commuterDude

May 200k in the books, June makes 12!

2012-05-21T13:58:00.001-05:00

Friday, May 18th... a day that made the 400km from April look EASY.

Full post to come, quicker this time - but, it's a finish, and checks off May as "number 11" towards R-12 #2....

ONE TO GO! Stay tuned...

Plus, with classes finally wrapped up, time to get into a steady commuting routine again - if only for a few weeks before I leave town for Race Across AMerica, that is.

So, so much more to come...

The April 2012 400k Report - Open Road Adventures!

2012-05-17T16:43:00.000-05:00

The April 28th 400km ride loomed as my longest ride in years. I hadn’t ventured beyond 300km since 2010, and hadn’t visited Iowa since 2009. Sure, sure - my recent steady diet of 200 kilometer rides would help things - not as if I’d been sitting around doing nothing by commutes, after all, so I entered into the event without much trepidation. The forecast looked good, even the winds hadn’t looked terribly awful for once, and I’d actually achieved a decent night’s sleep the evening before. This was a big one in a lot of ways: I looked forward to accomplishing my goal for the day of not being alone (riding with people is far more enjoyable than riding solo), I looked forward to just eating “whatever” at the controls (now back to (and liberated by) my Carboplex fueling strategy), and looked forward to checking off #10 towards R-12... with only a couple days to spare in April.

Thank goodness, the Perkins in Liberty has finally come to its senses. Twenty-four hours of operation on the weekends, for a couple years now, meant that I could get a quick bite before the ride and look forward to a hot meal afterwards - something I missed by a scant 30 minutes on the last Liberty-to-Iowa 400k in ‘09. Little else on this earth feels quite as nice as a soft restaurant booth, nor tastes quite as good as a hot breakfast platter, after a full day’s riding. No matter the hour, my reward for the day would be waiting.

While the atmosphere changes constantly with the clientele, when I walk into our Perkin’s before a ride I feel like I’m walking into a bar full of old friends. All familiar faces - some I’ve ridden with briefly, some I’ve ridden with for days in total - all sit, conversing, eating, signing forms and waivers and filling out checks for the entry fees. Bob collects them all, while passing out maps, cue sheets, brevet cards, all packaged in zip-top baggies. Though we only take up a small section of the restaurant, our busy and vibrant sea of neon safety yellows and oranges, set against colorful jerseys from far-away lands and rides, transforms this hum-drum eatery into a bustling hub of cycling energy. Rod, Jeff, Alex, Danny, Spencer, Jack, Ralph, Don, Karen, Ron, Glen, Billy (I’m getting better at this name recognition thing, eh?)... and several more whom I forget, sadly. For a 400k, a great group. Soon, plates cleared and checks paid, we all headed outside to ready our bicycles for the task ahead.

Compared to the rest of the group, it appeared I’d get the award for having packed the lightest. I repurposed a shoe bag (which had been included with an old Specialized shoe purchase) as my rear rack trunk. Spare summer gloves for later when it would warm up, and a lighter head cover inside, and the whole thing rolled up like a burrito and lashed to the rear rack with toe straps. It works - but, I’ve been kicking around either a larger seat bag, or something purpose-built for the rear rack -- yet, most trunks and saddlebags prove too large... and someone once spoke truth when they observed that “the only problem with a large bag is the desire to fill it.” I have this problem... so I need to constantly check myself - do I REALLY need it on this ride? I’ve long-since matured to a seatbag kit which remains compact, yet allows the repair of nearly everything reasonably field serviceable. Compare this to once-upon-a-time when I’d packed a spare cassette for a 600k, among myriad other things I should have left at home. The only reason I’m considering a more traditional bag involves speed at the controls. Where most folks can stop, unzip a bag, find what they need, zip it back up and get moving again, I have to undo two toe straps (the loose ends of which are usually woven in and out of each other to keep the long, extra strap length out of the spokes while riding), unroll the bag, fish around (or deposit a discarded layer, depending), re-roll the burrito, and redo the straps onto the rack again. As a result, when added to the rest of the usual brevet control routine, I’d consistently be the last one ready to roll out on this ride, despite feeling like I’d rushed. Even a homebrew zippered pouch would shave off a minute or two of fumbling with my effective and minimalist - yet clumsy - current system. Someone up in Alaska actually made a custom rack trunk specifically for the Tubus Fly rack I’m running, but they’ve since hung up their operation. If anyone knows someone that makes a small trunk bag, 11”x4”x5”, with a simple, single compartment, let me know.

Though sometimes I’m not as good at it as I could/should be, being able to move around and chat with different folks in the group during the first hour of the ride represents the best part of randonneuring. As we made our way out of downtown Liberty and onto the twisty expanse of county route H, conversation ebbed and flowed throughout the constantly changing group. Groups formed, fell apart, changed, re-formed as the miles passed. As the sun came up, the usual distances between groups began to grow and everyone started to fall into their respective paces, not helped much by poorly timed traffic light encounters and varied hill-climbing skills as we skirted north of Excelsior Springs, MO. After a quick detour around some road construction -- okay, through it -- we were free to roll north, into a slight headwind, for the long run up to the first control, 72 miles away.

Before the first control, however, is Cameron, MO., and the Burger King I remember having stopped at on the ‘09 ride. After riding for a while with Karen and Glen, our individual paces began to show, finding me alone after about 30 miles of riding. The faster group of Jeff, Alex and (a third rider) were well out of sight, and the trailing group with Danny and Spencer were equally out of sight behind me. Suspended between packs, I started to wonder if this would be another repeat of 2009...and, so, to honor that notion, I stopped for breakfast at the BK. Always a treat - and as I’d nearly finished my mini-control routine and began to stuff the last bite of egg and cheese into my maw, Spencer, Danny, Rod G. and Ron pulled in. I hadn’t really assumed they’d stop here, and I’d begun preparing myself to ride alone for a while - but, I was happy to see them, and slowed my rush to get back on the bike again. Riding with a group is far more enjoyable than riding alone... did I already say that?

For the mental game of “checking off turns”, this route exists as especially challenging. At one particular point, one rides 30 miles before a turn comes - and even then, the turn is more of a natural curve in the road. Most of this lies between Cameron and Pattonsburg, where the route stretches ahead of the rider, seemingly, forever. Sometimes I like that, other times I don’t. This time out, however, staying with the group helped ease things along nicely. When the headwind grew to its peak, I sat alongside Jack R. and chatted for perhaps an hour, maybe more, as we both tackled the wind on the way to the first control. The conversation helped take the mental edge off the slow pace and buffeting wind, proving again that riding with a group is far more …... ok, you get the idea!

Finally, we arrived at the control. With my control clumsiness, I felt a bit like a fifth-wheel sometimes -- no fault of anyone else in the group -- but, my routine has been largely formed on solo rides with no reference points. I did my best to stay focused, organized, and purposeful while stopped. At Pattonsburg, everyone managed to have a good sit-down, and I had plenty of time to take care of business - which involved preparing a bottle with Carboplex, consuming a giant cherry and cream cheese danish, and updating my position with a text message to social media. Despite this, the biggest hiccup remained with the toe-strap burrito-bag rack situation. At that point, the sun had risen higher and the temperatures with it, warranting some layer removal. Since my back pockets were still full of Carboplex baggies and other on-road rations, the only place to stash clothing remained the most annoying and time consuming. After an otherwise brilliant control, I ended up the last one from the parking lot by perhaps 2 minutes, while the rest of the group advanced up the road. Motivated to not repeat my 2009 solo adventure, I finally saddled up, made a sprint of it and caught back on.

Happily back with the group, the smells of spring charged into our noses by an ever-increasing headwind, we six paddled upstream, northbound, on the majestically quiet expanse of US-69 highway. An interesting example of how the Eisenhower Interstate plan selectively managed to kill off a lot of small-town America in lieu of a national “oh crap” military conduit system, US-69 still sits relatively close to the interstate which replaced it, and as a result nearly all traffic, even a large majority of local traffic, uses the faster I-35 route, which keeps US-69 very quiet, and perfect for cycling. An interesting side-note, I find it frustrating that as America builds and advances and wishes to go ever faster, even the old US-highway system has begun to bypass itself of late. Looking at a map of eastern Kansas represents a prime example, especially with two derivatives of the same “corridor 69” network, US-69 and 169. Towns like Pleasanton, Trading Post, Humboldt, Welda, will all probably be just fine in the grander scheme of things, but they have been bypassed again in the last decade by improvements to the Federal highways which used to run right through their hearts, due to the demand of highway users and commercial interests to enjoy Interstate-like speed and efficiency. Contrast to northern Missouri where the two systems serve the same towns almost equally, leaving the US highway usable by car and bicycle alike, the Kansas system leaves the old highway network splintered and broken, leaving cyclists almost zero paved options between small towns. Certainly inevitable, it is no less saddening to see such good bicycling touring routes over-layed and cut off by 70 MPH, non-Interstate super-expressways. Bicycle-legal, sure... but enjoyable? Hardly. Northern Missouri... at least with regards to my experience on US-69 north of Pattonsburg... is quite a pleasure.

Bethany, Eagleville, Lamoni, IA. all came in quick succession, as we all took turns pulling for a couple miles at a stretch (except for Danny (hahahah!). Finally, we made the Casey’s at Lamoni, IA., the last control before the halfway point, still a few miles north and east from there. We’d caught up to Alex and Jeff, the “fast bunch” -- Alex getting ready for RAAM and Jeff just being fast in general -- on their way back from the halfway, about an hour ahead of us - which, really, was fine by me. I knew for sure that I’d enjoyed a nice breakfast break at Cameron, and the six-pack (as I had started dubbing our collective group) would stop again at Lamoni on the return for a sit-down lunch at Subway. I wasn’t so sure if Alex and Jeff were enjoying the same “tourists” approach to the day, so only being an hour down hit me as good news for our groups’ pacing. Alex and Jeff would, however, ultimately finish a remarkable 3 hours and 45 minutes ahead of us, proving their determination and strength at distance. I’d argue that our group had a better time - but, hey, who’s to say? Fast, sometimes, is fun, too. Easy for me to say...

