There is a local bike shop (not my usual LBS, but still a pretty good one) that has Tuesday and Thursday morning rides. When I asked about it, I found out that it’s just women. I thought that would be good, since men tend to ride faster than women, and especially faster than I do. I also asked about their normal pace, and was told around 15-17 mph, after an easy warmup on the bike trail. My recent rides have been in the 15-16 mph range, but my speed is not very consistent. I was afraid of holding up the group, and was told that it’s a no-drop ride:  if you can’t stay with the group, someone will wait at turns to make sure you’re going the right way.

I didn’t make the connection that “if you can’t stay with the group” is essentially being dropped. It’s not intentional dropping, but the pace is determined by a few riders, not the group as a whole. I had never done a ride like that before: pace has always been mutually agreed upon in my groups of friends.

There’s the key… I almost always ride with friends. In large group rides, I have always found similar riders that are willing to buddy up for the ride. I enjoy riding with others, but today was a different experience. I was up early anyway, so decided to give it a try.

I was a bit concerned that this would be a group of women who don’t have to work because they have husbands with high-paying jobs… confirmed by the Cervelo and custom Madones…

I was concerned that this would be a group in which the women were friendly with each other, but new riders would have a hard time getting into the clique…confirmed

I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep up….confirmed

When I got to the shop, a couple of women said hi to me, but they weren’t overly friendly as a group. Uh oh, I knew that was a bad sign. One of the women hadn’t been riding much, and she was actually friendly, so we talked while we started “slow and easy.”

Right.

My definition of slow and easy = about 13 mph, spinning at a high cadence but low gear, just to warm up my legs. A couple of miles of this, and I can increase speed and gearing, and end up at the proposed 15-17 mph. I’m not fast, just half-fast

Their definition of slow and easy = ack! The one time I glanced at my bike computer during the first mile or so, we were doing 16.5 mph. Other than that one time, I couldn’t look, because I was concentrating too hard on trying to keep up. As Suzanne asked me later, “In what Universe is 17 mph slow and easy?”

I was off the back of the group immediately, as there were four women riding in a group at the front, pretty much ignoring that there was anyone behind them. I held with the woman who hadn’t been riding much until we got to a hill, then I fell behind. I have noted before that I don’t do well on morning rides, and today was no different. By the time I had gone just shy of three miles, the group was out of sight. At that point, I realized that the ride was not going to get better. I quit. I turned around and headed back, but I wasn’t upset about it. If nothing else, I have learned my limits this year: I can push myself, but only so far.

They didn’t intentionally leave me behind, they are just faster, more competitive riders than I am. It was a good learning experience for me, and makes me appreciate my regular biking buddies more than ever. I still have hopes of one day actually being “athletic,” but that time is not now. Not yet.

It will come.

I had a dream this morning, a nightmare actually.  I dreamed that it was the day you died and I was alone in your house.  I’ve had this dream before, a memory that comes back to me at night sometimes.  But this time I was in your old house, in the house I visited as a kid, not the house you lived in when you died.  I was walking through the house, crying up the creaky stairs.  In the face of such a devastating loss, I crammed myself in the little closet that used to be a telephone room and I closed the door.

Your doorbell rang and I untucked myself from the corner of the closet.  Out on the front steps was a real estate agent and a family ready to look at the house.  In my dream I didn’t even know the house was for sale.  I explained to the agent that you had just passed away that morning and it really wasn’t a good time.  The agent pushed the door open and showed the family in.  The mother started asking me all these questions.  I gave them a tour of your house, staggering through the rooms of memories with a lump in my throat and tears welling in my eyes.

My alarm clock sounded and I’ve never been so glad for it to go off.  I woke with that lump in my throat and swallowed it back down.  My pillow was wet from crying.  The dream felt so real that it took me a few minutes to realize it couldn’t have been real because you haven’t lived in that house for over 20 years.  I swept away the cobwebs of the dream and pulled the covers up under my chin, wiping my eyes with the sheet.  I miss you so much that sometimes it’s a physical ache in my chest.  This morning was one of those times.

I got up to ride my bike with Terry and Nick.  A good hard ride was just what I needed.  I pedaled up and across Shasta Dam, the water in the lake blue and glassy.  We followed a new piece of trail and at a split I jumped on the old the river trail and Terry and Nick followed the road back home.  I wanted to be by the river, to be near something beautiful.  I rode fast, pushing a big gear, passing everyone I encountered.

I reached the Sundial Bridge where there was a breast cancer awareness walk.  I got caught in a crowd of people dressed in pink.  I felt the lump rise up from my belly and bob in my throat.  I saw people walking in memory of loved ones lost and the ache stabbed at my chest.

Then I saw people walking with the word “Survivor” pinned to their shirts.  There were stickers and pins and hats and everything else rightly proclaiming survivorship.

White hot envy bubbled up.  And I know I shouldn’t be envious that they survived and you didn’t, but sometimes I am.  Most days I think you won, Gramma, that you lived the best life of anyone I know.  But some days I feel like cancer won, that it’s unfair that other people survived cancer and you didn’t.  It’s the ugly part of grief, Gramma, the part I hate the most.  It’s not that I wish these other people didn’t survive.  It’s not that at all.  It’s that I wish you were still here, too.

I tried to get out of the crowd of walkers, but no matter how many times I called out “On your left!” or “Coming through!” they didn’t move aside.  The entire bridge was filled from one side to the other with walkers and survivors and pink shirts.  I felt the tears pricking my eyelashes.  I needed to be anywhere but there.  I unclipped and walked my bike through the crowd, keeping my head down until I got to the road and onto the trail that would lead me home.  I rode uphill, stomping on my pedals, crying until hot snot ran with my tears.  By the time I got home I’d stopped crying, but the sadness remained.

