE, occasionally turning off the light to check the heart rate -- when the light was off the HRM magically resumed functioning. (Additional benefits of a helmet-mounted light: (1) the lamp is too far from bar-mounted electronic gadgetry to cause interference; (2) since the light "follows" the eyes it is easy to read HRM and computer displays with no need to use gadget backlights.) Thus, I became very well acquainted with my bar-mounted light's on/off switch.
Thought I'd try to ride these intervals in low gears. I am not much of an uphill spinner, so this was a new challenge: reaching the desired exercise level and staying in it for 3-12 minutes, depending on the length of the hill, while riding a smallish gear. It worked pretty well after a while. When I felt like I was bogging down, I concentrated on spinning smooth circles and breathing, which got me over the tough parts. A hard ride this was.
.
Thought I'd try to ride these intervals in low gears. I am not much of an uphill spinner, so this was a new challenge: reaching the desired exercise level and staying in it for 3-12 minutes, depending on the length of the hill, while riding a smallish gear. It worked pretty well after a while. When I felt like I was bogging down, I concentrated on spinning smooth circles and breathing, which got me over the tough parts. A hard ride this was.
.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Santa Claus Wind
I rode for an hour this morning into a gale-force wind that was blowing from the same direction as summer Santa Ana wind, only this morning it blew at 40 degrees colder... Hence the name.
.
.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Blogworthy? I think so.
(Click on photo for detailed description of the climb)
I didn't make it. I was in 53x21 until the first steep ramp, then in 53x23 for a while. When it got seriously steep and stayed seriously steep I was groveling in the 53x27, barely turning the pedals. The infamous farm came into view and I thought, "if I just make it past the right turn at the edge of the farm it gets easier there and I just might make it..." I made it to the edge of the farm, made it through the right turn, looked up the road and it didn't look any easier. So, I unclipped for fear of falling over. Dumped the chain into the small ring, remounted in 39x27, and rode that gear the rest of the climb. And that last 150 yards was damn hard, even in the 39x27.
The next day, Brian and I drove to Fairfax, where we met Jeff and embarked on a "9"-shaped ride to Bolinas, down to Stinson, up Panoramic, down through Muir Woods, back up Highway 1 to Bolinas and over to Fairfax. 58 miles, about 7,000 feet of climbing, through redwood forests, eucalyptus groves, along the coast, over Alpine Dam... Beautiful and challenging. A fantastic ride.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)