The road from Lamoni (past I-35) to Davis City, IA. is amazing -- hilly, scenic vistas over every rise, gorgeous expanses of green in all directions, and picturesque farmscapes and majestic barns dotting the horizon, with little roadside stops selling Amish treats in certain places, and extremely well-made Amish furniture in others. We shared the road with a couple horse-drawn carriages here and there, too - terrific country up there. Making quick work of the post-card drop at the turn-around control, we turned our bicycles south and west, finally able to enjoy a tailwind!

After our lunch at Subway, we made our way through the rest of Lamoni, and headed south to begin the last half of the 252-mile journey. The weather was simply stunning -- warm, but not too hot, lots of sunshine, and birds of all types in song. I blundered a little at the control in Lamoni on the return, however, forgetting to fill up my water bottles. Thankfully I realized this before reaching the “bail-out” c-store at US-69 and I-35, right near the Iowa/Missouri border. I pulled in for a lightning-quick top-off, and was back with the group again after another sprint-catchup maneuver. Whew... glad I’d looked down, as I would have been out of water well before Eagleville - a town with no services.

The day marched onward. We’d made decent time on the way up, reaching the halfway point perhaps an hour before I’d calculated we should have. Full of strong riders, we’d made good time against the wind, and the new tailwind would only serve to add time into the bank, not that we’d been in a terrible hurry. We made Bethany in good time, made another quick stop - each of us preparing for the setting sun. Music players came out, layers, reflective gear, and food and drink were consumed for the leg back to Pattonsburg.

Quick sidebar on music players. I’m a recent, reluctant convert here. For the longest time I’ve held the strong belief that earphones and cycling don’t (and shouldn’t) mix. I believe in the context of commuting this combination can be dangerous, so I’ve always abstained, keeping both ears open and my senses available for traffic - subtle changes in tire pitch, cars approaching from odd angles from parking lots or side streets, faster cyclists passing me on the trail, similar. Naturally, I took this belief into randonneuring as well. As alluded to in previous, recent posts, however, I’ve been changing my opinion. A very large part of randonnuering remains, indeed, mental. While I still struggle with the notion that I am somehow recently taking the “easy path” by using a technique to occupy the mind and prevent fatigue onset, I can’t dispute the success of the last 70 miles of this ride for me, personally. It’s impossible to tell if it had been the music making the difference, or, that I was simply on-form; but, having a steady stream of familiar music fed to my brain seemed to have a compression effect on the long expanses of highway, especially after dark. Note however - and this is vitally important - this music was delivered at a ridiculously low volume, and through only one ear. I wasn’t alone, and it was notable that everyone had taken the same approach of keeping our traffic ears open and free, either through a specific stereo-to-mono earphone, or by simply taking the wire snips to the left earbud on a traditional headset. I didn’t see anyone riding with both earbuds in. This, combined with the low volume, revealed in many cases the music to be merely a suggestion, the audible gaps often filled with wind noise or conversation with the rider next to me. The part of my brain which would normally begin wondering about saddle pain, knee position, miles remaining, time of day, time ridden so-far, remained firmly occupied “singing along” with the “suggestions” being delivered through the right earbud. As a result, many sections of road which I remember being nearly unbearable during the 2009 edition simply whizzed past this time without much thought. Again.... better training, more familiar with the route, more familiar with myself?? Lots of variables... but, the music certainly helped guarantee my finish, and my good mood. Considering I was still easily able to pinpoint approaching cars from any direction, and was still able to hold conversations with those around me without pausing the tunes, I think it worked well. In fact, it worked SO well, that on several occasions while stopped, I’d forgotten to pause the player - thinking momentarily in each case that the c-store or restaurant happened to be playing a song I really liked over their PA, or that a song was simply stuck in my head - finally realizing that I still had the music playing. Will I do it on commutes? No. That’s just me, though. For my commute routine, it just adds complexity to a pretty short ride. For rides longer than 200k, however, this trick remains on my personal menu going forward - and I’ll probably still only use it in the last half of any ride. Approaching cities and higher traffic volumes, however, it’s easy enough to pull the earbud out and let it dangle until I’m back on low-traffic roads again. Results will vary. Everyone is different - and, for some reason, while my hearing has dulled in certain frequencies (most annoyingly for me, right on some people’s speaking timbre) it remains one of my sharper senses with regard to pattern changes. For some reason, I can sense “car back” before some people with helmet-mounted mirrors can announce it. So, I’ve always been super-hesitant to hamper my hearing on the bike.

Back on the ride, we slowly approached the final control before the finish -- though, it would be no major amount of relief. At that control, after all, there still remained 72 miles to the finish. The sky began to dim a little in the final few miles before Pattonsburg finally came into view - but not due to the sun set. Sunshine fell out of view, and clouds began to dominate the skies overhead as a few rain drops colored the roadway. Mmmmm, awesome. I hadn’t ridden a brevet or permanent in the rain in … ok, nevermind. I guess I’d completely blocked out the March ride there for a second! So be it... no sense panicking, with wool in tow for this perfect-for-wool day, I didn’t give a second thought to my last-minute decision to leave the rain jacket behind in the van, hours prior. The rain picked up and continued for probably 20 minutes before we arrived at the Pattonsburg control, where we checked in, made some adjustments, ate some food, checked the radar, and headed out again quickly.

Still firmly partnered-up with the group, the rest of the ride would begin to slip into darkness over the next section, the sun finally slipping out of sight - yet, we were making great time, overall. The tailwind, though diminished slightly, still highly preferred over the alternative, helped us along nicely as I chatted with Danny and Karen. Otherwise, as tends to happen when the sun drops after a long day on the road, quiet fell over the group in longer intervals. Each of us would drop into our own thoughts, and then someone would blurt something out loud, starting it up again for a short time. After hitting Winston and “surviving” the overlay of US-69 and MO State Route 6 (the busiest part, traffic wise, of the entire ride), Danny and I paired up for a bit and chatted over a few dozen miles on the last leg into Cameron, MO. - and a planned stop at Burger King.

This was a nice, relaxed stop --- but, not for the reasons we’d have liked. Staffing was low, and service was tedious... but, eventually, we all had a hot meal in our stomachs, and - though longer than most would prefer - a nice sit-down rest. Pleasing to all, especially to me, was the time: personally, on the 2009 ride, I didn’t make Cameron until nearly 11pm - and now, with hot food coming, it was only a bit after 9pm! Bonus! (Last time out, the Burger King had closed by the time we rolled into town.) Food in, well rested and indoors for a short time - all good things. We each wrapped up the remaining steps in our re-mounting routines, bottles filled, bladders emptied - just a little bit after Jack and Billy, who had been just out of reach for the last couple of stops, pulled in to get a meal of their own. I still felt a little odd leaving them there, again, just the two of them - but, they insisted they were doing ok, and so our potential group of eight would remain a group of six for the finish - only 45 miles distant.

With Cameron behind us, we each knew about what time we’d finish - and I started to look forward to my hot meal at the Perkins back in Liberty. We pressed on, over some perfect pavement (I don’t remember the road being quite so nice back in ‘09, but maybe that’s just representative of my frame of mind at that point in the ride, back then). The group generally stayed together, sometimes stretching apart, sometimes coming nicely back together. Another milestone down, we crossed MO-116, along the same parallel as Plattsburg, MO. - which told me we had at least under 30 miles left. A good sign... until a bright flash lit up the sky. A few expletives rumbled through the group, mimicking the distant thunder that followed. Uh oh. Still, it could have been far worse - all the forecasts promised the storms (which were to have held off until after 1am, but whatever) would remain below severe limits, so fears were minimal. After a few rain droplets began to fall, Lawson, MO. came into view - and the overhangs of a closed gas station. We stopped, regrouped, and took another look at the radar for good measure - as rain jackets, stowed after the brief shower near Pattonsburg had ended, came back out again.

As we headed out into the shower, after a brief rest and consideration, I must restate the continued love-affair I maintain with fenders and light wool gear. No rain jacket... and, any colder, I might have been wishing for it, yes … but, I remained comfortable and happy throughout the last 25 or so, wet miles into Liberty. The storm stayed calm - there was some lightning, but no nearby strikes - and everyone remained upright and safe, with the typical randonneur overkill reflective vests and strong taillights. My thoughts turned, a couple times, back to those that were farther back on the road, and what laid ahead for them - but, it was nice to finish. At about 1:25 or so, we rolled up into the Perkin’s parking lot, and quickly headed inside to a warm booth. Menus, hot chocolate, food.... a great way to wrap up a ride. Honestly - the worst part of the ride was the drive home afterwards - where the heaviest of storms collided with my departure... I should have stayed for a longer meal at Perkins, and a nap! Emails came through the following day, however, and we learned of the safe passage of all riders eventually making it back to Perkins - some wetter than others. All in all - a terrific, terrific 400km brevet.

What can I say in reflection? The training, the string of 200ks, all seemed to work out nicely -- sadly, I’ve let enough time pass in posting this report, that any memory of bad things, things to change or adjust, have faded. Even pausing to think, I can’t come away with anything but positive thoughts for this one - my longest ride in 3 years, coming away without any remarkable soreness. (knocking on wood) --- that’s a great feeling.

Stay tuned for the next one --- which will come very, very soon.

Thanks for reading!

Bike Week 2012!

2012-05-10T09:39:00.001-05:00

It's that time of year again, peeps: Bike Week!

Annually, Bike to work Week challenges people to hang up the car keys and grab their bicycles to get around.

Errands, commutes to work, integration with the bus system - all encouraged!