Gramma, I don’t mind dreaming of you.  In fact, I love it when you talk to me in my dreams.  But this dream was different.  You weren’t in it at all.  And that’s what makes the sadness stay, the fact that each day I get further and further away from the life that had you in it.  Sometimes that loss devastates me all over again.

Come talk to me in my sleep, Gramma.  Sidle up next to me and drawl “Hi, honey.  How are you?”  Make me watch Jeopardy with you while we eat ice cream for dinner.  Come back, for just a little bit, even if it’s only in my dreams.

Love,

Alicia

photo courtesy of Trek

Yes, you read that correctly – photo courtesy of Trek, as in Trek bicycles. Their high end bikes are made in Waterloo, WI, which is approximately two hours drive from here. The ride is called the Chocolate Chase, and as they say,’What’s not to love about this ride?!’

There are a few reasons I want to do this ride, some more obvious than others:

1. Chocolate. This is the most obvious reason I would drive two hours for a 20 mile ride (I usually ride much further than 20 miles if I drive that far to get there). I love chocolate. This ride has chocolate at every rest stop. mmmmm, chocolate. As Andy would say, ‘I will ride for chocolate.’ Yup, me too!

2. The fees/donations from this ride benefit Gilda’s Club and a group called Team Survivor Madison. Both are cancer support groups, for anyone affected by cancer. This includes families and friends of cancer survivors, as well as cancer patients and survivors. Gilda’s Clubs were formed in honor of Gilda Radner, who died of ovarian cancer. Gilda was a fighter, but ovarian cancer is commonly known as a ‘silent killer’, because by the time it is detected, the disease is often too advanced to treat effectively.

When I was not quite twenty-three years old, I was diagnosed with stage 1a ovarian cancer. At such an early stage, removal of the tumor is the only treatment required or suggested. I was blessed. One of my doctors called me her miracle girl: not only was I very young to have ovarian cancer, it was also caught very early, so I was still able to have children.

I would have benefited from the kind of contact offered in groups like Gilda’s Club, and helping with funding for their free services is a form of paying it forward to me. A cause dear to my heart.

3. Driving two hours to do a ride that will take less time than the drive did is crazy enough to really appeal to me. I also talked Suzanne into doing it with me, so I will have my best biking buddy along to enjoy the ride and chocolate.

Next March will be my twentieth anniversary of being free of cancer. I hope that the people who benefit from my registration fee will be able to say the same someday.

I can’t deny the mental benefits of chocolate, either…

Let me preface this by saying that I was really looking forward to my ride today. The weather was beautiful, and this morning I was feeling like my legs were just itching to get out there. I waited to ride until fairly late in the afternoon, though, because it’s my favorite time to ride. For lunch, I made BLTs. They sounded good, and I used whole wheat bread with plenty of lettuce and tomato. I figured that would keep me going for awhile, even though I didn’t ride until a couple of hours later.

Well, yes, it worked. I guess. Ugh, too much saturated fat! But I didn’t feel hungry.

I did feel fat. And slow. Especially since today I was doing the route with The Hill. It’s not a terrible hill by most standards: 8% grade for part of it, but not all. The problem with The Hill is that it is deceptive…there are three false summits. I have only ridden it a few times, so today I was thinking there were only two, and that the third was the real top. No such luck. But, following is why I actually managed the hill without too much difficulty.

The Music

Until today, I have never ridden with headphones, mostly because I like the sounds of the birds. I ride in a fairly rural area, so it’s pretty quiet, and I enjoy the peace. I decided to give music a try, for a change. I listen to music all the time at home, and thought it might be a nice addition to my ride. I am also tired of the high-pitched buzz of cicadas right now.

I knew my current playlist would not be a good workout mix: too much mellow music to really keep the legs pumping. I put together a new playlist, keeping in mind that the music had to have a good tempo. Here is the set of songs that I used (don’t laugh too hard – it’s kind of a funny combination)

• You Are a Tourist – Death Cab for Cutie
• Move it on Over- George Thorogood
• M!ssundaztood – P!nk
• The Day That Never Comes – Metallica (very unusual choice for me)
• Movin’ On – Good Charlotte
• The Mystery Zone – Spoon
• The Celibate Life – The Shins (I had to add this one, it was way too appropriate)
• That Was Just Your Life – Metallica
• Uprising – Muse
• According to You – Orianthi
• Why Did I Ever Like You – P!nk
• Oxford Comma – Vampire Weekend (love this song!)
• My Bloody Valentine – Good Charlotte
• Gear Jammer – George Thorogood
• It’s The End of the World as We Know It – R.E.M.
• Steady, As She Goes – The Raconteurs
• Lateralus – Tool
• Girl Sailor – The Shins
• ‘Cuz I Can – P!nk
• With or Without You – U2
• Got Nuffin’ – Spoon
• Walcott – Vampire Weekend
• Triad – Tool

Since I have not posted about music on this blog before, it is not immediately obvious that a few of these choices are highly unusual for me. I very rarely listen to Metallica, Tool,  and Good Charlotte.  All of the others are regular artists, although some of the songs are new to me.

I was riding along with You Are a Tourist playing, when I hit a little bump. My iPod was on “shake to shuffle,” and suddenly I was listening to Gear Jammer  by George Thorogood. After that, the order of the songs was totally random, and there were a few times that I didn’t recognize what was playing.

As I reached the bottom of The Hill, Movin’ On started. The timing was perfect! It was upbeat enough that it kept me going to what I thought was the top of the hill. I have been stomping/mashing hills lately, without gearing down, to build strength in my legs (it works). Today when I saw that last crest, I had to sit down and drop gears. I was huffing and puffing by the time I got to the top, and my legs were really feeling it. But I made it, at least in part due to the song pushing me.

After that, the ride should have been easy. I had The Hill behind me, and the rest of the ride is rolling, with just a couple of short climbs. I was still feeling slow, and noticed that in general I was riding in a lower gear than I have been recently. I didn’t get in the big ring at all, even though last time I rode this route I spent most of my time in 50-18. I chalked it up to a heavy lunch and trouble breathing. I am highly allergic to ragweed, and the sides of the road are full of it right now, in all its flowering ugliness.

