Having successfully completed the Saguaro National Park 300K brevet on Saturday, I decided to maximize my riding for the month by doing a permanent as well. Originally, the plan was to do it on Sunday, but Dad's birthday was Saturday and we had the party on Sunday. Dad trumps riding sometimes.
I picked out Mike Sturgill's North Phoenix and Fountain Hills 200K as a good follow up ride to the 300K. It was listed as "flatish" and for the most part it was. This being my off-season, I didn't want to overdo it and my chest was hurting due to bruised ribs and boughts of coughing after the dust on the 300K. It turned out to be a great choice.
I met Mike at the community college/park and ride near the start. Mike is one of those guys that I admire and potentially say hi to at the beginning of a brevet. His plan is to do the Cascades without needing to turn his lights on. I, on the other hand, will likely be recharging mine each night. Perhaps in a few years, my thighs will achieve epic status, but not right now.
In any case, after a few last instructions, I set out. The first few miles were along the streets of North Phoenix and I couldn't make a light to save my life. I hadn't really ever ridden in the area, so this was actually a good thing. Sometimes in urban riding, I fixate so much on the road and traffic, that I never bother to actually look at the scenery. Traffic lights give me an opportunity to do just that. I finally came to a bike path through a really beautiful park just along the highway. By this time, it was around 8:00 and though the sun was up and the cars were moving, it was still really quite scenic with many cactus and a few flowers starting to emerge. I then made my way to the canals where, for about 10 miles, I was treated to an amazing array of birds. There were some parrotish looking birds with bright green feathers and purple acccents, some plover-style birds and some others that looked a little like a long legged woodpecker. Not something I expected.
I passed a big amusement park in the Arabian style that made me think of rides when I was a little kid. The canals in Phoenix make for great riding with tunnels under most of the streets. It had rained very hard 2 nights before and there were some lingering puddles to splash through which was also fun. I finally turned onto 51st street and began the trek to more rural areas. There were some very nice neighborhoods in the next few miles; Phoenix definitely favors stucco over brick. I pulled into the first control at about 9:15 (32 miles) and bought some water.
The next section, Lake Pleasent Road and New River Road, were the most rural part of the ride. For miles, I really didn't see much in the way of buildings, just green desert. Yes, the desert is currently green. Every few years, Arizona gets lots of water, probably the result of El Nino. This year is turning out to be quite the wet one and I expect that there will be many flowers in the coming month or two. I dawdled a bit on this part just because the sun was out and I really was enjoying the scenery. I pulled into the RoadRunner Cafe just after noon, bought a coke at the bar and took off quickly.
The next few miles were a bit hillier than the previous ones. I passed through the town of New River and wound around quite a bit before hitting 74 and cruising for about 10 miles. At this point, I entered back into Scottsdale and turned onto Dynamite Road and beginning the ascent of 9 mile hill (okay the 5 mile side of it). Being from Minnesota, I don't get to do sustained climbs of more than a mile or two very often. This one was maybe 5%, but went on for about 5 miles before the Shell Station (control #4). At the Shell Station, I pondered food options, by this time it was about 1:30. Another cyclist showed up whom I had seen ascending the hill came in and said hello. Seeing my indecision, he piped up, "hey, you should try these" and pointed to some refrigerated hot tamales. "Wash it down with some of this Cactus - it's a great pick up". I must have been really low on blood sugar, because I agreed that this was a good idea. So much for trying something new - I took one bite, realized it was a bad idea and went back for a heath bar instead. The Cactus stuff was okay, but I have to say that water is even better.
Shortly afterwards, I was climbing the final steps to the descent of 9 mile hill. There was a spectacular view of the Rio Verde valley with a snow capped mountain in the distance. It was about 75 degrees, perfect riding weather. I had fun on that descent and was sad to see it go as I turned onto Forest Road. The next 10 miles were uneventful as I wound my way through Scottsdale. I hit the final Control at about 3:30 and headed up Palisades hill. At this point, things got interesting. I turned onto Shea Blvd for a 2 mile descent, but rush hour had apparently started because traffic was pretty thick. It's one thing to scream down a hill at 35 mph, it's quite another to do it with a bunch of cars going 50. Needless to say, I was happy to turn off.
As I completed the last 10 miles, I was amazed at the traffic. At the time, I kept thinking it must be rush hour. Only later did I find out that a major accident on the 101 had detoured almost all the traffic off the freeway onto my route. Mayo Blvd, normally deserted, was packed with cars. I did enjoy riding around the remnants of the Phoenix Open. Had I been there the previous day, it would certainly have been difficult to get around the people. As it was, there were just cleanup crews and a few detours for cars remaining. The traffic on Union Hills was also heavy and I was happy to finally see the Circle K at the finish. A total of 10:20 with 1:45 non-moving (the traffic lights were at least half an hour). Not my fastest, but considering the circumstances, a fine ride.
I won't get back for Susan's 400K in March, but I have to say that I have a good feeling about the Tombstone 600K in April.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A fine day for a 300K - Saguaro National Park
February 27th, 2010 was the day of another fine brevet by Susan Plonsky. This was a really challenging brevet on several fronts. First, I got lost getting there. I don't usually get lost, it just happened somehow. I'm blaming the rental car or perhaps it's just what happens when you drive around at 4:30 am looking for people in tights. Second, more serious, I had a chest contusion before I ever started the ride (an unfortuate accident 4 days before as I flew over my handlebars on ice). I distinctly remember reading in the RUSA handbook that the single most important thing to bring to a brevet is an unfailing desire to finish the ride. This one set a personal record for me, not because the weather was, shall we say, unpredicatable or because it's the first one I started late, but because it's the first one I have ever done where I had to make a real effort to take every breath. I now have a new appreciation for the amount of work my rib cage does during the course of the ride.
I will say that starting late really was a bonus in this case. Had I been on time, I would have missed a real treat of a ride with Eagle Eye Alan. He and another guy were also running a little late and when we started at 6:15, he discovered that his Schmidt hub wire was broken. He and I went back to the start for emergency repairs with Susan that took another 15 minutes. I have to say, going back was one of my best decisions of the day. If I had gone on, I might have been able to keep up with the other guy (whose name I don't remember), but I had a great time riding with Alan. It's very seldom that you run into someone who is just about evenly matched with you so that riding together is a pleasure for 190 miles. We both took turns fighting the wind, I got all kinds of information about the terrain we were riding through that I wouldn't have known. Just a great experience. So if Alan reads this, thanks for the ride.
When we finally got going, our first treat was a gorgeous sunrise heading out of Casa Grande. I think it's the combination of the mountains, the giant cactus and the exapansiveness of the land that makes desert sunrises so vast and majestic. It is simply one of those moving experiences that sets the tone for the day, like a big capital O at the beginning of a sentence. The two of us cruised at around 18-20 miles per hour in a crisp 48-50 degrees. All worries about starting late just faded away. We continued east until finally turning to the south on Highway 79, it was at this point that things turned interesting. A sign ahead read Oracle Junction 36 miles. So starts a very long hill, essentally 36 miles long but at only a 2-3% grade. Though I had noted in in the elevation profile, I hadn't really thought much of it considering the fact that there was only about 4,200 feet of total elevation on the ride. Being from roller country, I'm not nearly so used to sustained climbing. We were also climbing into a mounting headwind. If I hadn't looked at the profile and had Alan to reassure me that yes, we were going up, I would have gotten pretty depressed on this section. The kicker was the optical illusions of the road. Even though we were climbing, the road actually looked either flat or descending. After about 9 miles, we caught up with 2 other riders, whom I remembered from the 200K in January. Alan told me that hitting this hill too hard was a common mistake responsible for many a DNF over the years; I resolved to cut back a little after the contorl coming up. At Tom Mix Monument (about 12 miles into the hill), we chatted briefly. The sky was cloudy by this time and it was warming up, so we shed some layers and got back on the bike as quickly as possible. The ride organizers had a nice setup with a bike stand for repairs, food and water all waiting for us.