Find out more at the links below...

http://www.opkansas.org/Events/Bike-to-Work-Week

http://bikeweek.bikewalkkc.org/

Hope to see you on the streets and trails next week... and beyond!

Hanging in there

2012-05-08T08:46:00.001-05:00

Time flies... it's been just over a week since the 400km wrapped, and about a week since I started falling ill again. Typical for springtime, my system is awash with nasties thanks to blossoming flowers and grass pollen. This last episode has been especially aggressive, so it's not been the best time. Not sure if the ride itself kicked anything off or not, but the weakening one's immune system can take after hours and hours on the bike, as a coincidence, likely didn't help things.

In addition, finishing up the spring semester of school with a lot of writing, and a final exam next week with even more writing, has me hesitant to get behind the keyboard for the blog... like I need to save the creative juices for items with a GPA attached, if that makes sense. So, I am just checking-in -- the 400km post will come.

The weather is shaping up perfectly, however, for commutes and errands... so, when I'm finally on the mend, I hope to get back into a good routine on the bike.

Going to be a nice summer!

400km = success!

2012-04-30T12:06:00.001-05:00

Checked off #10 of my current R-12 run with a 400km ride this last weekend, and feeling good - somehow...

I credit the higher protein diet (*NOT* to be confused with a low-carb diet!!!) for outstanding recovery that has allowed me get back on the bike quickly this week, along with making yesterday's yard work not such a horrid chore. In the past, this distance would put me firmly on the couch for at least the next day. Yeah, I did rest and catch a few cat-naps yesterday - which helped after being awake for 25 hours by the time I got home, unpacked, showered and in bed early Sunday morning - but I wasn't totally destroyed.

Full blog post coming... I'm engaging my inner editor, so I don't (there exist pros and cons both ways) leave you with 10,000 words of filler.

What can I say now, though... it was a terrific ride, with good companions. Made some new friends along the way, and reconnected with ones I hadn't ridden with in years.

I need to make a solid point to attend at least one of Bob's brevets every year -- the companionship of a group distance ride is just too good to pass up, after so many solo rides. I'm talking commutes, too --- my solo:group ride ratio is WAY off-kilter, and when I think of this weekend, the last DSR, the February 200k, the January 200k, the New Year's eve ride to the Cider Mill... they are just miles ahead of the results of riding in solitude. So, more advertisement of permanents, and more club rides, I think, are in order.

That's all for the moment --- lots to digest this week, but, the post will come.

Thanks for reading!

It's now, or not -- and, news

2012-04-27T12:43:00.001-05:00

This time tomorrow I'll be far north of town, hopefully checking in for lunch somewhere around Pattonsburg, MO... maybe even farther north. But, yes - as the title suggests, at least as it relates to my current R-12 run, it's now, or it's time to lay down my chips. No chance of the latter occurring: tomorrow's 400 kilometer brevet up into Iowa and back from north of Kansas City will satisfy my April requirement nicely. I have a small amount of trepidation saved for the fact that I haven't ridden longer than 217km since the 2010 season, and haven't ridden 400km since 2009, but hey... gotta start sometime. I can recover when it's over. It will be interesting, however, to visit that frontier once again, which typifies randonneuring at longer distances: the sun goes down, the stomach begs for more, and the legs ask "uhhh, we're supposed to stop, right?"

So, wish me luck -- should be a nice day! Semi-epic ride report will likely follow, as usual.

In other news, a big announcement from the 'Dude Camp: I've been invited to fill, and have accepted, a crew position for a Race Across AMerica (RAAM) rider! If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, this is a goal I've been looking to accomplish for a while, and it feels good to have been asked. It's one of those things, I think anyone can go to the RAAM Facebook page, or their main website, and try to actively get onto a team -- but (the last few years in particular) the timing hasn't been right until now.

I'll be crewing for local ultra-rider Alex Shnyra, and his rider number is #430. He's racing in the solo division, so it's 3,000 miles, from Oceanside, CA. to Annapolis, MD., non-stop. We've ridden together several times in the past, I know his style and tactics, plus, we already talk on a regular basis, so it represents a great fit - and I'm humbled by the amount of faith he places in my abilities. I, and the rest of the team, will be learning a lot over about 10 days of racing, starting June 13th, 2012.

So, please keep en eye out -- I'll likely have more information on that subject in these pages before long, and will *TRY* to update from the road to some extent... though, I have a feeling those opportunities might be few and far between. The real source will be the RAAM pages, the video updates, live race coverage, blogs, and tickers... their media set-up is extensive, so I'll wave at the camera if I get a chance. It's going to be an interesting time... to be sure!

Checking in for April

2012-04-13T18:46:00.001-05:00

April is half over in a few days... yikes.... and still no R-12 ride for this month. Yet.

Today was to have been my day, attempting the 300km "Hell of the North" permanent from Liberty, MO. to Albany, MO. and back.

Hills, rough roads... and my wind chimes haven't quieted down since this morning, clanging still in the southern winds which haunt that already difficult route up north.

Thanks to my alarm clock/phone freaking out sometime in the night, however, I didn't make the bell -- slept like a log instead, until the wife shook me awake at 5:30am asking why I was still in the house. Even with the generous hour buffer at the front of every permanent ride, I had only 30 minutes at that point to start a ride that was a 45 minute drive away. Ugh.

I felt sick... but, eventually forgave myself. And started shopping for a proper alarm clock.

Still, perhaps it's better this way. After a sorta rough March 200k, I wasn't really in the mood for the thunderstorms that were ravaging the northland when I checked radar, nor the stiff headwind that would surely punish for 90-some miles on the trip southbound after reaching Albany via 12,000 ft. or whatever of climbing. The sun came out eventually, though, and I got more of a tame, stress-release style training ride on a local rail-trail. Though the 52 miles I logged pales in comparison to what coulda-been, I averaged well and felt strong throughout - so, that's a plus. Wrapped up the ride with a conversation with another cyclist packing up after his outing on the same trail - so, I wasn't alone thinking today was a good day for this.

So, R-12... still half a month left, and the big 400km brevet up into Iowa on the 28th. That's cutting it close... but, it'll have to be the one. I can't see flushing this after 9 straight.... no way. Not even a thought. Sometimes things don't work out... but, on a tough route, with stiff winds, and on this particularly "lucky" day, perhaps there is an unknown blessing hiding underneath my personal disappointment. I'll never know ... and that could be a good thing. Win some... miss some...

Stay tuned.

Very spur of the moment

2012-04-02T12:29:00.001-05:00

It's April, and that means it's time for 30 Days of Biking!

I actually signed up this year, and I hope to get at least a couple miles every day.

There are schedule challenges with school/work/kids, and geography vs. time makes things tight for the bike.... alas, even if it means getting home at o'dark-thirty, tired from a long day, I still plan to get at least 30 minutes of riding, even if it's a quick errand. That's the whole thing: 30 days of Biking... just don't miss a day in April! While there will be a good dose of short rides, I also have 300 and 400km rides scheduled this month... so, it will be a little strange.

Stay tuned!

I also at least plan on a FB post-per-day, too... to keep track.

To those registered, and already enjoying day-two -- good luck!

DSR, Decade, and Life-lessons

2012-03-27T11:29:00.001-05:00

Sometimes timing is unfortunate -- but, "it is what it is". We learn, in the wake of those who lived a full and gracious life, how to roll with the punches.

It wasn't heavy snow or a ridiculous work schedule that prevented my attendance at this past weekend's KCUC season opener and 200km brevet, but an unfortunate passing in our family. This isn't a grab for condolences or anything like that, nor is it the typical need for social justification on why I can make certain rides and not others -- just a mention, and a marker in time for my future reference. My wife's grandma, however, will indeed be missed.

Similar to the passing of my father several years ago now, the last year of her life was especially challenging, and, realizing that teaches me once again to be mindful about that which I choose to complain. Gracious under pressure, quiet dignity, a smile, and a "just fine" when asked how things had been going, regardless of the truth. Positiveness begets positiveness, and may we all find a reason to smile in spite of life's little pains and problems.

Headwinds.

Rain.

Hills.

All trifles.

Truly the simple blessing of taking in a breath-full of fresh, morning air - each day until our last - is gift enough, and the rest just icing.

With such expectations perhaps enjoying life itself, for "what it is", becomes easier, its challenges less arduous.

Sure - with the purported "best weather in five years" for KCUC's first ride, it was a shame to have missed it; however, sitting in an armchair among family and friends, talking about nothing in particular, over good food - even in spite of the occasion for the gathering - always turns out to be a fine way to spend a weekend. The bike seldom entered my mind - and I think that means I've got things figured out. Surely as the bicycle hangs upside-down, in waiting, in the garage at home - I can grab a ride any old time. The times with family are precious - and life, all too often, shorter than we'd prefer.

As I pass into my 4th decade, perhaps I'll have less and less to complain about.

Perhaps I'm finally finding it far more rewarding to simply enjoy the ride, no matter the vehicle.

It's been a remarkable month -

The first DSR was an intimate affair, and, with technology and good discussion in tow, we enjoyed clear skies, bright Venus and Jupiter setting, and the challenges of riding the last few miles on completely empty stomachs, thanks to a c-store which wrapped up business earlier than their operating hours sign had otherwise suggested.

The tenth anniversary of my first brevet was to be a compare/contrast exercise - what have I learned in ten-years of randonneuring?

I'm personally still waiting on the answer; though I know it to be strictly rhetorical. My journey has been complicated and contrived, and with each passing year I find myself chuckling, not only at what I had yet to learn 10 years back, but also what I'd elected to re-learn only a few weeks ago. My memoirs will be clogged with self-confusion and the fallout of a far-to-noisy inner monologue, which I've yet to figure out quite how to silence. It's easier than it used to be, though, which is progress, as I slide ever closer to the Zen-state of "just pedaling". My cycling career is a comedy of errors, perhaps best related via the dry, sardonic wit of British humour. Perhaps Rowan Atkinson would be up for the role of "Dude" in the film of my cycling career, who knows. Perhaps I watch too much Top Gear (UK), but I find the commentary from my rides much more entertaining when read aloud in my head via carefully metered exchanges between Jeremy Clarkson, Phil Liggett, James May, Paul Sherwen, and Richard Hammond, all while run through a template of Monty Python skits.