Whatever the reason, I was slow for the entire ride. When I was about six miles from home, my legs felt like they were going to cramp. They didn’t, but my obliques did. I had a “stitch” in my side for the rest of the ride, which then made me tense my shoulders. I spent those last six miles (which are flat) alternating between “Man, that hurts!  Why the heck do I have a cramp in my side?” and, “Relax your shoulders, you moron! No wonder your neck hurts!” Seriously, that was my internal conversation the rest of the way home.

Who knows what happened, but I think it’s interesting that the hardest part of the ride (The Hill) became just a blip in my memory. It’s also interesting that I will forget the suffering of the last six miles today, and look forward to riding tomorrow. Glutton for punishment, perhaps?

“Looking for something completely different to do this weekend other than raking leaves and pasting up wallpaper etc? Feed your inner child, and actually eat food, at the rare vintage BMX & bike show & shine this Sunday up at: Roberto’s Powder coating 156 Riverside Place Morningside QLD 4170″
words time-shared via philtron

I think all of the players are laughing at todds dismount in this photo. Pics from cooper

Sunday past saw the Studs host the Brisbane teams in their first home league games. The Studs played four league games playing against Shudup Legs, Just the Tip and XXX twice. After a few league games I think we can now summarize the Studs playing style as physical and void of logic and reason.  For all of the four games played we lost all of them, however with each game the studs were getting better and better and the last game against XXX we even got some points on the board. This year is a big development year for the team and its good to see our performance increase with each match.  Along with the league games we had the usual throw in polo matches were some of the new GC players had a chance to play with and against the Brisbane players.

Thanks again to the Brisbane players who came down, the spectators, and the GC riders for coming down to support the Studs.

Bike riding has always been a hit or miss activity for Kim and I. Sometimes it takes half the day to convince each other that going for a ride would be the perfect weekend activity. Other times we wake up in the morning look at each other and basically see if the other wants to go for a ride ( no punning intended).

Yesterday was the latter of those two situations. After a bak fast of our now standard homemade oatmeal we grabbed our bikes and headed toward Palo Alto. The ride from Mountain View to Palo Alto is beautiful. Even though you are riding through the “Burbs” it is the trees and smells that make you feel as if you are in the wilderness ( even passing a boy getting a haircut in his front lawn seems outdoorsy on a day like yesterday).

One in Palo Alto we went straight to the Stanford campus. There we ended up at their wonderful art museum to check on some of their new exhibits that they have. On in particular that is very interesting is the California books exhibit. Here the are showcasing all unique book makers in the California area.

I had the time to ride it on Thursday afternoon, and the weather was gorgeous that day. My idea of the perfect weather for riding is dry, 70s to low 80s (has to be dry, not humid for low 80s), and partly sunny, with some pouffy clouds. I got ready to go, and decided to wear my Team Fatty kit, because it is the most comfortable kit I have, not to mention the fact that I really like it. The only potential drawback is that the shorts have light pink running up a large portion of the legs and over the hip: I am not sure if this area is light enough that it will become translucent if worn in the rain. I also mixed up some of Andy’s magic potion in one of my water bottles (the same thing he put in one of my water bottles for the Vermont ride, which is probably what helped me recover during the ride), and I was good to go.

The first part of the route heads due West, which is also the direction from which bad weather approaches. As I started out, I noticed that there were some dark clouds to the north. I wasn’t concerned, since they didn’t look too threatening, and I was determined to do the ride even if the weather was iffy. The sun was shining through the clouds, and it was quite pretty, so I stopped to snap a quick photo:It was getting pretty dark to the north, and I was beginning to wonder if it would be smarter to do my usual short route instead. The first four and a half miles are the same for both routes, so when I got to the turning point I pulled out my phone to check the weather (there’s an app for that There was some rain coming, but nothing severe, so I stayed with my original plan.

The wind was crazy! I couldn’t tell which direction it was blowing, because it seemed like a headwind to my face, but I was cruising along in a high gear with low effort. My legs have definitely gotten stronger over the summer, but not enough to ride at 16-17 mph in a strong headwind. When I made one of my turns, I suddenly had a very definite tailwind. It was awesome! I cruised up a long hill at 16 mph without gearing down, and putting in minimal effort.

I wasn’t quite halfway through my ride when I felt a few raindrops. Other than wondering what my shorts were going to look like, I wasn’t concerned. If it rained hard, I would just put in some time cleaning up my bike later that evening. I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed to ride until I got out and really started to relax. Fortunately, the rain didn’t amount to more than a brief shower for part of my ride, and I was glad that I hadn’t taken my short route.

The ride passes through areas of farm fields, and as I came around a bend I noticed four Sandhill cranes nearby. I stopped to see if I could perhaps get a photo of them. I did, although it isn’t terribly clear:

While I stood there watching them, they did a little “dance,” with two lifting their wings and jumping in the air. If you look closely at the photo, you can see that two of the birds have their heads tilted back. It is the wrong season for their mating dances, so I am not sure what this type of communication means, but it was breathtaking anyway. Watching this brought peace to my heart, and I finished my ride feeling lighter inside.

Maybe it’s my favorite ride because in one way or another I always lose the stress of day-to-day life on the ride. There have been times that I have suffered through the ride, but even the suffering clears everything else out of my head. Whatever the reason, I am now determined to make time to ride it more often.