The next 24 miles were long ones. It's not very often that the low point of a brevet comes so early in the ride. There has been quite a bit of rain and the desert is starting to green up (a rare occurrance). Alan and I traded stories and he did a fabulous pull for the last few miles. The wind continuted to pick up. Finally, we made it to Oracle Junction. A sigh of relief was audible and it was like the whole ride started over, we both picked up in spirits. After a not-so-fast-because-of-the-headwind descent into the second control, we stopped at Walgreens for snacks, water, and a stretch. This was also my first informational control. I had read about them in the RUSA handbook, but hadn't used on before. We were successful in naming the business on the corner of the street. We'd gone 75 miles.
We finally rolled in at about 9:15. I wound up showing Susan my GPS tracks to prove we were on course. The third randonnneur (who had gone ahead) also vouched for us being on the right roads. I never got a chance to really say thanks - I'm always a little fried at the end of a ride.
This ride was really a great experience. It isn't every day I get to ride with someone the whole time. Most brevets in Minnesota, I am the only female and I see everyone at the start and then catch possible glimpses during the course of the ride. I like riding alone, but there is a really nice aspect to riding with someone else as well. As usual, Susan put on a great brevet. I can't wait for the Tombstone 600K. Just 7 short weeks away and the desert will probably be blooming.
When we finally got going, our first treat was a gorgeous sunrise heading out of Casa Grande. I think it's the combination of the mountains, the giant cactus and the exapansiveness of the land that makes desert sunrises so vast and majestic. It is simply one of those moving experiences that sets the tone for the day, like a big capital O at the beginning of a sentence. The two of us cruised at around 18-20 miles per hour in a crisp 48-50 degrees. All worries about starting late just faded away. We continued east until finally turning to the south on Highway 79, it was at this point that things turned interesting. A sign ahead read Oracle Junction 36 miles. So starts a very long hill, essentally 36 miles long but at only a 2-3% grade. Though I had noted in in the elevation profile, I hadn't really thought much of it considering the fact that there was only about 4,200 feet of total elevation on the ride. Being from roller country, I'm not nearly so used to sustained climbing. We were also climbing into a mounting headwind. If I hadn't looked at the profile and had Alan to reassure me that yes, we were going up, I would have gotten pretty depressed on this section. The kicker was the optical illusions of the road. Even though we were climbing, the road actually looked either flat or descending. After about 9 miles, we caught up with 2 other riders, whom I remembered from the 200K in January. Alan told me that hitting this hill too hard was a common mistake responsible for many a DNF over the years; I resolved to cut back a little after the contorl coming up. At Tom Mix Monument (about 12 miles into the hill), we chatted briefly. The sky was cloudy by this time and it was warming up, so we shed some layers and got back on the bike as quickly as possible. The ride organizers had a nice setup with a bike stand for repairs, food and water all waiting for us.
The next 24 miles were long ones. It's not very often that the low point of a brevet comes so early in the ride. There has been quite a bit of rain and the desert is starting to green up (a rare occurrance). Alan and I traded stories and he did a fabulous pull for the last few miles. The wind continuted to pick up. Finally, we made it to Oracle Junction. A sigh of relief was audible and it was like the whole ride started over, we both picked up in spirits. After a not-so-fast-because-of-the-headwind descent into the second control, we stopped at Walgreens for snacks, water, and a stretch. This was also my first informational control. I had read about them in the RUSA handbook, but hadn't used on before. We were successful in naming the business on the corner of the street. We'd gone 75 miles.
Parts of the next few miles I recongized from the Mt Lemmon ride in November. The next 20 miles or so were windy, but had lots of rollers and a very fun downhill on Tangerine. We then crossed underneth I-10 and turned onto Silverbell. This was the worst of the wind for the day with a combination of a headwind and some not-so-happy pavement. We went up a short hill called Rattlesnake Pass and joked about the fact that photographers on rides always wait to take picture of cyclists after they have spent hours ascending a pass and, bluntly, look like hell. I had a flat just before Gates Pass; Alan graciously helped me change it. More joking about his Yin (bad wires) and my Yang (bad tires). Then we ascended Gates Pass which is about 2 miles of fairly steep climbing (not the worst, but probably has some short segments into the 8-10% range). At the top, Alan texted his wife and I took some pictures; the view was spectacular Then a screaming, twisting descent down to the last manned control in the wind.
The first thing I noted about the descent, was the view of the valley below. I knew we would be almost entirely downhill from this point on with a tailwind now. But the wind was also kicking up a massive amount of dust. You could see dust billowing down in the valley like plumes of whipped cream. We met Susan for snacks, bottle filling and some last words. Then off for the big finale.
Even though the weather was supposed to have an ascending chance of rain at this point, the sun came out for the first time in hours and we got a real treat of a tailwind/descent on Sandario. I took some more pictures as we easily spun at about 25 mph. It's impressive when you ride at 25-30 mph and still don't feel any wind. We turned briefly on Marana Road and discovered just how powerful the wind was; as a crosswind, it nearly blew me over. We stopped at the Circle K for a bit of water and I put on a dust mask; I have mild asthma and I remembered the plumes of dust that were likely all around us. That turned out to really be a good move for me. Coughing with a chest contusion is exceedingly painful.
We turned north again and saw a beautiful sunset near Picacho Peak. The wind started dying a bit but we still cruised at around 18 mph. We stopped at a Dairy Queen at around 6 pm to put on reflective gear, turn on lights and make a final pit stop. We also picked up another randonneur for the ride back.
The last 25 miles had a full moon and all the trappings of a great night ride. We were very careful on our directions, between local knowlege, my GPS and some careful cue sheet reading, we didn't get lost. At least a couple of others apparently did and missed Eloy. Alan and I slowed up a bit and the other randonneur went ahead once we turned on Eleven Mile Corner. We then needed to find the color of a ribbon on a sign (informational control) at 11 Mile and 287. I can't figure out how we missed it. I swear I looked at every sign about 4 times, but we could see lighting on the horizon (the storm was finally on its way) so we didn't dawdle. I tried to remember as many other landmarks as I could and figured I had the tracks in my GPS as well.
We finally rolled in at about 9:15. I wound up showing Susan my GPS tracks to prove we were on course. The third randonnneur (who had gone ahead) also vouched for us being on the right roads. I never got a chance to really say thanks - I'm always a little fried at the end of a ride.
This ride was really a great experience. It isn't every day I get to ride with someone the whole time. Most brevets in Minnesota, I am the only female and I see everyone at the start and then catch possible glimpses during the course of the ride. I like riding alone, but there is a really nice aspect to riding with someone else as well. As usual, Susan put on a great brevet. I can't wait for the Tombstone 600K. Just 7 short weeks away and the desert will probably be blooming.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Dealing with "the-body-part-that-must-not-be-named"
There is no issue more talked about in cycling than this one (and we all know what it is). I set two challenges to myself. The first is informative, to describe the various problems and strategies associated with this most tender of parts and the second is linguistic, to never use the same euphemism twice.
There are serveral categories of posterior agony that I have experienced over my long history. The first I had to deal with hits most cyclists every spring when one has not been on a bike for a number of months or when they extend saddle time well over what they are used to. It's that dreaded feeling that instead of riding, you must certainly have been instead locked in a room with 1000 tiny gnomes beating on your pelvis with cold-iron hammers: the spring-ache, the gluteal impaction, the oh-my-god-my-*@#-is -killing-me sensation. Despite that fact that you can have many issues that are more serious, this one will almost certainly keep you off your bike if you let it. This particular issue kept IronK off a bike for almost 2 years. The second is the dreaded saddle sore or even worse an outbreak of them that will bring back any memories you might have of your days with diaper rash.
Spring-ache, for me, is generally the result of either being out-of-shape (after the winter) or from doing a ride that is more than about 25% longer than I am used to. My first and, in my humble opinion, the best way to minimize the issue in the spring time is to not quit riding in the fall. This doesn't mean to hammer your brains out all winter. It just means that you either leverage not so bad weather and learn to ride in sub-par conditions like cold or rain for brief periods of time or you ride indoors. Even if it is once a week, your derriere will thank you for it when spring comes and you are dying to pedal off into the great blue yonder. Base training in the winter will also help the rest of your body. In particular, I have found that core strength is almost as close to silver bullet as you can find for a variety of problems. You abdominal muscles are the ones that stabilize you on the bike, if they are very strong, you ride faster and more comfortably on both ends. Stability ball exercises, push ups, and planks of all shapes are really worthwhile in the off-season. If I did nothing else all winter, I'd do them.