Some say he can spot equipment mislignments on a millimetric scale from twenty paces, and that he thinks every hilltop during a brevet has leader's points... all we know is.... he's not the Stig... but he *is* the Stig's American randonneuring cousin....

All in all, it's been an interesting month - the R-12 streak continues, though it feels as if the last ride was months ago.

April looks good, and my next permanent ride towards R-12 (despite the minimum requirement being 200km) may be a 300k, to prepare for highly anticipated 400km Brevet up into Iowa on April 28th.

Despite the cycling-centric crux of this blog, the lessons resonating from what transpires *off* the saddle remain most engaging. Therein sits the most important lesson of all; it really *isn't* about the bike. Though I've never professed my cycling to be more important than any other aspect of my life, surely as it's not, sometimes I leave such an impression hanging in these pages. Certainly in the office and to the readership at large I come across quite one-dimensional. What's most important, and I think Grandma, and definitely my father, would've agreed: at the end of whatever our day brings, when things are stored away, the time-clock punched, it's those moments around the family dinner table which make it all worthwhile.

Its not about what you do... its about who you share it with.

The only thing cycling REALLY does?

It helps transform me into a better person while I'm off the bike, where it counts.

The Big Payback

2012-03-04T17:12:00.001-06:00

“Did you have a good ride?” asked the middle-aged gentleman re-entering his car. He seemed genuinely interested, curious... maybe even a glimmer of a knowing smile, like he, too, could have been a cyclist.

I paused... but I knew my answer already.

Similar to last month, I had a mind to get March's 200k R-12 edition checked-off ASAP. Thinking back to 2009, fresh from R-12 #1, I’d been keen to continue my streak; that year I rode a particularly difficult and lengthy "200k" (more like 225?) in February, and nearly vowed never to ride again afterwards - alas, those feelings come and go, but always pass. I'd decided the best way to make good on that hard-earned Feb '09 200k involved keeping the streak going, and getting #14 that March. "March 27...Bob's brevet series... that's in the bag." Oh, how wrong I’d been that year - March 27th, 2009, I believe we awoke to 8+ inches of thick snow, which wouldn’t melt for possibly a week afterwards. A rare occurrence, Bob cancelled the March 200k that year, and I didn't have enough time left in the month to make anything work to make up for it --- so 13-in-a-row ended there. Fast-forward to this year, I look to avoid that scenario again - this time not merely faced with starting over so much as faced with flushing 9-in-a-row in progress on R-12 #2. The winter season has been strange enough without me tempting fate, and, with Bob's ride sitting on March 24th this year, it would be good of me to get cracking. So, several weeks back, I scheduled my March 200k for the 2nd. Seemed like a terrific idea at the time. Why, oh why, didn't I make it for March *1st*?

To paraphrase a recurring, and oft telling, theme from one of my favorite shows; in the immortal words of the ancient philosopher Clarksonius, 5th Century B.C., "how hard can it be?"

After all, it's March!
Sound the trumpet call, release the doves, let sash and cottage door swing open, and breathe free all ye cyclists - cast off the shackles of natures icy, grey grip! (okay, a bit much)
February holds all of the mental cards when it comes to my cycling, yet, this year's leap-month had been very tolerable. The February 200k, only a few posts back from here, warmed into the lower 60's by afternoon - with a south wind! March had to be at least that good. Kansas weather can be a bit tricky, at best, however - in the 72 hours leading up to the ride, I’d witnessed 73ºF, then the lower 30’s, thunderstorms, tornado warnings only one county west of home, and strong wind from every compass direction.

Finally, the evening before, I packed for rain. Specifically, rain in the 40ºF range, which calls for wool and the rain jacket. Anything warmer than that and the rain jacket becomes too much. Heck, pack it anyways... pack it ALL. The battle van readied: bike loaded, bags packed, nutrition, cue sheet, route card. I bedded down for a nervous, fitful sleep - typical of ride-eve, for me.

Beep beep! Beep beep! [smack]

Shower, dress, keys -- proceed to ride start. I've reached a point of complacency in preparing for and riding these 200 kilometer events. I'd mentioned in past posts that these distances have quickly become "training", instead of the "event" for which to train. In a few weeks I'll be stretching out towards 400km and beyond, so I need to get into a rhythm and routine that will work, consistently. The problem with that approach, at least for me; ‘routine’ becomes boring. I have this problem with diets, exercise, work, nearly everything. Things get old, and I become compelled to change something. Oh, how I wished I'd had the willpower to take back the change I made on the way to the ride.

Danny Clinkenbeard exemplifies randonneuring legend, in my humble opinion. In 2005 Danny, along with only four other individuals nationwide, finished all four continental-U.S.-hosted 1,200km (750+ miles) grand brevets offered that year. Few cyclists with a RUSA membership would consider trying ONE, much less two or more. Adding to his accolades, Danny C remains one of two riders - and only two (the other being Spencer K) - to have completed the longest RUSA permanent ride on the books; the monstrous 3,100km "Pony Express" permanent from Sacramento, CA., to St. Joseph, MO. Near as makes no difference, that ride strings together consecutive 200km rides, daily, going on two weeks solid. Finally, and to your author ultimately fascinating, Danny rides on hardly anything other than fast food - specifically McDonald's. Never have I seen such a spectacle as Danny; a whisper of a man, barely 150 lbs., consuming so much fast food at one sitting and then riding weightless like a falcon over hill and curve with a smile, a song, and a shout.

... and, today, I wanted a HOT breakfast to take the place of my usual, soul-less, tepid energy bar or tablet. I wanted McDonald's.

Egg and cheese biscuit, rectangular hash-brown, coffee.

From the drive-thru, to the highway, to the first control. MAN, that tasted good!
Upon parking, I pulled out my phone and checked the forecast one last time - and, there it read - the "s" word. Really??? I looked at radar (while drinking coffee, which everyone knows I do) and tried to size up trends and patterns, and, bearing in mind the generalized nature of area forecasts, came to the conclusion that whatever the forecasters saw would pass safely to my north. I'd see a little rain, nothing more, I decided. Still, something convinced me to pack the rain jacket onto the rear rack anyways, just for good measure. "Snow... pah. It won't snow."

Compared to last time out on the Princeton Roundabout route, in January, the c-store's register read the correct time - so, my usual 5-Hour Energy purchase made, receipt obtained; out the door I flew. Lower 40's, and a tailwind for the start... not bad. I began climbing Renner Road, as it crawls up and over I-435 near Shawnee Mission Park. I have fond memories of this hill: a photo of me in the newspaper from a long-ago MS-150 training ride; and, years later, the tactical move that paid off, wherein I dropped two strong riders on the way to a 2nd place finish in the Tour De Shawnee back in the day... I love this climb, and I love how it comes in the first mile of this 200km ride, perfect positioning to get the blood flowing for the task ahead. This time out, however, I could feel that something hadn't settled fully. Not soreness, not cramping - something simply felt "off". Atypically out of breath and grimacing, I made it to the top with questions - obvious questions about my breakfast choice. Stupid of me to so brazenly dismiss what has worked in the past. I'd never eaten McDonald's before a ride, at least not that I could recall... heck, I couldn't remember the last time I'd consumed ANYthing from that establishment. My body proceeded to continue with the digestive "WTF?", while I adopted the "15 minute" rule and continued to push through it.

...une (randonneur) ne peut pas se battre l'estomac vide... - Napolean, para

"It will pass..."
The sky lightened while I rolled west towards K-7 highway on 83rd, approaching my favorite section of the route - Cedar Creek valley. As I crossed underneath "new" K-10, enjoying the solitude of "old" K-10, the first raindrop hit me square in the jowl. For some reason, I grinned. I don't think I had been looking forward to difficulty or extra challenge, but I somehow always manage to find enjoyment in a rainy ride - even in a cold rain. No need for the rain jacket; the raindrops only barely coloring the pavement ahead of me, I'd let the natural wonder of wool do its job. A surreal blanket of calm descended over me as I pedaled along, alone this time out, no conversations save for the chatter in my head. Thick cloud cover hid the sun from my view - no shadows. A crosswind grew on my right shoulder. I passed through Clearview City, and gazed off into the silent, eerie Sunflower Army Ammunition plant complex. A single car passed. A group of students stood huddled under an awning, waiting for their school’s doors to open - silent: no jeers, nothing heard. The only sounds aside from my own breathing had come from a lone meadowlark, following me along in flight while I rode. A sign of spring, his song gloriously bright amid the grey haze that surrounded me, and a tad incongruous. Eudora had begun to come into view, and its morning traffic.

After checking in at the Eudora control, then battling my way through several school zones and intersections, finally out of town (always busy on a weekday nearing 8:00am), I became free to fly south on DG-1061 towards points south, and ultimately Vinland and Baldwin City. The rain hadn't really been a problem at that point. Eudora saw me pass through dry, but chilly. Typically, thinking back to the forecast review in the van a couple hours prior, I scoffed aloud... "rain... hardly..." The wind increased dramatically, another indication of frontal passage. Content that the worst had passed, I put weather concerns out of my head.

In the back of my mind, big hunks of the ride felt exactly like the January edition... except that it felt colder, I saw no sunshine, my stomach hurt, and I rode completely alone... except for all that, yeah, exactly the same ride. HA! My only companion spoke in an occasional howl and whistle; the sound of roadside power lines straining against the gale-force northwestern winds. This tailwind-fueled blast southbound would need to be paid back, and I knew it... so, I tried to tender my pace, making a note to save the push for later for when the headwind would demand it.