You probably woke up before your alarm clock sounded.  If you were lucky, your mom woke you with a kiss on your forehead.  You’d hurry into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but only the front ones because today was not a day to waste time on petty things like molars.

image courtesy of bikeradar.com

After your teeth were clean enough and your hair combed to perfection, you’d pull on your First Day of School Outfit, laid out carefully the night before.  You’d check your reflection in the mirror and nod.  Looking good, looking REAL good.

image courtesy of redbubble.com

You’d top off your outfit with your brand new pair of shoes, pristine shoes scant of scuff marks.

image courtesy of hanyaorangiseng.wordpress.com

 You’d pack your lunch, a PB&J with the perfect jelly to peanut butter ratio, into your brand new lunchbox.

image courtesy of pepperjackhome.com

You’d navigate your Trapper Keeper and your pencil box full of freshly sharpened pencils and place your lunch gingerly inside your backpack, the one you’d picked out specially, agonizing over the selection in the backpack aisle until you found the one that was just right.

image courtesy of newrelizingbikes.blogspot.com

With any luck, you’d get to school early.

image courtesy of kids.nationalgeographic.com

Maybe even early enough to meet your friends on the playground for a little before school recess.

image courtesy of littlelambland.com

And then you’d summon your courage and walk to class to meet your teacher, who upon first glance seemed a little nutty.

image courtesy of bicycle-worldrecords.com

 You soon discovered that your teacher was the kind who not only loved music, but art, too.

First Bike by Mary Carol Williams

When it came time for math, your teacher explained it in such a way that you, the kid who hated math, felt like Einstein.

image courtesy of frontpsych.com

Before you knew it lunchtime came around and nothing, nothing was such a relief as when a friend rescued you from sitting alone at the lunch table.

image courtesy of alternativecommutepueblo.com

 After lunch and a sweaty recess of dominating the tetherball court, your teacher would lead you back into class, where you’d cool off, rest your head on your desk and maybe even nod off a second or two under the calming rhythm of your teacher’s voice reading a good book.

Me and My Bike by Ander

Then you’d pull out your notebook, all the pages crisp and white, just waiting for your words, your magnum opus, What I Did On Summer Vacation.

image courtesy of visithollywoodfl

If you were really lucky, you visited the library.  The librarian, who smelled like chocolate chip cookies and old books, helped you check out a stack of books to take home.

image courtesy of bostonbiker.org

And just like that, the first day was over.  You’d race home and tell your mom all the details of the day.  And then before the summer sun settled down for the night, you’d ditch your school stuff and race out the front door to play with your neighborhood friends.

image courtesy of cyclecenterct.com

After all, even Einstein didn’t study all the time.

Albert Einstein, Santa Barbara

But, the clincher was when I discovered that

• I have bike grease on my nightshirt…

In the hopes that Andy and I could get in a bike ride, I took along my kit, pedals, and shoes. We are close to the same height, so his road bike is about the same size as mine. He graciously allowed me to use his road bike, while he used his cyclocross bike, which is a bit slower. Having him as slow as possible is very  important when I ride with him, as he is speedy and I am not. Anyway, I forgot/didn’t have room to take my saddle, which was, ahem, somewhat disconcerting. We had time to go for a ride the day we got there, so got geared up and ready to go.

He cruised down the lawn to the driveway. I started to, but immediately discovered that the saddle was way too high, and walked down instead. He made the necessary adjustments, and away we went. The first stretch of the ride is a gravel road and all downhill, which is no big deal if the gravel is well packed. It wasn’t, so I took it pretty slowly: unfamiliar bike, guy’s saddle, gravel…enough of a combination to make me nervous. Oh, and I was supposed to do my best not to crash his bike. No pressure. All was fine until I came to a sharp curve that happened to have very loose gravel. I skidded sideways, wobbled, nearly floundered, and yelled a bad word. I recovered without falling, and noticed that Andy had stopped and waited up ahead of me to make sure I didn’t wipe out. Finished the gravel without further incident.

Once we got out onto the road, it was nice and smooth, although there is no shoulder and traffic is passing at 45 mph. It was a little rolling, but there weren’t really hills, just easy riding. I didn’t have a bike computer, so I didn’t know how fast we were going, and I was trying to keep up with Andy. That was my first mistake. I learned later in the ride that even though he was ahead of me, he would slow down to wait if I fell behind. I had a slight cramp under my right rib cage, but attributed it to both the different bike geometry and the heat.

The beginning of the ride was both easy and significantly downhill, but it was hot. I suddenly felt truly miserable and had to stop, but I assumed it was just the heat. I had chills, and my heart was pounding. I know my face was beet red, but that happens even when I’m not too hot. Andy very patiently waited for me, and made sure I drank plenty and cooled down a bit. I couldn’t figure it out, though: I don’t do very well in the heat, but I almost never feel that bad, especially on an easy ride. We kept going, and came to a lovely hill.

Or, it would have been lovely if I had been feeling okay. It isn’t a very large hill, and normally would have been one that I could handle without any problem. Not this day, though. I got halfway up, and absolutely had to stop. I know, I know, it’s only worse if you stop on a hill, but my legs felt like they could not go any further. I said some bad words again, out of pure frustration with my body. I finally had a chance to ride with Andy, and my body just would not cooperate! Andy was the epitome of patience and reminded me how to beat the hill. I said I wanted to either die or jump in the stream that I could hear. Never mind that the stream was down a steep slope. He said we had a couple of options, but had to get back to the house somehow. He offered the option of me turning back to the town we had just passed, and he could come pick me up. Or we could keep going. Stubbornness won out. I still wanted to die, but was going to do whatever I could to make it up that stupid hill.

I had to stop again before I made it to the top, but I eventually made it. Andy would ride ahead a little way, then come back to check on me. I didn’t mention to him how much I appreciated that: having someone who feels fine right next to you while you are in agony doesn’t make it any easier. At one point, he rode just a little way in front of me, and suddenly was back. He told me that the point where he had turned around was the top of the hill, and cheered me on. If I hadn’t felt so miserable, I would have been mortified that it was so hard for me to climb that hill. From there it was seriously downhill. As in, I think I just hit the highest speed I have ever gone on a bike and surpassed the speed limit downhill. Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous or afraid of crashing.