Saying that you solve the out-of-shape problem, the next fact is that when it comes to brass tacks, the points at which your body comes in contact with the bicycle are the most common places to have problems. The sweet cheeks are the contact point with perhaps the highest amount of continuous weight applied while riding. There are forces of friction to deal with as well as the fact that it's a tender spot; you can run around barefoot on rough ground easily, imagine using even fine-grained sand paper for TP and you get the picture.
For me, getting the right saddle and getting it fit correctly were two processes that took a long time, but fixed the probelm.
Finding a saddle for riding mega-miles is both time consuming and can be expensive. I had the same saddle that came with my bike until I started riding over 80 miles. Up until that point (about 5-6 hours of riding), I could put up with just about anything. I've heard it said that any mistakes in fitting or equipment in the first 50 miles won't really come back to haunt you until about 150. I must have bought at least 4 saddles before settling into one I really liked for rides over 250 miles. When I say "really liked" it doesn't mean that I like sitting on it for fun either. Basically, there are 3 kinds of saddles:
The second really imporant part of the saddle is its position. You must have the fit perfect and be willing to change it over the course of a ride. What works at the start when you are fresh may need some adjustment after hours in the heat. First,the saddle must be the correct height. If it is too high, you will rock on it and the friction will become a problem. If it is too low, you will have added considerably to the already large weight on your glutes and wreck havoc on your knees. When the saddle is a perfect height for me, I feel as though I am suspended over the bike with each pedal stroke taking a little pressure off each side. I have also found through experimentation that I prefer a level saddle at the start, but at the end of about 200 miles, tilting the saddle just a tad downwards helps me to avoid rubbing when I am tired and my core isn't holding me in place as well.
One of my favorite tricks for ensuring that my saddle is in the right position during a long ride is to ask the person riding behind me to critique. After all, they have a far better view of your tokus than you do and millimeters count in the game of position. Also, pay attention to the knees, they are an early warning that something is wrong with the saddle. Too low and the fronts of my knees hurt, too high and the backs of my knees hurt. I have seen no less that 3 riders, including myself, completely fall apart because the saddle was millimeters too low. In almost every case, it's been due to slippage during a brevet or other really long ride. Rain, in particular, is very good at loosening connections on the bike. So is fresh chip-seal.
There are serveral categories of posterior agony that I have experienced over my long history. The first I had to deal with hits most cyclists every spring when one has not been on a bike for a number of months or when they extend saddle time well over what they are used to. It's that dreaded feeling that instead of riding, you must certainly have been instead locked in a room with 1000 tiny gnomes beating on your pelvis with cold-iron hammers: the spring-ache, the gluteal impaction, the oh-my-god-my-*@#-is -killing-me sensation. Despite that fact that you can have many issues that are more serious, this one will almost certainly keep you off your bike if you let it. This particular issue kept IronK off a bike for almost 2 years. The second is the dreaded saddle sore or even worse an outbreak of them that will bring back any memories you might have of your days with diaper rash.
Spring-ache, for me, is generally the result of either being out-of-shape (after the winter) or from doing a ride that is more than about 25% longer than I am used to. My first and, in my humble opinion, the best way to minimize the issue in the spring time is to not quit riding in the fall. This doesn't mean to hammer your brains out all winter. It just means that you either leverage not so bad weather and learn to ride in sub-par conditions like cold or rain for brief periods of time or you ride indoors. Even if it is once a week, your derriere will thank you for it when spring comes and you are dying to pedal off into the great blue yonder. Base training in the winter will also help the rest of your body. In particular, I have found that core strength is almost as close to silver bullet as you can find for a variety of problems. You abdominal muscles are the ones that stabilize you on the bike, if they are very strong, you ride faster and more comfortably on both ends. Stability ball exercises, push ups, and planks of all shapes are really worthwhile in the off-season. If I did nothing else all winter, I'd do them.
Saying that you solve the out-of-shape problem, the next fact is that when it comes to brass tacks, the points at which your body comes in contact with the bicycle are the most common places to have problems. The sweet cheeks are the contact point with perhaps the highest amount of continuous weight applied while riding. There are forces of friction to deal with as well as the fact that it's a tender spot; you can run around barefoot on rough ground easily, imagine using even fine-grained sand paper for TP and you get the picture.
For me, getting the right saddle and getting it fit correctly were two processes that took a long time, but fixed the probelm.
Finding a saddle for riding mega-miles is both time consuming and can be expensive. I had the same saddle that came with my bike until I started riding over 80 miles. Up until that point (about 5-6 hours of riding), I could put up with just about anything. I've heard it said that any mistakes in fitting or equipment in the first 50 miles won't really come back to haunt you until about 150. I must have bought at least 4 saddles before settling into one I really liked for rides over 250 miles. When I say "really liked" it doesn't mean that I like sitting on it for fun either. Basically, there are 3 kinds of saddles:
- Ass-Hatchets: These are generally the ones that are too narrow. From the rear, it looks like they might cleave your pelvis in two with a good bump.
- Butt Grinders: These are too big. You have so much in contact with then that they find ways of rubbing against everything.
- Ball-Busters: These have some problem with the way the saddle is shaped in the front. And no offense to male species but just because the female version of the family jewels is a bit smaller and doesn't have a flagpole makes it no less painful, even small diamonds are worth as much as big rubies.
The second really imporant part of the saddle is its position. You must have the fit perfect and be willing to change it over the course of a ride. What works at the start when you are fresh may need some adjustment after hours in the heat. First,the saddle must be the correct height. If it is too high, you will rock on it and the friction will become a problem. If it is too low, you will have added considerably to the already large weight on your glutes and wreck havoc on your knees. When the saddle is a perfect height for me, I feel as though I am suspended over the bike with each pedal stroke taking a little pressure off each side. I have also found through experimentation that I prefer a level saddle at the start, but at the end of about 200 miles, tilting the saddle just a tad downwards helps me to avoid rubbing when I am tired and my core isn't holding me in place as well.
One of my favorite tricks for ensuring that my saddle is in the right position during a long ride is to ask the person riding behind me to critique. After all, they have a far better view of your tokus than you do and millimeters count in the game of position. Also, pay attention to the knees, they are an early warning that something is wrong with the saddle. Too low and the fronts of my knees hurt, too high and the backs of my knees hurt. I have seen no less that 3 riders, including myself, completely fall apart because the saddle was millimeters too low. In almost every case, it's been due to slippage during a brevet or other really long ride. Rain, in particular, is very good at loosening connections on the bike. So is fresh chip-seal.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Road Pixie's Riding History
I started riding regularly at a brisk age of 6 (when the training wheels came off). My dad was a marathon runner and to spend time with him, I would ride my bike next to him as he ran. His training runs were in the 5-10 mile range. We lived in southern Ohio which is very hilly and at the time was bike path free. Fortunately, we lived in the outer burbs where there were few cars. Nonetheless, the planning of the route using a paper map and the execution (using hand-written or memorized directions) was big part of my early days. I tried to be a runner too and finished my first 10K run at age 8, but I had lots of knee issues and the bike seemed like a better fit for me.
When I was 11 years old, I had a 10-speed purple Schwinn that I loved dearly. In fact, as a 12 year old in 1981, I would ride my Schwinn over 20 miles to the local theater to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark at the bargain price of $1.50. Then I would ride back. I The route was hilly, highly traffic intensive and temps were sometimes in the 90s with high humidity and I never had any issues whatsoever with making the distances. In fact, I marvel now at the audacity of doing the route at all. My mother now says she must have been nuts to let me do it. I never had my Schwinn fitted to me, never had bike shorts, never had a water bottle (they didn't put those on kids 10 speeds in the 70s). For a 12 year old, these things were not necessary for the route. The high traffic meant there were lots of traffic lights and my lack of a bottle meant that I stopped all the time to find drinking fountains. I was 12 so my bum was the size of a salad plate and I weighed about 90 lbs, not a lot of pressure there. The many hills also meant that I pedaled standing up all the time.