I took in the sights and wondered if the sun would eventually come out as I turned west on DG-460. I considered the dark, grayish skies farther north, pondering the weather I’d been lucky enough to miss. I thought about Baldwin City, and whether or not a second McDonald's run would somehow cure the first. Ugh... Although the engineered, tabletized nutritional pellets in my back pockets had begun to work well at eclipsing the breakfast rock in my gut, things hadn’t returned to 100% yet. I passed the old church at Vinland and took respite from the growing crosswind in the shelter afforded by trees and town buildings - just in time for the turn south, and more tailwind-driven action for the run to the next control.

The airplane hangers at Vinland had come into view, and another rain drop splattered against my glasses - the first of many. This time, it'd be an honest shower - yet, still not enough to warrant the rain jacket. Baldwin Pass approached - might as well stay ventilated. I grumbled at the notion that the forecast might have changed, that the radar trend might have twisted back south - who knew. Pedal - no amount of data or information would change where I’d been and where I was headed. Some of the rain looked a little... thick... well, that's weird... and therein lay the magic spark where thinking, reasoning humans pause for a moment - where things stop, or at least slow down, while the brain catches up to the obvious. "uhhh...... is that snow?" So, they were right... but, it's in the 40's, and it's gotta be the back edge of ...whatever, it'll be fine. I even reveled in the opportunity to ride a miniature mountain pass in the snow... I had visions of Hampsten on Gavia; I geared down and rolled out tempo on the local beast, and smiled. Yeah, only a light rain/snow mix fell, and yeah the road stayed clear, and yeah I don't ride for 7-Eleven... but, what a neat moment! Even though I've developed a strong dislike for "pro-kit" advertising wear in the recreational venue, a 7-Eleven team replica jersey (in wool, better) would be an instant purchase, no hesitation.

Satisfied with my exploits, I then enjoyed the long, steady downhill run into Baldwin City, and reached the next control a little after 9:00am. Wet and chilled despite my wool togs, I stepped inside the control and did the needful: coffee, Clif Bar, restroom, card, receipt. Usually content to go immediately back outdoors to prepare for the next leg, this time I elected to rest. I set up shop near the front door, and proceeded to sip on my hot beverage. The morning routine continued outside for Baldwin's residents; people filed in and out of the shop - each one giving me a long, careful consideration - the usual treatment for the cyclist, so out of place in dress.

"You're gonna get wet..." offered a local quarry driver, fresh from the warm cab of his still-idling Sterling-chassis dump truck. We talked about the weather, the roads, and what the radar looked like - good info, from an unlikely source. I like to think of it as the dubious brotherhood of men who wear reflective safety vests; men linked in spirit, regardless of individual pursuits.

I finished my coffee and watched as the rain and snow intermingled -- the rain winning -- and decided the time had arrived to get moving toward Ottawa. The worst should be over. Head out! Still thick with cold rain, and with a bank thermometer across the way which read "36ºF" (it had dropped 3 degrees in 20 minutes), I finally pulled the rain jacket off the rear rack and suited up, zippers pulled high. At least I couldn’t see the snow anymore... could be worse. Despite coffee and food, my recalcitrant gut still stood unmotivated to feel better - more "slow and steady" pacing ahead. Barely able to push even a languid pace thus far, I gave thanks for the tailwind. Standing on the pedals, Ohio Road stretched before me, I watched as the pavement under my front wheel gained speed.

Maybe I’m riding back into it, I thought.

First, a little more snow mixed in with the rain. The snow then intensified and effectively replaced most of the rain - and then a mystical silence, typical of snowfall, fell hard over the countryside around me. I could hear my breath, and the constant hiss of my tires cutting a groove through thin slush on the roadway. The ever-growing snowflakes seemed to stand bolt upright on the tarmac and then fade into it as they quickly metled. I peeked out from under my woolen brim to see what I could of the landscape, most of which had begun to fade, slowly consumed by endless white. The silence intensified, broken only by a passing car - thankfully passing slowly, cautiously, clearly aware of my presence by their occupation of the opposite lane of traffic. People of different cycling upbringings will maintain their opinions on reflective gear, safety vests, and the utter dorkiness of ankle-bands, reflectors, and lights - but at times like these, those things matter most. Confident I could be seen I pedaled on, heads-down against the growing onslaught of larger and larger snowflakes, then clumps of snowflakes - big, wet, snow-bombs. Snowball sized hail?

Last month, I suffered a cracked wheel - something that began to materialize towards the end of January's 200k, and finally revealed itself at the end of a commute. The rim material above the horizontal crack in the sidewall, a product of wear on the braking surface of the wheel, became thin enough to separate, and had been pushed outwards slightly by the pressure of the tube and tire mounted upon it, creating a thump-thump-thump timed with each wheel revolution when I’d apply the brakes. Since then, the front wheel has been rebuilt, and a new backup wheel has been placed into rotation at the rear. All good. So, one could imagine the surprise, shock, and frustration -- and associated shot of adrenaline -- which overcame me upon grabbing my brakes to stop at the intersection of Shawnee and Ohio Roads. Thump-thump-thump! I released the brakes as quickly as I heard the sound, then reapplied... surely I'd imagined it, but it remained. If today held a test for me, I suppose there really wouldn’t be a good time or place... so be it. In heavy snow, I dismounted and crouched down to examine things more closely. Locating the source of the noise, near the rim seam, I applied the brakes while rolling the bike back and forth to recreate the sound. There it was! Thank goodness... the offender, a small rock stuck in the brake pad on one side, had just been catching the slightly raised edge of the rim seam... NOT a crack or break in sight! Rock removed, braking silence restored... I remounted, just in time to catch the stares of disbelief from the occupants of a passing car. "Mornin'", I mumbled to myself, pointing the bike west. Into the wind. Into the snowstorm.

I could envision the only item of clothing I found myself wanting safely stowed in my bag, back in the van, back in the parking lot. Shoe covers. As the snow became heavier and heavier with each passing moment, flying at me sideways in the 25MPH north-west wind, every nook, cranny, crevice and crease in my clothing began to gather snow. Helmet vents became filled, as had the gap between my helmet and the visor of my wool cap, the crooks of each elbow, the front folds of my jacket, the tops of my legs - even in pedaling - and the tops of my shoes. The Velcro closure straps seemed especially good at gathering snow, which slowly melted and compacted, gently heated by the warmth from within my shoes - warmth which had begun to fade as the snow-melt seeped into my socks via the shoes ventilation mesh. Even my headlight struggled; normally generating enough heat to quickly melt off snow, the lens became covered over and required frequent clearing - as did my right eyeglass lens. I rode with my head down, tilted, trying to preserve my vision and my face; the onslaught of thick snowflake clusters hit my cold face with stinging blows, bearable, but distracting. A screen of white and the fuzzy remains of a gray slice of pavement extending into it comprised the whole of my view. Another car passed (also positioned to indicate that he'd seen me) and quickly disappeared into the white haze ahead, consumed by the snow... which gave me wonder on how invisible I must have been.

BARK BARK BARK!!! Of all the times for a dog to jump from the roadside and give chase -- and WHAT a dog, an angry German Sheppard -- why then?? I'd let out some sort of yell, and managed to raise pace just long enough to hold him off. Not invisible enough, apparently.

All of the following happened in mere seconds, while I considered if the rushing noise I’d heard behind me had been another car, or simply the wind. I could see the face of my Dad in the white, snowy sky ahead of me. Yesterday would have been his 65th birthday. You can draw, as I did, on the parallels of Obi Wan Kenobi appearing to Luke in the snows of Hoth after he'd escaped from the ice cave - but, in my darkest hours of self-doubt sometimes Dad shows his face, when I seem to be on the edge of giving in. Go to Ottawa, Luke! I laughed at myself. Apparently, this had been one of those times where my mind wandered too far. I never coasted. I never shifted gears... at least, I don't remember doing so. All I remember came as a warm smile, and a hand on my shoulder. I saw my kids, and made sure I remained as far to the right as possible - just in case. My wife... I laughed with friends at work, over drinks, over chats online... and began to filter through the "I've-had-worse" file until I realized that perhaps I’d begun a new page, altogether. I uncorked motivational phrases, and the one that stuck came from (shocker) Survivorman:

"The wind and the weather just ARE; you can either deal with it, or you can't" - Les Stroud

“Deal with it, Dude...” Leaning sideways into the cross-headwind, pounded by snow, buffeted by gusts, my helmeted head heavy with packed snow - icy needles of cold, melted water leaked into my shoes, ran down my neck, down my forehead and, yet, strangely, I felt perfectly dressed... damp, but comfortable. (Thank you, wool.) There would be no phone calls, no stopping, no complaining. I cracked a meek smile at the elements, shifted, and upped the tempo... I watched as the snow tried to win the battle against residual pavement heat with its sheer numbers -- the blobs of white stayed upright a little longer now, and I started to leave a visible trail in my wake -- but, finally, the snow had begun to give up. The sky lightened, the snow changed back to light rain, and eventually it all faded entirely. As I rolled along large slabs of snow began to fall from my bike and my body ... "doubt"... "impossibility"... all fell from my arms and shoulders and melted away into nothingness on the pavement behind me. I paused near some railroad tracks to remove my helmet and help the rest of them along. Though the hour had seemed to last a day, I’d only one conclusion:

that ... was ... AWESOME …

The rest of the ride pales in comparison to the challenge of punching through a snowstorm over 15 miles or so, smack in the middle of what ultimately totalled 127 miles and change. The skies played games for the rest of the day - brief hints of sunshine would lift my spirits, but more clouds would close in to dash them. I enjoyed a wicked-fast run from Ottawa to Princeton (after drying out inside Casey’s on 7th street for about 30 minutes, with coffee and hot food). My average speed at the halfway point read “only” 15.8MPH, but I felt ecstatic at the number considering the challenges I’d endured to that point. I paused there, too, feeling destroyed, whipped, and hollow.