We got back to the town that is about six miles from his house, and stopped for a couple of minutes. I was feeling much better, and actually was enjoying riding again at this point. We had already been out much longer than planned, so we split up. He is a strong rider, and would be back at the house in just fifteen or twenty minutes. The plan was that I would continue behind him at my own pace, and call him if I wanted him to come back and pick me up. Did I mention that I’m stubborn?

He was quickly out of sight, and I plodded along behind. Since there was no rush, I took my time and checked out the wildlife along the way. There was a bit of a hill on the way out of the town, and I started up it. Halfway up the hill my legs were protesting, and I didn’t want a recurrence of wanting to die. I decided to get off the bike and walk for a bit.

Aside from being stubborn, I do not walk hills. Ever. I will stop in the middle and rest, but I won’t walk them. This day, I had just had enough of fighting with my body, and decided to walk a bit. I clipped out left foot first, as always…

I didn’t notice that the verge sloped quite a bit, because there was tall grass. As I leaned slightly to clip out my right foot, I tipped over. Totally. Both legs up in the air, which naturally clipped my shoe out. The grass was high and soft, I was unhurt, and it struck me as tremendously funny. I lay there for a minute, just laughing and hoping that nobody had seen my ridiculous fall. No such luck. It’s Vermont – people will stop to help you no matter what. A car pulled up and someone called to me to ask if I was okay. I was laughing, and answered yes, so they pulled away. Thank goodness. I had experienced enough embarrassment for one ride already!

Stood up, dusted myself off, and walked a short distance. I climbed back on, finished the hill, and enjoyed the rolling area back to the house. The gravel drive was still tricky, but easier going uphill than downhill. I was feeling so good that I stopped to move a baby snapping turtle off the road:

Baby snapping turtle

I finished the ride without further incident, and felt good that I had persevered. I still couldn’t figure out why I had felt so miserable, until Andy said he suspected I had ridden too hard too soon. Yup, I would say that was the problem, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I had tried to keep up with him, and I should have started at my usual pace until I had been on the bike awhile.

Valuable lessons learned:

Listen to your body, even when you don’t want to hear it

When you ride with a friend who is a much stronger rider than you are, and he is patient and kind, and doesn’t make you feel stupid despite the fact that the ride is pretty easy, you have a very special friend indeed.

Don’t use a man’s saddle if you can help it (if you are a woman, of course). My, ahem, girl parts were a bit sore for a couple of days.

Chamois cream is wonderful, especially on hot rides.

Despite the sections of misery, it was a good ride. Every ride is a good ride.

I did end up going for a ride, albeit 14 miles instead of the 22 I had planned. I didn’t leave the house until 7PM, and as I left I realized that even if I rode at a fairly good pace, I could potentially be riding on a bad road at a dangerous time. You know the time: just at dusk, when the light is beginning to fade, and it’s hard for drivers to see cyclists. I didn’t wish to add a car/cycle accident to my list of adventures, so I took a shorter route. Here is my pre-ride post…

It is Tuesday, which prior to teaching certification was “shirk your responsibilities day,” with Amy. Since it’s summer vacation, we have been able to shirk a few times, and we had plans to do some quilting for today. That isn’t the problem: the plans for quilting didn’t change. I told Amy last night that I wanted to go for a ride this morning, so she was coming over this afternoon instead.

I should know better.

I don’t particularly enjoy riding in the morning, and today was no different. I ate breakfast, had coffee, and checked my e-mail. I had plenty of time to go for my usual 22 mile ride, take a shower, and be presentable by the time she got here. Right. So did I?

No, of course not. That would have made too much sense, and it would have taken advantage of the beautiful weather. I thought I could go for a ride tonight instead, as long as I leave by about 6:30 (I always try to leave plenty of time in case of a flat, bad weather, swarm of locusts, whatever)…

What a dork.

• Race from Caernarfon to Cardiff, self-supported, under only your own power, along the entire WC2C route.
• No pre-arranged support, with the exception of maildrops to a post office.
• Don’t break the law.

The rules are lifted from the Colorado Trail Race, which incidentally starts on August 1st, maybe be one day I’ll go over there and have a play? Anyway, prep for the WC2C started last month with an e-mail to my favorite cereal bar companies, Eat Natural and Bounce Foods. Thought I’d see if they wanted to support me with the ride, seems they did. Thanks guys!!!

So, the plan was to set off by train nice and early on Friday 29th (tomorrow) and ride overnight. Well seems my plans have been upset. The bike has required new hub bearings both front and rear, I’ve fitted a new axel but im still waiting for the spacers and I need to fit a new chain. On top of that, I seem to have developed a chesty cough after the Brussels 24hr ride which has been with me for a week and giving me coughing fits late at night. And on top of that I was stung by a wasp on Tuesday night whilst out riding with The Carbon Monkey (aka Tom) and my ankle has swelled up to twice it’s size. Walking is painful, never mind riding 200 miles.

So, I’ve decided to put the ride back two weeks. That gives me time to create a more detailed GPX track of the route, and time for the weather to cool down a little. I can’t go biking in Wales without getting wet!

7 Bridges will be included this year:
Story Bridge
Goodwill Bridge
Victoria Bridge
William Jolly Bridge
Kurilpa Bridge
Go Between Bridge
Eleanor Schonell (Green) Bridge

So at midday on Friday 15^th we set of from Blackheath, London and headed towards the Grand Place, Brussels, first up,  90 miles to Dover. Going was slow leaving London, an early puncture, traffic lights and a sewage leak blocking the road meant we had a slow first leg to Meopham. Going was much better heading through Kent despite the slight head wind and strong sun. The second stop was at the Rasa Kerala Spice Indian restaurant in Charing. By this point it was clear that not all the riders would make Dover and the ferry by 7pm so the decision was made to move our crossing back a few hours.