When I was 13 years old, the Schwinn got stolen and I saved my pennies to buy a new bike. My new bike (which I still own and ride) was a Austrian Puch road bike. Measuring the bike today, I see that it was far too large for me and the bike shop actually hacked the seat so that it was really far forward to accommodate shorter legs. I suppose that this was the smallest road bike they had at the time. Getting off the bike required care to avoid slamming my most humble of parts into the top tube. Nonetheless, I was able to get used to the ride and continued my riding in the 20-40 mile range up until I was about 16 (and got my driver's license). This bike did not fit me, yet I did successfully avoid too many issues by virtue of the hacked seat and being in my early teens. But I do remember that there was a significant break-in period and that I did not love this bike quite the way I had loved my Schwinn.
So we flash forward many years. Between 1982 and 2004, I bought only one other bike, a Trek 2100 which I got in my 20s. It was also over sized (a 56 cm) because I had ridden an over sized bike for so long that anything else felt wrong. In 2005, I finally got back to riding as a major hobby and after my first 50 miles ride, experienced the soreness that most people think of when the think about bike seats.
At this point, I was 35 years old and no longer had the advantage of the recovery that you automatically get when you are a teenager. After only 3 months, I was pushing into the 70 mile range with lots of pain in my bottom and lower back. I had to step back and assess the situation. I read lots of articles, read books and visited a local bike shop. This was partially successful. The following suggestions were made:
1. New bike
2. New shorts (mine were 15 years old, but at least I had bike shorts at this point)
This bike was all carbon as I was assured that carbon and its dampening properties would solve many of my issues. I even had the bike fitted. Unfortunately, the fitter took the textbook approach which said that someone of my height and flexibility should be laid out flat like a Tour De France rider. And the new bike, though smaller, was still too long in the top tube. Even 5 years ago, there were still very few options for the "ladies". I spent a very painful year on this bike, but did my first centuries. I didn't realize how painful they were at the time.
My first century connected a couple of my favorite short routes with exploration of the eastern Twin Cities. I had only recently moved to Minnesota, so I knew almost nothing about local geography. I got paper map and planned everything as I had for years. I planned water stops about every 30 miles. The route looped Lake Minnetonka (about 30 miles) then proceeded along various bike trails to St Paul where it continued to the bluffs along the St Croix River and looped back to Woodbury where it ended at a friend's house. I rode it on a summer day in about 10 hours and loved it. However, at 70 miles my knee hurt and did the whole thing on 5 gels which led to me bonking on the unexpectedly hilly terrain I found in the east. I recovered using my fifth gel to get me the last 12 miles and it was a week before I could get on my bike again. I started riding to work regularly in 2005 and set a personal goal of riding outside at least one time during every week of the year in 2006. You can imagine that I spent quite a bit of $$ on bike clothing to accomplish that goal since it included a couple of rides that were sub-zero. I also learned to ride (from the commute) on snow, ice, and slush.
I rode the Minnesota Ironman Bike Ride (100 miles) in April of 2006. This day was in the low 40s with driving rain and crippling headwinds. I went to the ride alone and at one of the rest areas at 60 miles, noticed long lines to the SAG wagons. Dripping wet riders looked completely miserable indoors as they sipped cocoa. I sat down and several people announced they were quiting. At this point, I was wearing scuba gloves and a garbage bag over my torso and I felt like the stop itself was some kind of test. I stood up and said "I'm not dead yet" and walked out to finish the ride. As I road out of town, I was the only one to leave. But about 5 minute later, I heard something behind me and sure enough, it was one of the guys from the table. "Well, the next stop is only 10 miles away," he said, "and after what you said, I figure this is better than waiting for a bus". We worked together against the rain and wind with each one taking a turn at the front for a couple of minutes. After an hour, we got to the next rest stop and he thanked me for convincing him to continue as he boarded the bus. I still had 30 miles left, but there were others and I hooked up with some of them. Together, we all got to end of the ride. About 10 miles from the finish, the clouds broke and rays of sunlight appeared. I felt like a vampire waking up in full sun - it was dazzling. Then, as soon as it came, the clouds slammed shut and it poured harder than I have ever seen rain pour, so hard that water washed over my rims and it was hard to steer. We made it and that ride may is one of the finishes I remember most vividly; it was an accomplishment, a feat to be at the end.
Between 2004 and 2009, I made some friends in the cycling community who helped me. In particular, credit goes to one of my best friends, Rick, who liked riding rides far above the 100 mile mark. The two of us fell into a real sweet spot with rides between 120-180 miles. This is really a sweet spot for distance riding since it is a range that can almost always be done in the summer daylight. The two of us did quite a bit of exploration and riding in 2007-2008. He continues to be my main long-distance riding buddy. I also met George, currently on the TCBC board, who bailed me out of an asthma attack on a hot ride in 2006. He's a ride leader and though long distance isn't a thing for him, I really like riding shorter rides with him (especially in the hills of Wisconsin).
2009 was my first year to try randonneuring. I had heard of Paris-Brest-Paris, but in 2008, TCBC started hosting brevets and this seemed to be a good intersection between the two kinds of rides I was doing. I did 2304K of brevets and permanents in 2009. It was also my first year to log over 5,000 miles. I decided to ride my first 1200K in 2010, the Cascades.
So here we are today. I've made some major errors and had some major triumphs. And there is only one thing about the sport of randonneuring and long distances that towers above everything else in terms of importance "It's all in your head".
When I was 11 years old, I had a 10-speed purple Schwinn that I loved dearly. In fact, as a 12 year old in 1981, I would ride my Schwinn over 20 miles to the local theater to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark at the bargain price of $1.50. Then I would ride back. I The route was hilly, highly traffic intensive and temps were sometimes in the 90s with high humidity and I never had any issues whatsoever with making the distances. In fact, I marvel now at the audacity of doing the route at all. My mother now says she must have been nuts to let me do it. I never had my Schwinn fitted to me, never had bike shorts, never had a water bottle (they didn't put those on kids 10 speeds in the 70s). For a 12 year old, these things were not necessary for the route. The high traffic meant there were lots of traffic lights and my lack of a bottle meant that I stopped all the time to find drinking fountains. I was 12 so my bum was the size of a salad plate and I weighed about 90 lbs, not a lot of pressure there. The many hills also meant that I pedaled standing up all the time.
When I was 13 years old, the Schwinn got stolen and I saved my pennies to buy a new bike. My new bike (which I still own and ride) was a Austrian Puch road bike. Measuring the bike today, I see that it was far too large for me and the bike shop actually hacked the seat so that it was really far forward to accommodate shorter legs. I suppose that this was the smallest road bike they had at the time. Getting off the bike required care to avoid slamming my most humble of parts into the top tube. Nonetheless, I was able to get used to the ride and continued my riding in the 20-40 mile range up until I was about 16 (and got my driver's license). This bike did not fit me, yet I did successfully avoid too many issues by virtue of the hacked seat and being in my early teens. But I do remember that there was a significant break-in period and that I did not love this bike quite the way I had loved my Schwinn.
So we flash forward many years. Between 1982 and 2004, I bought only one other bike, a Trek 2100 which I got in my 20s. It was also over sized (a 56 cm) because I had ridden an over sized bike for so long that anything else felt wrong. In 2005, I finally got back to riding as a major hobby and after my first 50 miles ride, experienced the soreness that most people think of when the think about bike seats.
At this point, I was 35 years old and no longer had the advantage of the recovery that you automatically get when you are a teenager. After only 3 months, I was pushing into the 70 mile range with lots of pain in my bottom and lower back. I had to step back and assess the situation. I read lots of articles, read books and visited a local bike shop. This was partially successful. The following suggestions were made:
1. New bike
2. New shorts (mine were 15 years old, but at least I had bike shorts at this point)
This bike was all carbon as I was assured that carbon and its dampening properties would solve many of my issues. I even had the bike fitted. Unfortunately, the fitter took the textbook approach which said that someone of my height and flexibility should be laid out flat like a Tour De France rider. And the new bike, though smaller, was still too long in the top tube. Even 5 years ago, there were still very few options for the "ladies". I spent a very painful year on this bike, but did my first centuries. I didn't realize how painful they were at the time.