My lower gut still not in the mood to cooperate, I rested. The entire 2nd half of the ride lay ahead with a huge question mark. I recalled SK’s mindful words: “when I’m halfway, it’s in the bag.” Chin up, I ate what I needed to - knowing that a full-on bonk would be far worse than the stomach issues I’d been enduring. The lack of push reminded me to gear down and spin. Enjoy the day! (at least try...) Sometimes, the fifteen minute rule needs to be repeated for a few hours before it works.

I stowed the rain jacket, confident at least the remaining ride would be dry, and proceeded north for only a couple tenths of a mile to return to the eastbound section of the ride. Those couple of tenths presented a preview -- 25MPH, gusty northwest winds conspired to shove me backwards as I pedaled... holy crud. No worries... I turned east, safe from the headwind at that moment. Upon arriving at Osawatomie, 17 miles distant, I’d have to bear down and face roughly 50 miles of gale to get back to the start/finish. Eat, drink, pedal -- and don’t think about it.

I did what I could to enjoy the ride, marvelling at the picturesque vistas of Franklin County and seemingly endless fields beginning to take on a slight hint of bright, spring green. Birds spoke in song with the teasing of sunshine -- more meadowlarks, robins, wrens, cardinals, and magnificent bluebirds occasionally brightened my mood, and took my mind off my inability to push very hard. I arrived at the Casey’s in Osawatomie, refueled, and began my nervously anticipated march northbound.

Songs popped into and out-of my head - but none lasted very long. My brain longed for distraction from the task ahead, but all I could muster came in short bursts of self-talk - the snowstorm had presented a challenge, and possibly the most intense precipitation I’d ever ridden through, but that encompassed the extent of its remark-ability. Now, long into the day, low on energy, accelerations punished with gut cramps, I sunk deep into the low end of the motivation pool after Osawatomie. Slowly advancing towards Paola, nausea came into play. I lingered in a strange place where-in I knew food would be beneficial, yet, the thought of eating turned my stomach and left me very aware of my tongue. Plain water -- that’s all I’d want.

Paola: the good, old 66-Station, and a place to sit.

I normally don’t like to sit down at controls. The desire to sit often wins the argument against standing back up to continue riding. Maybe it comes from past experience... the few times I’d sat down during past rides, I’d ended up making a phone call shortly afterward. Feeling weak, nauseated, sleepy and dazed, I sat and stared at the floor. The c-store gal and I chatted for a bit while I snacked on good, stable food - potato chips and water. Nice and slow.

Slightly renewed - frustrated that I could neither pass away any of the discomfort in my gut, nor expel anything forth to calm my nausea, I saddled back up again and looked north. The wind, fiercely tugging at flags and power lines, howled and laughed -- Hedge Lane... the roundabout... Old KC Road.... Hillsdale.

Oy... stopping again? YES.

My mental ammunition had run dry. My head produced no thoughts - good or bad. I knew I had until 7:38pm to finish this ride - I only had to average scarcely 8 MPH to finish on time. Surely I could pedal that out. Yet, for the first time in years - out came the phone.

My wife isn’t a cyclist. Specific things about cycling exist that she - same as any non-cyclist - doesn’t “get”. But, she knows me better than I know myself. I needed someone to clear through the noise in my head, and get me straight again. Sometimes, I just need a little pep-talk.

Three minutes or so. Done. Thanks, honey...

Back to work. All my legs could muster hovered around 13 MPH, but, movement trumps loafing. Late afternoon traffic began to filter onto the local roads while I inched closer and closer to “town”, sharpening my attention. Spring Hill prompted another stop -- it seemed I’d been retaining water, byproduct of stomach distress perhaps, and now I couldn’t sit for more than a few miles without needing a nature break - but perhaps something had turned a corner, digestively. I took it as a sign to put more fuel in - proven fuel: Hammer Gel to the rescue ( I hoped )

More traffic - time to work through suburbia. Past Spring Hill High School, to Olathe, and stoplight mania. Full, 100%-power never really arrived, but traffic presented a worthy distraction while I navigated roundabouts, dodged afternoon drivers, and crawled ever closer to the finish.

Renner Road, positioned at the end of a day such as this, embodies pure evil. No sense trying to muscle the climbs - spinning, just like last time out, I checked off the hills one-by-one, finally arriving at 87th street.

“TWO MILES!” … and it came. The final, long descent down Renner towards Midland Drive allowed me to stop pedaling... “finished”...

Yet, still, despite it all... after receiving the final stamp and receipt to finalize my route and prove my passage ...a smile.

Not all of these rides can be easy, not all of them can be fun. I don't enjoy doing things that aren't fun, and as seriously as I take my riding, I try not to take it TOO seriously. This fact stands vitally important here: I have been criticized, as has randonneuring, as being sadistic. Long-distance riding has been classified as something that simply doesn't sound fun at all to a majority of cyclists. I often wonder if my portrayals lean too far into the dramatic (well, duh, it’s my style). Do I paint perhaps too gloomy a picture of randonneuring? I wonder if the club here suffers by my pen. No matter my take on things, rides like these won’t appeal to everyone.

*I* like it, though - I keep coming back, year after year, because the rides remain long enough that they never really become “easy”. I have a lot of fun on shorter rides, dabbles with gravel touring, bike-camping, and local club “race”rides.... but, randonneuring offers a test. I like the personal test. I admire that, for unique and talented riders, these rides appear REALLY easy - and I aspire to their approach and technique. I like that no matter how many of these I finish, there remains something to reach towards. I like that the entry fees have stayed cheaper than t-shirt rides, sometimes on the order of 10:1 in price. I like that I have quantifiable proof of my passage, and that I can earn medals. They’re just small mementos, worthless to most; but, I fancy sitting in a recliner someday, grandchildren at my feet, and I’ll produce a tarnished, silvery medallion from a shoebox and spin a story or two from a time where men and women rode free in the open countryside.

It's not all sunshine and roadside flowers, no - but, in the darker moments I find out more about myself - I make myself stronger, somehow. Maybe it’s not fun when it happens. Suffering is relative, after all -- I’ve never seen combat. I’ve never been injured so badly that I genuinely had to say my goodbyes to anyone. I’m thankful for those things, and many more. Yet, when I find myself on the saddle of a bicycle and things begin to lean towards difficulty, when nature starts to hammer through my clothes, skin, muscles, down to my bones, to marrow, down into the intangible fabric of my being... overcoming those moments -- for someone whose childhood had unfolded rife with self-doubt and “can’t” -- reminds me of what I am capable. It’s not heroic, it’s not impossible.. yet, somehow, it’s necessary. When given the choice, yes: I’d much rather have the double tailwind, the sunshine, the heat of a summers day, but days like March 2nd, 2012 teach me how to stand fast in the face of adversity...perhaps even how to smile at it. On balance, I gladly accept both extremes. I still strongly contend that randonneuring’s good moments, though they occupy fewer lines of text, greatly out-number the challenging ones. Part of me feels just a little sad sometimes that we don’t have more riders, more people with whom to share the moments. Even at the end of this particularly challenging day on the bicycle, I ended with a smile. I always do. There’s “fun” there... but, something deeper, too. The rides manage to extract a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that borders on euphoric - and few other activities these days can offer those feelings the way randonneuring does.

“Did you have a good ride?”

The question still hung in the air as I twisted the cap from my freshly purchased, and earned, 20 oz. Coke. A satisfying hiss filled the gap between his last utterance and my careful pause.

“Absolutely... a GREAT ride....” I smiled back, raising my drink.

“Heckuva day, though...” he offered with a raised eyebrow.

“...coulda been worse...”

We both laughed.

It's just a cycle

2012-02-16T09:42:00.001-06:00

I haven't ridden a single mile since the last 200km on February 2nd.

I've hung it up, but only temporarily.

The last ride unfolded with relative "ease", what with the 50+F temperature, clear roads, and light winds; however, the calendar still reads "February" - and for me, mentally, things become difficult during this month. What I have to complain about, or struggle through, I can't possibly imagine; we've dipped into the single digits exactly once this year, and the region received a touch of snow this week, but, it really wasn't that bad - so if that episode comprises our "winter", what's the problem? I *should* be riding, not wasting, this rare and moderate February! The snow has since melted away, yet, even with temperatures climbing, I don't feel a yearning to grab the bike and ride. I would be foolish to resist my own, natural cycle.

Year after year, the second month's posts read nearly the same. Dreary, dreadful, laments about how tired I am, how pointless it all has become, blah, blah, blah.... the signs of trying too hard, flaming out, shrinking into the shadows of a long, hard winter's season. One grows tired of pulling on so many layers, squinting into a biting headwind, fumbling with gloved fingers ... and, even this year with those elements partly absent, one at least feels an inkling of having been riding in a continuous streak for one or two weeks too long. Time for a break.

"Did you ride today?" It escapes me why this question comes so often, now, while I rest - more than any other time of year. Guilt? No... not this year. For once I am content with my decision and don't find it necessary to make excuses. Unfortunately, the service life of some of my gear has done that for me. Personal breaks aside, a string of equipment failures has popped up - so, the bicycle needs a rest, too, it seems. Wheels are rebuilt, spares in rotation, tires on-order... all in good time; I nearly beg the UPS man to take his time, afford me these minor excuses so that my brain might rest ... just for a couple weeks. Come Monday, it'll be alright...

Surely as I write this, though, the next distance attempt looms. I have to maintain some semblance of an 'edge' to my blade, so cross-training continues.

I'm sleeping well, eating well, training well -- all while making note of the sun's gentle march northward on dawn's horizon. I wait, patiently, with my saddle at arms length, for that moment to arrive -- when my helmet buckle clicks home and pedals engage with their satisfying reports, I will set off into early Spring, renewed, refreshed and ready. Ready for ride "number nine"....OH yes....

"...wait for it.... now."