Sometime after midnight we had regrouped in Calais and were ready to ride the 150 remaining miles to Brussels. I was leading a group of 19 riders along dark, flat French roads. Stopping every 32-38 miles at a control for food and water. For many this was the first time they had ridden at night, it was the perfect introduction. The threat of rain behind us and the 24-hour deadline pushed us along. The temperature was pleasant, the group good humored with plenty of banter and friendship. One of the Sheffield lads fitted a Bluetooth speaker to his bike; listening to Ledzeppelin and Bruce Springsteen on the fast, dark French roads was quite surreal. We kept a nice moving average of between 18-20mph. There were no tired grumpy guys. Good times.

We left the final stop at 10.20am to ride the reaming 20 miles to Brussels.  Allowing for traffic and city roads, this should give us enough time to make the midday deadline. Despite unknowingly cycling on a motorway classified road, and following a misplaced route sign we made Grand Place for 11.40am. We had done it! London to Brussels in 24 hours! Now time for a beer or two.

I had a great time. It was the first time I’d navigated a large group of cyclists over such a long distance, and the first time I’d ridden so far with such a big group, and at night. I’d normally ride 250 miles on my own.

Thanks to all the guys I rode with who made it a very memorable trip, and to the support crew who were just there making things work.

Alicia and I decided to do this ride “together” with several stipulations. Since it was The Masher ride, we of course would wear The Masher jerseys, and ride on the same day, at approximately the same time. We also agreed to link to each others blogs, although I must admit that Alicia is a more eloquent writer than I am. Twenty-five miles, snapping photos every five miles, in all our matchy-matchy goodness. You have to admit, The Masher is pretty awesome in all its stripey wonder…

The Masher jersey

Of course, yesterday I found the perfect pin to go with this photo of me, but it’s a little late…

forget Victoria...

But I digress. I did not have matchy-matchy socks to accompany my jersey, so I improvised.

Sassy socks

I thought they added the proper amount of sassiness to complement my jersey, even if they did look dorky with my white road shoes. Fully kitted, I was ready to ride.

The Interurban Trail/ Harrington Beach loop

Because there was road construction on the road I normally ride, I decided to do my favorite easy ride instead. I was originally planning to do a challenging ride, but wimped out at the last minute, and rode the interurban trail instead. The trail is mostly flat, so I took a little detour to Harrington Beach, a lovely state park on Lake Michigan. There were a few hills, and plenty of good scenery to add some interest to my ride.

I started off from a parking lot in the next town over, so the beginning of my ride wasn’t very exciting:

Beginning of ride

The trail runs through farmland and is fairly open, and on a windy day the riding can be tough despite the flat terrain. I have ridden in winds that have nearly knocked me off the trail. This day was just slightly breezy, which was welcome due to the humidity. After a few miles, I left the trail, and rode on a deserted road toward the beach. My five mile stop overlooked a farmer’s field, as well as the interstate:

five miles...

Not terribly exciting, but it was very peaceful. The next five miles were more interesting, as they were on a road that I had never ridden. I stopped before five miles to take a photo of something Alicia probably didn’t see.

It's Wisconsin, you had to know there would be cows...

I made a short detour to the lake before I got to the state park, just because it was pretty, and there was a great hill to cruise down (and climb on the way back)

Lake Michigan

From here, I continued to the state park, which has a super-duper amazingly annoying road with seams every ten feet or so from concrete under the pavement. The ride down the road went ka-chunk, pedal some, ka-chunk, pedal a little more, ka-chunk, and so on. I felt like my teeth were going to be rattled out of my head! The ride through the woods was pretty, despite the miserable road

I was lazy when I got down to the parking lot. I didn’t even walk down to the beach, just made a quick loop and headed back up the bumpy road. I hit the ten mile mark on the way out of the park, in a really boring stretch, so I also took photos of the trees and sky at that point. It was a pretty day, after all!

Mile ten

From here it was back out to the trail, and north for a little while. Being the science geek that I am, I had to stop and check out this little guy:

Ah, nature. Even if it is just a toad!

I also tried to take a photo of a garter snake that was sunning itself in the middle of the trail, but by the time I got back to him, he slithered away.

Mile fifteen happened to fall at one of my favorite points along the trail. There is a wildlife preservation area that contains a wetland right along the trail, and I almost always see or hear interesting birds in the area.

Mile fifteen

As much as I enjoy riding the trail, at this point I was beginning to resent the road construction that prevented my from riding my usual route. The one positive note was that I was cruising along at a fairly good pace (for me. I believe I have already established that I am not particularly fast, and another post in the works will only reinforce that!). Mile twenty came up quickly, and this was the one stop I was quick to leave…

Mile twenty

It wasn’t the sound of the trucks, although they were loud. It wasn’t the smell of diesel, although I don’t care for that either. It was the fact that there is a sewage treatment area right after this factory. Blech. I always rush through this part of the ride.

Shortly after mile twenty, I was saved by an unknowing stranger. I was bored and thinking about what a dull write-up this would be. Until… a fellow cyclist came up behind me, said the usual courteous, “On your left,” and pulled up alongside me. He was friendly, and talked to me for a minute or so before pulling ahead of me. I decided that I was going to at least attempt to keep him in my sight for as long as possible. Awesome. I am nothing if not stubborn and determined.

There are occasional stops along the trail, where the trail crosses various roads. At the first one, he glanced from side to side to check traffic, and must have seen me out of the corner of his eye. I noticed his look of surprise, but we weren’t that far beyond where he had passed me, so he must have dismissed it as chance. I was not riding on his wheel, but I was only a few meters behind him. As we progressed through several more stops, I noticed that he glanced back a few times, because he couldn’t seem to lose me. After about four miles of this, he began to speed up, and I finally slowed down and let go of the chase. I didn’t take a picture at mile twenty-five because I was too busy keeping him in my sight.