My first century connected a couple of my favorite short routes with exploration of the eastern Twin Cities. I had only recently moved to Minnesota, so I knew almost nothing about local geography. I got paper map and planned everything as I had for years. I planned water stops about every 30 miles. The route looped Lake Minnetonka (about 30 miles) then proceeded along various bike trails to St Paul where it continued to the bluffs along the St Croix River and looped back to Woodbury where it ended at a friend's house. I rode it on a summer day in about 10 hours and loved it. However, at 70 miles my knee hurt and did the whole thing on 5 gels which led to me bonking on the unexpectedly hilly terrain I found in the east. I recovered using my fifth gel to get me the last 12 miles and it was a week before I could get on my bike again. I started riding to work regularly in 2005 and set a personal goal of riding outside at least one time during every week of the year in 2006. You can imagine that I spent quite a bit of $$ on bike clothing to accomplish that goal since it included a couple of rides that were sub-zero. I also learned to ride (from the commute) on snow, ice, and slush.
I rode the Minnesota Ironman Bike Ride (100 miles) in April of 2006. This day was in the low 40s with driving rain and crippling headwinds. I went to the ride alone and at one of the rest areas at 60 miles, noticed long lines to the SAG wagons. Dripping wet riders looked completely miserable indoors as they sipped cocoa. I sat down and several people announced they were quiting. At this point, I was wearing scuba gloves and a garbage bag over my torso and I felt like the stop itself was some kind of test. I stood up and said "I'm not dead yet" and walked out to finish the ride. As I road out of town, I was the only one to leave. But about 5 minute later, I heard something behind me and sure enough, it was one of the guys from the table. "Well, the next stop is only 10 miles away," he said, "and after what you said, I figure this is better than waiting for a bus". We worked together against the rain and wind with each one taking a turn at the front for a couple of minutes. After an hour, we got to the next rest stop and he thanked me for convincing him to continue as he boarded the bus. I still had 30 miles left, but there were others and I hooked up with some of them. Together, we all got to end of the ride. About 10 miles from the finish, the clouds broke and rays of sunlight appeared. I felt like a vampire waking up in full sun - it was dazzling. Then, as soon as it came, the clouds slammed shut and it poured harder than I have ever seen rain pour, so hard that water washed over my rims and it was hard to steer. We made it and that ride may is one of the finishes I remember most vividly; it was an accomplishment, a feat to be at the end.
Between 2004 and 2009, I made some friends in the cycling community who helped me. In particular, credit goes to one of my best friends, Rick, who liked riding rides far above the 100 mile mark. The two of us fell into a real sweet spot with rides between 120-180 miles. This is really a sweet spot for distance riding since it is a range that can almost always be done in the summer daylight. The two of us did quite a bit of exploration and riding in 2007-2008. He continues to be my main long-distance riding buddy. I also met George, currently on the TCBC board, who bailed me out of an asthma attack on a hot ride in 2006. He's a ride leader and though long distance isn't a thing for him, I really like riding shorter rides with him (especially in the hills of Wisconsin).
2009 was my first year to try randonneuring. I had heard of Paris-Brest-Paris, but in 2008, TCBC started hosting brevets and this seemed to be a good intersection between the two kinds of rides I was doing. I did 2304K of brevets and permanents in 2009. It was also my first year to log over 5,000 miles. I decided to ride my first 1200K in 2010, the Cascades.
So here we are today. I've made some major errors and had some major triumphs. And there is only one thing about the sport of randonneuring and long distances that towers above everything else in terms of importance "It's all in your head".
Road Pixie's Advice to the new Randonneur/Randonnueuse
Recently, Road Pixie went to the annual TCBC recognition dinner. Normally, I hate these things, but BigG was going along with other friends, so I thought it would be fun. The idea of riding such long miles turned out to be deemed a little off the wall even by bike club enthusiast standards. In fact, the number one exclamation used was something along the lines of "How can you sit on bike saddle for 250 miles without turning your nether regions into hamburger?" When I thought about the answer, I realized just how personal and multi-facited the answer really was.
So I thought I would post some of my more hard-fought discoveries with the caveat that all these apply to me and not necessarily anyone else. Let's face it, after about 10 hours in the saddle (or doing anything), everything is personal. So what works for me, might not work for you. That said, following posts will detail not only what I tend to do now, but how I arrived at what I do. Perhaps that may help others in starting themselves down the path of endless miles.
I've noticed that many tips and hints are organized by a general category (clothing, nutrition, bike fit, etc). That does work, but what I have found over the years is that those are categories of solutions instead of being categories of problems. One of the hardest things for me was to figure out what the problem actually was. On the surface, it seems so simple; cycling is a physical activity, so ride miles, get a better bike, get the bike fit, eat right all seem obvious. What I found was that the various solutions all have different impacts on the different problems and sometimes solutions are complementary and sometimes they contradict each other.
In order of importance, here are the problems that I have had to deal with as I went from riding a few miles to many, many miles at one time.
So I thought I would post some of my more hard-fought discoveries with the caveat that all these apply to me and not necessarily anyone else. Let's face it, after about 10 hours in the saddle (or doing anything), everything is personal. So what works for me, might not work for you. That said, following posts will detail not only what I tend to do now, but how I arrived at what I do. Perhaps that may help others in starting themselves down the path of endless miles.
I've noticed that many tips and hints are organized by a general category (clothing, nutrition, bike fit, etc). That does work, but what I have found over the years is that those are categories of solutions instead of being categories of problems. One of the hardest things for me was to figure out what the problem actually was. On the surface, it seems so simple; cycling is a physical activity, so ride miles, get a better bike, get the bike fit, eat right all seem obvious. What I found was that the various solutions all have different impacts on the different problems and sometimes solutions are complementary and sometimes they contradict each other.
In order of importance, here are the problems that I have had to deal with as I went from riding a few miles to many, many miles at one time.
- Head
- Stomach/Metabolism
- Legs and feet
- Butt/Posterior
- Upper body (that's waist up)
The following posts will detail the strategies that I used to address these problems. It was only after I really got them under control that I realized just how personal the combination of solutions was to get all of the problems balanced. Utlimately, if you want to ride 600+ miles on your bicycle in 70+ hours, you are not going to feel fabulous all the time. In fact, at some point on every ride, there will likely be a massive low in at least one of these areas. So understanding how to prioritize a fix is critical and developing your own personal ability to identify the problem and the most optimal fix at the time. Training for long distances, for me, was more about figuring out how to problem-solve than it was about getting in shape.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
New Friends in Arizona: Casa Grande Ruins 200K
"You've got the best quads I've seen in a long time". It just goes to show that sometimes when you are really uncomfortable and thinking about your lackluster abilities that some unknown randonneur will just make your day. So here is the story.
I had been planning on doing the Casa Grande Ruins 200K on Jan 2 since completing Mt Lemmon. After copious planning, disaster struck just before Xmas when a virulent case of "knee"-monia set in. Without warming, my knee swelled up and I found out that I had some major issues with adductor magnus (aka the groin), gastrocnemius and soleus (aka the calf brothers) and the infamous IT Band. After 2 different therapeutic masseurs and a PT clucked their tongues, I was sure my 200K was doomed. I spent days doing the kind of stretching that I previously thought was only achievable by a rubber band. And gradually, things started to unlock and I could at least walk. So I flew to Arizona on New Years Eve promising everyone (including IronK) that I would not ride if I was in pain.
Dad picked me up at the airport after I celebrated ringing in the new year on the tarmac. New Year's Day, we went for a warm up ride with Dad's friend, Lemonade Guy (so named because he sells lots of lemonade). Maybe it was the excitement, maybe it was the nice warm temperature, but the knee seemed pretty okay. I scanned the elevation picture for the ride again. At only 1400 or so feet, this was going to be pancake flat. I decided to try my luck.