Bicycle Dreams, this week!

2012-02-13T18:37:00.000-06:00

REMINDER! Check out the post below - Bicycle Dreams comes to KC this WEEK!

http://www.commuterdude.com/2012/01/bicycle-dreams-comes-to-kc-feb-18th.html

Smiles & Shadows - The Groundhog Day 217k

2012-02-06T08:14:00.001-06:00

The groundhog never saw us coming.

Randy, Terry and I set off into the darkness in 40ºF temps; temperatures optimistic for the "high" on a February day in Kansas, and yet we were planning on breaking 60 later in the afternoon. I had planned this ride date about three weeks back, honestly not knowing WHAT to expect. January was a roller coaster, weather-wise. How could the "other shoe" not drop by the time early February arrived? My plan was to take the earliest possible ride date in the month in case I would have needed to reschedule due to ice, snow, impassible-by-bike conditions. So much for THAT idea - not even needed, not even close. Even today, as I type this, the skies have opened with heavy rain and north winds, low-40's, chilly... and still, for February, that wouldn't have been all that bad. If the kids hadn't been out of school today, requiring my presence at home, I *would* have been out there in the drearier conditions - and, yet, the weather still reminds me of March. Very strange... and makes me wonder what March itself has in store.

Performance, speed, gains...patience, Grasshopper... Thursday's ride - for me - involved "painting the fence", and "waxing the car". Spinning. I took a leaf of advice provided by Alex last month and made a concerted effort to stay off the big ring and keep the cadence high for this ride, and for the last several commutes. I don't want to start going numbers-crazy, and I have no plans to get a computer that will provide cadence - but, I do want to keep the revs up for a few more months and try not to do my usual gear mashing. The mental note seemed to work; when I felt the revs drop I shifted and spun... and the chainlube markings on my cassette afterwards confirm I was at least 2 gears taller on the cluster than usual. This worked out very well, and I feel surprisingly fresh today - though I can definitely feel that I was seated a lot more than usual. With the motivation of some very strong riders in Terry and Randy, however, I still managed to finish the 217km (135 miles) in 10 hours, 40 minutes, roughly. Not bad for total time! My rolling average ended up being 15.4MPH, wonderful for this time of year!

I'm conscious of potential burn-out with all these super-nice weather days for 200k rides; mentioned last month, speed must be tendered a little in the "off-season" to ensure recovery if performance gains are to be realized. I can already sorta feel it happening - I still want to chase riders faster than I am, and I'm tired. Note to self: SLOW DOWN, let them go! While I'm not 100% sure what goal I'm shooting for, I maintain a desire for speed-at-distance and testing myself at longer and longer events later this spring and summer, and a large part of that means following SOME kind of methodology. I don't know, honestly, how those guys down in Texas (though they've had more snow than WE have this winter!) keep it going year-round. The mileages are higher, the average speeds higher, and, somehow, the smiles are wider! One of these days I'll figure it out - but I have a strong notion it comes from the tedium of commuting. On that note, I'm purposefully looking towards a light February, to help the mind reset from winter.

"What winter?" Aside from a frozen face back in December, I don't recall enduring much in the way of winter weather; even on either side of the December ride date were 50F days! With clear skies overhead, we enjoyed an amazing sunrise and saw our shadows all day long, confirming there are 6 more weeks of whatever-we're-calling-this-season. I fully expect a blizzard on the solstice in March. Thursday, though, what can I say? Gentle headwinds on the trip down to La Cygne, comfortable, unrushed stops along the way, plenty of clock to play with, lots to see, confused birds singing, hawks hunting, the occasional squirrel... and DOGS. Lots of dogs. I lost count, seriously, but far more than usual for this route. I should know... and I should get a special prize; this trip marked my 12th running of the Free-State Border Patrol route. I suppose I should have expected this, having designed it with a start location only a mile from home; I can't ignore the convenience factor of this route. When I can skip having to pack the van, having to remember this and that, having to figure transit time to a remote parking lot, I feel more at-ease like I'm giving myself a small break - plus, the route seldom gets old. Strangely, the Border Patrol seems shorter and easier, because I've ridden it so much. I keep thinking I'll end up with some weird, Bill Murray flashbacks or hallucinations by riding this route SO much.. but, thus far it hasn't happened. I could use a good hallucination now and again... weird recurring theme for THIS ride, I sporadically kept "seeing" approaching cyclists up the road, but in each instance a trash bin, mailbox, or some kind of roadside ornament eventually materialized.

Perceptions of ease notwithstanding, I have to do the time and the distance... ten hours plus requires food. Nutrition delivery: I'm still playing around with delivery systems - this latest foray I've employed a miniature musset bag composed of mesh hung from a lanyard around my neck. The mesh allows crumbs to fall through to the ground, keeps the weight low, and it holds enough chow for any distance between controls. First run, not so bad; although it was difficult with the limited dexterity of gloved hands while riding in the dark - and I ended up with an interesting abrasion on my neck afterwards. Still, having food at easy reach ensured my tank was topped off all day, and as an added bonus the small bag became my third hand at controls; I could carry around my wallet and route card and such and have both hands free for bottle filling and other duties. Granted, back pockets also do this, but it seemed to make my control routine smoother and faster. Surprisingly, contrary to my expectations, it didn't get in my way while riding or climbing. Ultimately, I can't get around the neck chafing so I may just suck it up and go back to a stem bag, which also has worked in the past. I have a problem adding bags and "clutter" to a bicycle which has (what I feel are) very clean lines and simplicity... but, time and again, if the food isn't readily at-hand, I go too deep into deficit. I'll come up with something just in time for winter to be over, when my back pockets will be open and free again.

Nutrition this time:

Perpetuem Solids - 18 in total, spread over the 10 hours. (3 = 100 cals)

Hammer Gel - single serve packs - 3 total, 90 cals each

Casey's hashbrown - single (unsure on cals)

Peanut Butter sandwich crackers - 22 total, across 3 controls/3 pks purchased

Carboplex, 1 serving, 220 cals/52g carbs - at La Cygne on return (note, should have been at halfway)

Powerade Zero (0 cals, delivery for Carboplex + electrolytes)

GU Brew electrolyte tabs dissolved in water, all day (5 cals ea.)

Not bad - but, I think a bit of a deficit, overall. In the last 20 miles I began to feel a bit of an energy drop off, but nothing nearly as dramatic as last month's mid-ride near-bonk. The difference at previous rides; at each control that carries them I'd consume something from the Powerbar folks, and that may be the little extra to keep me on top. On this excursion, the single hashbrown at Casey's represents the only real-food intake on the whole ride. Adding the Powerbar selections (at least) back into the mix, even if I pocket them and eat them on the move (as I did the PB crackers), should help. I did well in the hydration department - maybe too well - requiring far more roadside nature breaks than I'd prefer and some sections of extended discomfort where roadside nature-break "shelters" didn't present themselves.

We pick up the action at sunrise, on US-69 highway's wide shoulder. Warm air dances around my head as we three, spaced a little bit apart from one another, make our way to the first control at La Cygne. We've been lucky, timing the traffic for schools and those headed to work rather well. Finally, off the big highway, we regroup and chat for a bit while taking in a few snacks. There were nice occasional breaks like this off-and-on during the ride, and I liked it - compared to a few years back, I enjoy having time in the bank. On Jingo Road, the dog-festival began; first it was the 399th street crew, then more action from a big black Labra-Doodle a mile later. I kept to my small-ring theory, letting them (hopefully) run themselves out of gas before my counterparts arrived - at this point I think we still maintained spacing at about 1/4-1/8th mile between us, before finally regrouping where K-152 and Jingo Road meet.

We stopped here briefly for another regroup and a nature break atop the "Welcome to La Cygne" ridge. What a view! Then came the long downhill into the La Cygne valley - always a treat - and the first control. I decided this time out to skip the usual cheesy potato bites, recalling sluggishness during climbing on my last trip to Pleasanton - the result, combined with my spin drills, seemed to level-out the climbs before me. Not record-breaking speed, but easier somehow; even Flathead Pass felt controlled and steady, instead of the usual method of trying to figure out how much I can give before inevitably collapsing into the saddle at the summit. I'm told the real trick involves continuing this kind of training until I can successfully feel the same level of control and ease, but in larger gears.

More dog encounters for the return leg, but more smiles than frowns. With such weather, a few dog chases can't possibly get me down. At this point I've shed some layers; the warmth of the day continues to build. Eventually, I'd be in short sleeves with uncovered ears and fingers...in February! Amazing...and far from wishful thinking - at times I found myself genuinely HOT rolling northbound with a tailwind and full sunshine on my back. Complaints? No way! After another unplanned nature stop, we fly north on the shoulder of US-69 towards Rutlader, KS., slowing ticking off the miles towards the finish. I find myself wishing I'd booked a 300km permanent only to have the extra time to soak it all in. Sure, days like these will become the norm in only a few more weeks, but, to ENJOY the February permanent? Bliss!

All-in-all the rest of the ride proceeded very well. We slipped out of Louisburg (usually busy with traffic in the afternoon) without issue, enjoyed the scenery as we practically coasted through Aubry, tailwind increasing, and on to Stilwell. After another brief rest at 199th near US-69, only 10 miles remained. I was almost sad for the ride to be wrapping up, but thicker clouds began to cast over the skies - the promise of Friday's rainy forecast beginning to show its dreary face. Still, keeping up the spin -- and, admittedly, feeling tired (calories, or all those extra revs?) -- we geared down, enjoyed the high-speed blast down Antioch Hill, and slowly ticked off the remaining miles on the ample shoulder of 175th street. Finally back in Olathe, the 7-Eleven quickly came back into sight; a celebratory chocolate milk recovery drink wrapped up the day's c-store fare. Not a bad way to end...