So thank you to the unknowing stranger who helped me finish my ride in proper fashion. See, I was riding in high gear, at a relatively low cadence…

I ended my ride with a smile, thinking of Alicia riding in California, and looking forward to hearing about her ride. What’s a couple thousand miles between friends?

In a word this jersey is magniflorious.

Not too long ago I bought this super sweet Masher jersey from Twin Six.  Go ahead, take a second to bask in her beauty.  I know, it’s awesome.  Of course it is because Twin Six makes their jerseys out of polyester and unicorn eyelashes.  Now don’t go firing off angry PETA comments at me.  I don’t even know if unicorns have eyelashes.  But back to The Masher.

When Heidi over at Biology and Bicycles saw The Masher, its stripes mesmerized her and she ran out and bought one for herself.  Wherein, I mentioned that we should ride together in our new matchy-matchy goodness.  There was just one teensy problem with this idea.  A minor glitch, if you will.

Heidi lives in Wisconsin.  I live in California.

But what kind of people would we be if we let a mere 1700 miles get in the way of a good ride?

So we hatched a plan.  We’d each ride 25 miles on the same day, in our respective states snapping photos every 5 miles or so.  Then we’d share our rides.  So here’s the Masher Ride from sunny California.

The Mighty Sacramento

The Mighty Sacramento

I grew up riding this trail on my pink, one speed Schwinn, complete with flowered banana seat.  My family moved here just before my 8th birthday and our neighborhood backed up to the Sacramento River Trail.

Riding this trail always makes me a little nostalgic and earlier this year when the city opened a trailhead that’s a mere mile and a half from my house, I was ecstatic.  (There’s another trailhead equally close to my house, but it requires playing a game of Bike Frogger to get there.  Nothing like crossing a freeway overpass with a semi just inches away to make me appreciate life in new and profound ways.)  So on the day of The Masher Ride, I set off from my house and enjoyed the smooth bliss of the newly paved trail.

The Poet of Glass & Steel

courtesy of Chris Flentye

Within 3 miles of my ride, I crossed over the Sundial Bridge.  Allow me to hijack my own post for just a sec to give you a little history lesson on this beautiful bridge.  It was designed by Santiago Calatrava, a Spanish architect with an eye for artistry.  You may know him from projects like the World Trade Center Transportation Hub or the Peace Bridge in Calgary.  The fact that he came from his office in Zurich to build a bridge in my little town is amazing.  Kinda like saying Frank Lloyd Wright designed a church here, which is another stunningly wonderful fact about my hometown.  The Sundial bridge is 700 feet long, 217 feet tall and 23 feet wide and it’s suspended by cables, never touching the water so as to cause minimal disturbances to riparian animals.  I love this bridge.  I love it when it’s lit in pink for Breast Cancer awareness month.  I love it in the winter when my tires skittishly navigate its frosted pathway.  Calatrava has been called the “poet of glass and steel” and each time I cross the Sundial, I’m grateful he penned his vision in Redding.

The Kissing Bench

At mile 5 I paused for a moment at a bench to take in the river.  When I was a kid, I remember being totally nauseated by the teenagers that were inevitably playing kissyface here.  Luckily for The Rocket and I, it was mercifully empty the day of my ride.

Up, Up and Away

image courtesy of everytrail.com

After passing the bench, I rode across the beautiful and minimalistic Sacramento Trail Bridge.  Locals call it The Ribbon Bridge because it’s a stress ribbon bridge.  It was built in 1990 and was the first of its kind in North America.  It has 236 steel cables inside the bridge deck that are drilled into bedrock so it doesn’t touch the water and doesn’t disturb the water’s flow or the wildlife.  Compared to its sister bridge, The Sundial, The Ribbon Bridge isn’t nearly as famous.  People flock to The Sundial, aiming their cameras up at the sky to catch all of her towering beauty.  Nobody comes to the trail to have their picture take with The Ribbon.  She just quietly does her job.  Maybe that’s why I like her so much.

image courtesy of REU Power

A quick right turn had me pedaling past Keswick Dam, a steady producer of hydroelectric power.  Of the two Dams nearest my house, Keswick is the lesser known sister of Shasta Dam.  After Keswick Dam, the River Trail starts climbing.  It’s one of those long climbs where every corner reveals more climbing.  In fact, I rarely see anyone else going up this part of the trail unless I convince some poor friend to ride with me.  I’ve been known on occasion to invite friends under the guise of going on a ride with “a little bit of a climb”.  Hey, all’s fair in love and cycling.

Don't ya' just love self portrait shots? Yikes!

I hit the crest of the climbing part at mile 10.  Here I am, red-faced and a little too happy to be at the top.  Wouldn’t you know it, there wasn’t a soul on the trail and so I snapped the horrid self-portrait shot, which always gives me no less than nine chins.  I took half a dozen shots most of them including only a quadrant of my face.  I give up.  Moving on.

Here’s Keswick Reservoir.  Isn’t it pretty?  And more importantly, look how not red it is.  Ahem.

Keswick Reservoir

After the climb, I took a left and headed back toward the South side of The River Trail.  On the South side of the trail just beyond The Ribbon Bridge, I hit mile 15 where some creative person had spray painted the trail.

Just a little trail affirmation

I’ve written about this particular graffiti several times and each time I ride past it, I like it even more.  I wish I knew the story of who put it there and why they chose that particular message and those specific places to paint.  It’s got to be a great story, right?  Let me tell you, this tomato-faced girl loves hearing that I’m beautiful, even if it’s from the very pavement I’m rolling over.  I think it’s impossible not to ride over the words and smile just a little bigger.

The Monolith

The Monolith

A few miles later I crossed back over The Sundial and did a little loop by the river which brought me to The Monolith.  The Monolith is the site where gravel was processed for the building of Shasta Dam.  In this shot, you can see the rust colored high water mark.  In 1940 floodwaters rose to this height before the Dam was built.