Dad dropped me off in Casa Grande at about 7:00 am. I spent most of the time stretching everything I could think of (including things that didn't hurt). It was only 45 degrees or so at the start which frankly seemed really warm after seeing that the temperature at home was -15. I wore tights anyways on principle.I swore to myself that I would start the brevet very slowly and ride for at least half an hour to get the knee really loosened up. This proved very hard with no less than 40 people all at a very exciting start with the sun coming up on a beautiful sky and nice smooth pavement. I quickly fell off the back riding at a even cadence in a really low gear. The route first headed north up Pinal Ave before turning east and heading up a very scenic highway. At this point, I knew that the only real "hill" of the ride was approaching. I busied myself watching giant cactus and some really interesting boulder formations in the hills surrounding the road. With the sun now up, there were some really pretty shadows across the rocks and the hills blocked the sun from being in my eyes too much. I was feeling a little breathless and started to wonder if I was having a bad day, then I realized it was because the hill had actually started about a mile before - duh!
There was a really nice view at the top of the valley below. I passed a guy with a flat but he smiled said he was almost done changing it. With the hill out of the way and the knee feeling pretty good, I breathed a big sigh of relief. I started gradually picking up my pace as I rode through what they call the cotton belt. Cotton is a big crop in this area and harvest must have been recent because there were cotton "balls" all over the side of the road. Made me just a little nostalgic for the snow back home. I pulled into the Casa Grande Ruins at around 9:30 and saw several others in various states of visiting the control. I have to confess that I didn't spend as much time at the ruins as I might have originally planned, but they did look really neat and I plan on returning at some point as a tourist. As I dismounted my bike, I noticed that even though it wasn't hurting while I was riding, my knee was quite stiff. I stretched more and started off.
About 10 miles later I noticed that I really wasn't able to push it quite as much as I had been. At this point, 2 riders passed me including another woman (something I don't see much of). I followed them for a couple of miles before introducing myself. They were Bob and Lorraine from Vail (the AZ version). Lorraine was on her very first brevet, though Bob was a PBP ancien. I got to chatting with them and we wound up working as a team for the rest of the brevet. Amazingly, they used to live in the Twin Cities (very close to me) - small world.The three of us reached the bike shop at about 11:30 and by this time, the knee was starting to hurt. I made a mad dash for the advil bottle in my pack and stretched more. By this time, temps were in the 60's so I stripped down to shorts and a wind vest.The three of us left the bike shop just before 12 for the 36 mile out-and-back trip on Indian 15. The first 8 miles of this are on some really gnarly pavement. The jarring was hell on the knee so I attempted to speed up with the hopes it might be smoother (it wasn't). Finally, at mile 8, we entered the reservation and the pavement improved considerably. We all breathed a major sigh of relief.
The next 27 miles were beautiful with rocky hills, cactus, desert and at least 40 border patrol SUVs. I knew that this section was slightly uphill until the turnaround at mile 88, but hadn't realized how much of a toll that would take. There were also a few rollers that had me humming. I confess that Lorraine and Bob totally pulled me through this section - I'd would have been in considerable pain at the turn around had they not been there. I rode the final 5 miles to the turnaround using only my right leg.As it was, I was still in some pain at the turnaround - swelling had gotten worse as well. I got off my bike,walked over to Susan's pickup and out came what truly has to be the greatest cycling complement I have ever heard, "You've got the best quads I've seen in a while". Boy that perked me up along with seeing several others from Mt Lemmon who all said
hi. This is all part of the camaraderie aspect of the sport that I personally find to be a real treat. After having some really nice turkey wraps, Bob, Lorraine and I headed back.
I had some real trepidation about my knee, but the rest of the ride was really a gradual downhill and we made really good time without pushing it too hard. Bob paused to take a telephoto shot of a house up in the hills (we debated whether it was actually there or not). By the time we got back to the bike shop it was about 4:30 and the swelling had disappeared from my knee. In fact, it felt better than it had all day. Go figure!
Major kudos to those that helped me out on this ride. I think I would have finished, but I would definitely not have had as much fun. It doesn't always work out that people hang as a team, but this was really a treat. I hope to see both of them for the 300K in February as well as the many other new friends in AZ.
I had been planning on doing the Casa Grande Ruins 200K on Jan 2 since completing Mt Lemmon. After copious planning, disaster struck just before Xmas when a virulent case of "knee"-monia set in. Without warming, my knee swelled up and I found out that I had some major issues with adductor magnus (aka the groin), gastrocnemius and soleus (aka the calf brothers) and the infamous IT Band. After 2 different therapeutic masseurs and a PT clucked their tongues, I was sure my 200K was doomed. I spent days doing the kind of stretching that I previously thought was only achievable by a rubber band. And gradually, things started to unlock and I could at least walk. So I flew to Arizona on New Years Eve promising everyone (including IronK) that I would not ride if I was in pain.
Dad picked me up at the airport after I celebrated ringing in the new year on the tarmac. New Year's Day, we went for a warm up ride with Dad's friend, Lemonade Guy (so named because he sells lots of lemonade). Maybe it was the excitement, maybe it was the nice warm temperature, but the knee seemed pretty okay. I scanned the elevation picture for the ride again. At only 1400 or so feet, this was going to be pancake flat. I decided to try my luck.
Dad dropped me off in Casa Grande at about 7:00 am. I spent most of the time stretching everything I could think of (including things that didn't hurt). It was only 45 degrees or so at the start which frankly seemed really warm after seeing that the temperature at home was -15. I wore tights anyways on principle.I swore to myself that I would start the brevet very slowly and ride for at least half an hour to get the knee really loosened up. This proved very hard with no less than 40 people all at a very exciting start with the sun coming up on a beautiful sky and nice smooth pavement. I quickly fell off the back riding at a even cadence in a really low gear. The route first headed north up Pinal Ave before turning east and heading up a very scenic highway. At this point, I knew that the only real "hill" of the ride was approaching. I busied myself watching giant cactus and some really interesting boulder formations in the hills surrounding the road. With the sun now up, there were some really pretty shadows across the rocks and the hills blocked the sun from being in my eyes too much. I was feeling a little breathless and started to wonder if I was having a bad day, then I realized it was because the hill had actually started about a mile before - duh!
There was a really nice view at the top of the valley below. I passed a guy with a flat but he smiled said he was almost done changing it. With the hill out of the way and the knee feeling pretty good, I breathed a big sigh of relief. I started gradually picking up my pace as I rode through what they call the cotton belt. Cotton is a big crop in this area and harvest must have been recent because there were cotton "balls" all over the side of the road. Made me just a little nostalgic for the snow back home. I pulled into the Casa Grande Ruins at around 9:30 and saw several others in various states of visiting the control. I have to confess that I didn't spend as much time at the ruins as I might have originally planned, but they did look really neat and I plan on returning at some point as a tourist. As I dismounted my bike, I noticed that even though it wasn't hurting while I was riding, my knee was quite stiff. I stretched more and started off.
About 10 miles later I noticed that I really wasn't able to push it quite as much as I had been. At this point, 2 riders passed me including another woman (something I don't see much of). I followed them for a couple of miles before introducing myself. They were Bob and Lorraine from Vail (the AZ version). Lorraine was on her very first brevet, though Bob was a PBP ancien. I got to chatting with them and we wound up working as a team for the rest of the brevet. Amazingly, they used to live in the Twin Cities (very close to me) - small world.The three of us reached the bike shop at about 11:30 and by this time, the knee was starting to hurt. I made a mad dash for the advil bottle in my pack and stretched more. By this time, temps were in the 60's so I stripped down to shorts and a wind vest.The three of us left the bike shop just before 12 for the 36 mile out-and-back trip on Indian 15. The first 8 miles of this are on some really gnarly pavement. The jarring was hell on the knee so I attempted to speed up with the hopes it might be smoother (it wasn't). Finally, at mile 8, we entered the reservation and the pavement improved considerably. We all breathed a major sigh of relief.
The next 27 miles were beautiful with rocky hills, cactus, desert and at least 40 border patrol SUVs. I knew that this section was slightly uphill until the turnaround at mile 88, but hadn't realized how much of a toll that would take. There were also a few rollers that had me humming. I confess that Lorraine and Bob totally pulled me through this section - I'd would have been in considerable pain at the turn around had they not been there. I rode the final 5 miles to the turnaround using only my right leg.As it was, I was still in some pain at the turnaround - swelling had gotten worse as well. I got off my bike,walked over to Susan's pickup and out came what truly has to be the greatest cycling complement I have ever heard, "You've got the best quads I've seen in a while". Boy that perked me up along with seeing several others from Mt Lemmon who all said
hi. This is all part of the camaraderie aspect of the sport that I personally find to be a real treat. After having some really nice turkey wraps, Bob, Lorraine and I headed back.I had some real trepidation about my knee, but the rest of the ride was really a gradual downhill and we made really good time without pushing it too hard. Bob paused to take a telephoto shot of a house up in the hills (we debated whether it was actually there or not). By the time we got back to the bike shop it was about 4:30 and the swelling had disappeared from my knee. In fact, it felt better than it had all day. Go figure!
Major kudos to those that helped me out on this ride. I think I would have finished, but I would definitely not have had as much fun. It doesn't always work out that people hang as a team, but this was really a treat. I hope to see both of them for the 300K in February as well as the many other new friends in AZ.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Wind and Snow - A "character-building" and sublime 200K
In a quest to avoid having the Cascades be the superlative of anything, Road Pixie decided that a Permanent in December in Minnesota would be a great idea (of course, many have called me crazy). So I contacted the closest brevet organizer and planned my adventure. Originally, I had hoped this would have been during our stretch of unseasonably warm weather (with highs in the 40s). Alas, that weather ended just before the ride. So this was my first brevet ever in which the temperature never got to the freezing mark. Add a gradually shifting weather pattern to ensure a constant headwind and a start at a balmy 12 degrees, throw in a light snow and very little real sun and you've got the makings of a "character builder".
I met Rob, who was kind enough to call me brave instead of crazy, at the Kwik Trip in Apple Valley just before 7:00 am on December 5. Since both of my normal brevet bikes are either under repair or out of state, I was on my Trek Madone which isn't really set up for brevets, but it was only a 200K (at this point, I don't seem to consider that a long distance). Preparations included doing everything possible to avoid a flat including putting new puncture-resistance tires on with tubes containing sealent. The tires themselves had a light tread which later proved to provide some additional fun. Rob took pictures beforehand; always good to have photo documentation in a case like this one.
After the start from Apple Valley, the first stop was Faribault - about 34 miles more or less to the south. A nice south wind was blowing making this stretch much more strenuous than I might have thought. Of course, a 5 mph wind added to the 14 mph bike speed at 12 degrees works out to a wind chill of about -4. Fortunately, I was very well dressed (not too hot and not too cold). I noticed that the previous days' light snowfall was still around on the sides of the roads, a dusting to about 1/4 inch. The sunrise was really beautiful with the cold air as I left Apple Valley so even though I wasn't really making good time, I didn't care. About 30 minutes into the ride came the first nasty surprise: even with electrolytes in my sports drink, it had turned to an undrinkable mush (we're talking solid - can't even drink by unscrewing the top). I stopped at a truck stop near Bagley Road to throw one bottle in a microwave so that I could drink something. One of the truckers suggested adding some vodka, but I really think that might get difficult as a long term solution; I settled for adding additional salt.
The traffic was still light and I arrived at the Faribault control with about an hour extra in the bank. I got a bottle of gatorade, a Starbuck's Double Shot and some peanut butter cups. Fifteen minutes later, I was headed for the Sakatah Singing Hills Trail. I had really been looking forward to this section. It winds through the countryside close to Hwy 60, but far enough away to feel secluded.
Arriving at the trail, I noticed that there was enough snow to completely obscure the pavement and any irregularities. My headwind had turned into a crosswind (at least it was a change), but I found that pushing slick road tires through just 1/4 inch of snow took quite a bit more energy that one might have thought. I could comfortably ride about 12 mph without sliding on the pavement or being jarred by unseen hazards. I saw 2 people, along with hawks, woodpeckers, bunnies, a raccoon and a ton of animal footprints. I considered switching to Hwy 60 to pick up speed but every time I looked, all I saw was semis and no shoulder and the trail was really very pretty. So I stuck it out and I am very glad I did; the skeletons of the trees looked like lace against the sky and there are few things as impressive as a lake on the brink of freezing for the winter.
I managed to be so enthralled that I missed the unmarked turn onto Cty Rd 26 and did some bonus miles riding around Madison Lake. No one seemed to know where Cty Rd 26 was, they just drive by landmarks. Finally I mentioned that I was looking for the Casey's and immediately everyone knew where I was going. I arrived there with about 45 minutes to spare, had a quick bite and bought new chemical toe warmers (Rob had given me two sets, but in the cold they lasted 2 hours, not the 6 advertised). I dumped all the slush from my bottles, filled them with hot, salty sports drink and headed north on 26, at last a tail wind!
That didn't last long. I made the turn onto MN99 just in time for the 10 MPH wind to shift from the south to the east. For fifteen long miles (plus some nice rollers at the end) I had some significant swear words for the wind gods, MNDOT (who neglected to put a shoulder on the road), the continuing cold, and just a few lesser words for the route designer (Rob). There is always a low point on a brevet and this was it. When I finally turned north onto Cty Rd 21, my mood improved considerably - not to mention I got a crosswind. I rolled into the Lonsdale Control just as the sun began to set at about 4:20. I had picked up 30 minutes. I rushed the control since by this time, I noticed the only time I was really cold or wet was just after coming out of the warm stores. I emerged and turned all my lights on. On cue, the winds shifted to the NE so I got a nice new headwind. Despite this, I really picked up the pace. I started seeing Christmas lights after a beautiful sunset. And I only had about 25 miles left.
Some difficulties emerged on Scott Cty 8 with snow. Scott County has apparently decided that their 2 ft shoulders should dedicate at least a foot to a brutal buzz strip. That leaves only a bit left for bikes to ride on. Unfortunately, it was covered with snow making it hard to see where the road ended. Additionally, some very minor melting during the day caused it to ice up in places. This stretch was difficult in the dark with lots of traffic preventing me from just riding on the road. Finally, I got to Dakota County which has really nice bike paths and shoulders.
In Lakeville, many must have been doing holiday shopping since traffic was thick on a Saturday. Only 10 miles to go. I rode on as many roadside trails as possible since it kept me out of traffic. North of Lakeville and into Apple Valley houses were decked out with so many lights I thought there must be some kind of city wide clearance sale on them . Entire streets were covered so this was a really nice final stretch to start cooling down; I actually sang some carols at one point. I also passed an operating ski hill, how many brevets do you see that on!
I rolled into the Qwik Trip at about 7:15. My GPS said that my overall average was about 10.5 MPS and my moving average was 13; not the fastest brevet, but not bad all things considered. My bonus miles total 4 - 131 miles for the day. The cold and wind definitely took a toll - my HRM says I burned more calories on this ride than going up Mt Lemmon. But it was definitely worth it, I can't remember a brevet, or any other long distance ride, that I looked saw so many beautiful things that really made me feel like I was part of the changing seasons.
I left everything on at all times during the controls (I only took my helmet off once) and I spent as little time as possible inside, 20 minutes was the longest. My skin was always dry, but the outer layers of clothing were always a bit damp especially the fleece vest, this is how layering is supposed to work. The inner layers wick moisture to the outer ones where it can evaporate without cooling you off. It works beautifully when done correctly. The secret is to avoid warming up to the point where you sweat enough to overwhelm the bottom-most layer and get it wet. Many in the controls were surprised how little I was wearing, but in all honesty, the goal is to block the wind and keep the core warm. Layers that are bulky make pedaling difficult and don't allow adjustment. It's also good to think about how easy it will be to use the facilities; a long strip-tease in a truck stop stall gets to be a real drag.
Though I adore riding at night, I am also paranoid about being seen. I had two tail lights, one attached to my helmet and one on the bike, which I left on all day, and a headlight. I carry two sets of backup lights just to be certain. I also created my own ankle/leg bands by using reflective clothing tape to put streaks on my shins, calves and thighs. Since these are moving, they really improve visiblity. I also had piping on my wind jacket, a reflective vest, shoes, and gloves. I like putting reflective tape on my gloves so that cars can see a turn signal. Someone actually pulled alongside of me just after Lonsdale to comment that they could see me from a least a mile away. I was glad to get some real feedback not to mention knowing that the pickup slowly following me was not a serial killer.