A Cubic Yard of Concrete

A 9.5 mile conveyor belt hauled the gravel to the Dam site.  The Monolith closed in 1945, but in 2005 Seattle artist Buster Simpson turned it into a museum of sorts, telling the story of the workers and their role in the completion of the Dam.  This shot shows how much concrete was mixed to build the Dam.  Can you imagine enough concrete to lay a sidewalk encircling the world?  Now that would be a cool bike ride!

The Eagle Has Landed

After visiting the Monolith, I headed back toward the new trailhead.  The new trail passes between the highway and a quiet little inlet.  The inlet is surrounded by greenery where a pair of bald eagles have chosen to nest.  The couple returns every year to the same spot to lay their eggs.  The eagles are named Patriot and Liberty, and even though I’m terrified of birds, each time I pass by their nest, I can’t help but take a peek.  In fact in the Fall you can take a peek, too, when the eaglecam is up and running for another season.   Just look at the nest.  It’s so huge and beautiful that it sent shivers down my spine and made me pedal home just a little bit faster.

image courtesy of redding.com

Home Sweet Home

Mile 25 found me pulling into my driveway just as the heat of the day began to rise off the pavement.  I set my bike down in the lawn and unstrapped my helmet, amazed at how much beauty and history is just a short bike ride from my front door.  I unzipped my Masher jersey and smiled at the thought of Heidi riding her own 25 miles in Wisconsin.

I got a few rolls of filmed developed recently,
some pics are from a few weeks back, some are from mexico and some are from Pushies Galore.
more pics here

Lance Armstrong started off the ride by talking to us a little about LiveStrong.  The team Fatty mention and the idea of turning LiveStrong HQ into a pie shop made me smile.

The ride was on Terry’s birthday and the night before I’d decorated his number with birthday stickers so that during the ride Terry had to hear “Happy birthday!” over and over again.  Did I mention Terry hates it when people make any sort of deal about his birthday?

Then there was the guy who had a mohawk glued on his helmet.  I’d talked to him at several points during the ride, but the most memorable was when I ran into him at a water stop.  He noticed that my ‘good for one free beer’ tab was tearing off my ride number.  I told him it wasn’t a big deal because I don’t drink.  Without even hesitating he said “Well, you don’t have to beg me to take it!”  and ripped it off.  I thanked him for taking care of it for me.  He nodded his mohawk in my direction and sped off saying something like “I’m here to serve.”

After the ride I was gobbling down apple pie when Carlos, a hilarious Fatty from New York, told how he hung with the fast group until the hills where he was ejected like “peloton diarrhea”.  Bike humor and potty humor all wrapped up in a nice little package.  Comic genius.

Another bike sport heavy affair coming up this weekend. Good times ahead

Cost = $0! plus…what better way to start the kid’s school holidays than by enjoying the great outdoors.

The location I had chosen for this little adventure was the northern end of the Gold Coast.  With its rollercoaster hills, beautiful public parks (that more resemble mini theme parks than public spaces), and scattered water features including lakes, it was the perfect backdrop for our 3 hour cross-country adventure. You read right, I said 3 hours. I had no intention at the start of it taking us 3 hours, but by the time we checked out one park, then cruzed onto the next park, rode around the lake, stopped for a bite to eat and a drink, the time just got away from us.

Serious fun factor?? Oh YES! With massive smiles plastered across our faces like cartoon characters, we darted down the hills, played in the parks, and explored urban parks and streets we had never seen before.

Would we all do this adventure again…DEFINITLY!

Koggles Rating: 10! (out of 10)

100 Miles of Nowhere: On the first Thursday of summer vacation, I joined Team Fatty in the 100 Miles of Nowhere.  The idea of the 100 Miles of Nowhere is this: ride 100 miles on the shortest course you can come up with.  The registration fee went to LiveStrong, so it was an obvious yes for me.  Besides last year I took first place in the “32 Year Old Teacher/Writer Cycling In My Living Room In Redding” category last year.  How could I not come back for a second year?
I chose a relatively flat three-mile section of the river trail and I rode it out and back 17 times.  It was as much of an exercise in mental fortitude as it was in physical strength.  But that’s kind of the point because when I think of my loved ones who have battled cancer, without exception they have all had mental strength in quantities I can only dream of.

So early that morning I set out in the good company of That Laura and our friend Mike.  I’m a pretty lucky girl to have friends who will do these crazy things with me.  The first few laps were boring, so boring that I wondered if I was going to make it.  Then I popped in a book I’d downloaded and I’m telling you, I think that’s the secret of riding long distances.  The miles flew by and I was happy as a clam.

Until I crashed.  Wait, can you call it a crash if you just sort of fell over?  Probably not.  Anyway, I was having a great time until I fell over.  About 65 miles in, I was making the turn around on the out and back and turned too tightly and didn’t clip out of my pedals in time.  I turtled myself and was relieved to see that nobody was around to see my graceful move.  I hopped back up with a bruised tush and a slightly more bruised ego and finished up the ride.  And wouldn’t you know it, I took center podium in the “33 Year Old Teacher Who Only Fell Over Once” category.

20 Donors With a month left until my big ride, I’d like to say thanks to Adam & Suzy C., Anita J., Betty C., Chris F., Christine W., Heather F., Janice L., John P., Joy G., Kathy V., Katie L., Kelly B., Krystle J., Laura G., Lynn J., Marie P., Nick W., Sue H., and Tracy H. for donating to the LiveStrong Foundation on my behalf.  You’ve donated $660 on my behalf and I’m touched by your generosity.  Take this message that was painted on the River Trail to heart because you’ve done a beautiful thing this year by donating to LiveStrong.

$340 to Reach My Goal  If you’d like to make a donation on my behalf to help fund cancer research and treatment, please click here.  There are only 8 more days until my big ride in Davis, so if you’ve been waiting to donate, now’s the time.  It’s my honor to ride in support of and in memory of your loved ones.

I look forward to telling you all about my big ride later this month!

Fondly,

Alicia