I plan on riding this permanent again in the spring, summer, and next fall. I think that watching it change will be interesting and that I will see different aspects of the same places. This was unquestionably one of my more sublime rides, but isn't the quest for discovering some new aspect of the road one of the reasons all of us ride bikes in the first place.
I met Rob, who was kind enough to call me brave instead of crazy, at the Kwik Trip in Apple Valley just before 7:00 am on December 5. Since both of my normal brevet bikes are either under repair or out of state, I was on my Trek Madone which isn't really set up for brevets, but it was only a 200K (at this point, I don't seem to consider that a long distance). Preparations included doing everything possible to avoid a flat including putting new puncture-resistance tires on with tubes containing sealent. The tires themselves had a light tread which later proved to provide some additional fun. Rob took pictures beforehand; always good to have photo documentation in a case like this one.
After the start from Apple Valley, the first stop was Faribault - about 34 miles more or less to the south. A nice south wind was blowing making this stretch much more strenuous than I might have thought. Of course, a 5 mph wind added to the 14 mph bike speed at 12 degrees works out to a wind chill of about -4. Fortunately, I was very well dressed (not too hot and not too cold). I noticed that the previous days' light snowfall was still around on the sides of the roads, a dusting to about 1/4 inch. The sunrise was really beautiful with the cold air as I left Apple Valley so even though I wasn't really making good time, I didn't care. About 30 minutes into the ride came the first nasty surprise: even with electrolytes in my sports drink, it had turned to an undrinkable mush (we're talking solid - can't even drink by unscrewing the top). I stopped at a truck stop near Bagley Road to throw one bottle in a microwave so that I could drink something. One of the truckers suggested adding some vodka, but I really think that might get difficult as a long term solution; I settled for adding additional salt.
The traffic was still light and I arrived at the Faribault control with about an hour extra in the bank. I got a bottle of gatorade, a Starbuck's Double Shot and some peanut butter cups. Fifteen minutes later, I was headed for the Sakatah Singing Hills Trail. I had really been looking forward to this section. It winds through the countryside close to Hwy 60, but far enough away to feel secluded.
Arriving at the trail, I noticed that there was enough snow to completely obscure the pavement and any irregularities. My headwind had turned into a crosswind (at least it was a change), but I found that pushing slick road tires through just 1/4 inch of snow took quite a bit more energy that one might have thought. I could comfortably ride about 12 mph without sliding on the pavement or being jarred by unseen hazards. I saw 2 people, along with hawks, woodpeckers, bunnies, a raccoon and a ton of animal footprints. I considered switching to Hwy 60 to pick up speed but every time I looked, all I saw was semis and no shoulder and the trail was really very pretty. So I stuck it out and I am very glad I did; the skeletons of the trees looked like lace against the sky and there are few things as impressive as a lake on the brink of freezing for the winter.
I managed to be so enthralled that I missed the unmarked turn onto Cty Rd 26 and did some bonus miles riding around Madison Lake. No one seemed to know where Cty Rd 26 was, they just drive by landmarks. Finally I mentioned that I was looking for the Casey's and immediately everyone knew where I was going. I arrived there with about 45 minutes to spare, had a quick bite and bought new chemical toe warmers (Rob had given me two sets, but in the cold they lasted 2 hours, not the 6 advertised). I dumped all the slush from my bottles, filled them with hot, salty sports drink and headed north on 26, at last a tail wind!
That didn't last long. I made the turn onto MN99 just in time for the 10 MPH wind to shift from the south to the east. For fifteen long miles (plus some nice rollers at the end) I had some significant swear words for the wind gods, MNDOT (who neglected to put a shoulder on the road), the continuing cold, and just a few lesser words for the route designer (Rob). There is always a low point on a brevet and this was it. When I finally turned north onto Cty Rd 21, my mood improved considerably - not to mention I got a crosswind. I rolled into the Lonsdale Control just as the sun began to set at about 4:20. I had picked up 30 minutes. I rushed the control since by this time, I noticed the only time I was really cold or wet was just after coming out of the warm stores. I emerged and turned all my lights on. On cue, the winds shifted to the NE so I got a nice new headwind. Despite this, I really picked up the pace. I started seeing Christmas lights after a beautiful sunset. And I only had about 25 miles left.
Some difficulties emerged on Scott Cty 8 with snow. Scott County has apparently decided that their 2 ft shoulders should dedicate at least a foot to a brutal buzz strip. That leaves only a bit left for bikes to ride on. Unfortunately, it was covered with snow making it hard to see where the road ended. Additionally, some very minor melting during the day caused it to ice up in places. This stretch was difficult in the dark with lots of traffic preventing me from just riding on the road. Finally, I got to Dakota County which has really nice bike paths and shoulders.
In Lakeville, many must have been doing holiday shopping since traffic was thick on a Saturday. Only 10 miles to go. I rode on as many roadside trails as possible since it kept me out of traffic. North of Lakeville and into Apple Valley houses were decked out with so many lights I thought there must be some kind of city wide clearance sale on them . Entire streets were covered so this was a really nice final stretch to start cooling down; I actually sang some carols at one point. I also passed an operating ski hill, how many brevets do you see that on!
I rolled into the Qwik Trip at about 7:15. My GPS said that my overall average was about 10.5 MPS and my moving average was 13; not the fastest brevet, but not bad all things considered. My bonus miles total 4 - 131 miles for the day. The cold and wind definitely took a toll - my HRM says I burned more calories on this ride than going up Mt Lemmon. But it was definitely worth it, I can't remember a brevet, or any other long distance ride, that I looked saw so many beautiful things that really made me feel like I was part of the changing seasons.
- The clothing was essential to the success of the ride. For posterity, and those wanting to try it out themselves, here was my successful recipe for a windy ride that started in the teens and never hit freezing:
- Lake Winter Cycling Boots with 1 pair heavy smartwool socks and toe warmers.
- Craft long underwear top (Craft makes the best long underwear I have ever seen), a Perlizumi Vector winter cycling jersey, a thin North Face fleece vest, and a Novarra wind jacket.
- Skull cap, fleece headband under my winter cycling helmet (which has ear flaps and does not have vent holes), and a tubular neck wrap.
- Cycling shorts, thin fleece tights, and Perlizumi Amphib bib tights.
- My Specialized wind gloves under a pair of lobster mits.
- Sunglasses
I left everything on at all times during the controls (I only took my helmet off once) and I spent as little time as possible inside, 20 minutes was the longest. My skin was always dry, but the outer layers of clothing were always a bit damp especially the fleece vest, this is how layering is supposed to work. The inner layers wick moisture to the outer ones where it can evaporate without cooling you off. It works beautifully when done correctly. The secret is to avoid warming up to the point where you sweat enough to overwhelm the bottom-most layer and get it wet. Many in the controls were surprised how little I was wearing, but in all honesty, the goal is to block the wind and keep the core warm. Layers that are bulky make pedaling difficult and don't allow adjustment. It's also good to think about how easy it will be to use the facilities; a long strip-tease in a truck stop stall gets to be a real drag.
Though I adore riding at night, I am also paranoid about being seen. I had two tail lights, one attached to my helmet and one on the bike, which I left on all day, and a headlight. I carry two sets of backup lights just to be certain. I also created my own ankle/leg bands by using reflective clothing tape to put streaks on my shins, calves and thighs. Since these are moving, they really improve visiblity. I also had piping on my wind jacket, a reflective vest, shoes, and gloves. I like putting reflective tape on my gloves so that cars can see a turn signal. Someone actually pulled alongside of me just after Lonsdale to comment that they could see me from a least a mile away. I was glad to get some real feedback not to mention knowing that the pickup slowly following me was not a serial killer.
I plan on riding this permanent again in the spring, summer, and next fall. I think that watching it change will be interesting and that I will see different aspects of the same places. This was unquestionably one of my more sublime rides, but isn't the quest for discovering some new aspect of the road one of the reasons all of us ride bikes in the first place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)