Equipment note:

Upon finishing the January Princeton Roundabout route for last month's R-12 grab, I'd begun to notice a new "knock" or "thunk", timed with each wheel revolution, when braking the rear wheel. Still dead-true as always, even after 2-years use (thanks to the skill of Dale at BikeSource, who builds a terrific wheel), I couldn't quite figure out what the noise was all about. A sticker? Wheel seam? Looking closer, days later and after more mileage from a few commutes, I discovered a crack in the side of the rim on the braking surface. After just these couple years, and as a byproduct of simply using the brakes, the machined braking surface had worn thin and had started to separate; tire pressure then caused a 2" long section to begin bending outward, causing the once-per-rotation "thunk". Uh-oh...

Knowing I'd be putting myself and others at risk by continuing to use the wheel, especially on a 217km ride, I worked quickly in the days leading up to this ride to procure a spare, and ended up purchasing a Mavic Aksium. My preference, of course, would have been a rando-specific wheel similar to what I'd been running, but time was too short to make it happen. Since my garage was without a spare rear wheel anyways, the Aksium simply fills that role now... or does it? Several folks I know have run or are running these "entry-level" pre-built "race" wheels on rando-bikes and commuter-bikes alike and have had terrific luck, so the choice was easy. After this ride, I'm having a hard time justifying the purchase of a "rando-style" (32-spoke, 3-cross laced, silver box-section rim, mid-range road cassette hub) to replace what failed. The Aksium rolls fast and smooth and is no heavier or lighter than what it replaced. The freehub noise rates a bit louder than I prefer, but not annoyingly so, yet, aside from that mechanical observation -- remedied easily with a drop of oil on each pawl -- aesthetics comprise the only remaining criticism.

So, spare??? A wheel this good? We'll see.... I do prefer a certain look to my bikes, but I'm having trouble faulting this wheel simply because it doesn't look "retro". Functionally, it represents a terrific value, and may be on the bike for a while. Hard to ignore the lack of spokes, however; the Aksium has 20, and my preferred set-up has 32 - ride quality, field serviceability are potential concerns: but, in the same breath I've replaced a spoke on a Mavic Ksyrium before using a FiberFix spoke, and managed to finish that ride - so, should I be concerned? We'll see.

March is coming.... along with it, spring... and nothing but good thoughts fill my head. Stay tuned! Number 9 is next!!

The rest of February involves contiuation of spinning, patience, and "taking it easy"... if I ride very much at all, that is....I think this method will prove best towards guarantee a good springtime campaign.

Stay tuned!

Songs in my head:

In the Waiting Line - Zero7

Dance Yrself Clean - LCD Soundsystem

Dusty Road - Oi Va Voi

Scarlet Begonias - Sublime (cover)

If You Could Read My Mind - Gordon Lightfoot

Eddie's Ragga - Spoon

Thanks for reading!

Check out Randy's superb post (with photos!) here

February 200k completed...I think?

2012-02-02T18:20:00.001-06:00

I mean to say, I THINK today falls in the month of February! Along with Randy R., and Terry B. from St. Joseph, MO., I completed today's 217km Border Patrol route (my 12th personal running of this route, upon counting - yikes) in the best conditions I could have hoped for, considering the month. We started out under clear skies, light breezes, and 41ºF on the thermometer. Diving in and out of valleys, the temperature did fluctuate - but, all-in-all it was very warm, even pre-dawn. Up came the sun, and up shot the temps - eventually topping somewhere in the lower-60's. Acclimated to colder riding from the last few months, I heated up quickly, and ended the day with only knee warmers remaining in place... and in the end I wish I'd ditched THEM, too.

Short sleeves in February, in KANSAS???? Un-real!!!!! LOVE IT! More to come... time for food and rest....

R-12 update: this marks #8.... four to go!!!

I hope everyone managed to get out today and enjoy this amazing weather!

Full post to come!

Bicycle Dreams comes to KC, Feb. 18th

2012-01-31T16:07:00.001-06:00

"Bicycle Dreams, the award-winning feature-length documentary about the Race Across America (RAAM), will premiere in Kansas City at the Screenland Crossroads Theatre on Saturday, February 18 at 7 p.m.

The screening is sponsored as a benefit for BikeWalkKC.

"To capture the mammoth scope of the race, Stephen Auerbach, the director and producer of Bicycle Dreams, worked around the clock with a complement of eighteen cameras. Embedded camera operators traveled inside the racers' support crew vehicles, gaining unprecedented access to the cyclists and their teams. Their footage captured emotional and physical breakdowns, late-night strategy sessions, and great moments of personal triumph, all in intimate detail. Auerbach then took on the enormous task of editing hundreds of hours of material and forming it into a powerful and inspiring look inside the most difficult race on the planet."

"Bicycle Dreams has won major awards at the Fallbrook and Breckenridge film festivals, as well as the Yosemite, Grand Rapids, Red Rock and All Sports LA film festivals, among many others. Critical acclaim for the film continues to pour in from all sources."

Tickets will be $10 in advance and $15 at the door the night of the show. To purchase advance tickets, order online at www.imathlete.com/events/bicycledreams.

For more information about the event, go to www.bikewalkkc.org.

For more information on the film, go to www.bicycledreamsmovie.com or visit us on Facebook here for more info on the KC event

Media contact: Garry Harrington 603-209-5010 gharrington3165@hotmail.com

Most of the above comes directly from the press release announcing this event, however, I wanted to interject my own observations here, as well. If you have ever thrown a leg over a bicycle for any length of road or trail, I highly recommend viewing this film. Little else captures the drama, excitement, and struggle of RAAM so perfectly as Bicycle Dreams. I've owned the DVD for a while now, and I reference it for motivation and inspiration whenever the mood strikes; and it never fails to deliver.

In June 2003, I stood on the shoulder of US-54 and watched several RAAM competitors ride past - including local hero Bryon Rieper, crewed by the Warbird (at the wheel of the follow-van at the time). Though each encounter with the riders lasted only seconds, the high emotions I felt found me physically jumping up and down, clapping and shouting encouragement like a rabid European fan on an Alpine pass. Realizing the significance of where I was standing, just outside Iola, KS., was equally awe-inspiring, and can be described in one word: "halfway." Watching Bicycle Dreams encapsulates those same feelings and spreads them over 104 minutes.

Get a sitter, take a significant cycling-other, and grab this rare opportunity to view this masterwork on the big screen.

Head games

2012-01-22T17:37:00.001-06:00

I stumbled upon another interesting tip while reading a popular ultra-distance blog, involving music, which I might try later this spring. Like the author of that piece (I'll link later), I often find myself with music drifting into and out-of my head in the middle of riding the odd 200km brevet, yet I'm hesitant to ride with headphones. The songs just pop into my head, and I've been okay with that. I've cataloged a great deal of these songs in the footnotes of most of my ride posts, as sometimes they subtly speak to my state of mind for that particular venture - but it never occurred to me to put them all into a single playlist. Now, for commutes and training rides it's still very doubtful that I'd use headphones.. even a single earbud. Traffic and such - in town - not a good idea in my book, though I'm sure a lot of folks do it every day and don't end up a statistic. However, when distances extend beyond 300km, later this spring - in those darker times when my mind is looking for ways to no longer participate in the task at hand - maybe it's advantageous to have those tunes that would pop into my head in better times ready to go? Maybe it'd be a clever trick to get through those tougher overnight hours, or when emotions run south for an hour here or there after fatigue sets in. Hard to tell -- but an iPod shuffle takes up very little space, after all. While I think this is definitely a terrific plan for the PA system strapped to the front of the RAAM support vehicle, off in some distant future, time will tell if I join the earbud-club on the next 600k. Still on the fence. However, personal squeamishness aside, I suppose it is indeed one more item for the mental toolkit towards randonneuring success... just to be used with a grain of caution, of course.

Carry on!

Post-script: Reviewing my personal playlist, I struggled with omitting certain songs and came up with a way to get around the hesitation to include them: if you're as musucally ecclectic as I profess to be, it's often very confusing as to WHY certain songs (that, in popular company, I'd probably admit to "hating") pop into my head while on long rides. I've found it best not to limit yourself here. Add it to the playlist. It's a very special place that randonneuring takes your mind - hours in the saddle, mindless pedalling, endorphins, nutritional peaks and valleys, and mental wandering...and of the thousands of songs I've listened to and called "favorite", it's weird what actually ends up repeating in my brain sometimes. Upon logging post-ride notes it's often the reaction of, "why was it THAT song???"

It may be your subconscious' way of telling you that you really DON'T "hate that song". Perhaps there's a certain rhythm, a chord change, a specific lyric that is relevant... and you have to "suffer" through the first half of it to get there. 'Come into my Life' by Robert Plant comes to mind... where my first instinct is to skip the track, but six minutes later I remember why I love it. Let it happen, don't hesitate to include it - even if in certain circles you'd be ridiculed for it. There is no shame in music. Coming from a childhood upbringing that included ABBA to Zappa and quite literally dang-near everything in between, there is little reason for me to enjoy listening to overplayed Top40 tripe like Katy Perry or Breathe Carolina ... but I do anyways. I have no wonders about HOW my tastes got so varied to begin with - I'm very glad they are: thanks, Mom & Dad. When it doubt, just go with it.

If you employ the above method of reverting to an earbud during hour 21 of a 600km epic, and "that song you hate" comes on, you will grumble, you will laugh, and then you will sing along.... but, most importantly, you won't be giving a moments thought to the saddle sores and aching legs you were trying to forget in the first place.

A call to action - yes, even here.

2012-01-18T09:32:00.001-06:00

I won't spend a lot of time on this - we'll return to regular programming with the very next post.

However, I think this deserves the space.

I urge all of you to take action on any of the myriad sites that offer petitions or conduits to contact congress and the house on the PIPA / SOPA issue.

Do it today, sign a petition.

Call your local representative.

Email them.

Do something, though, if you feel strongly about this - for OR against.

Visit this site, today.

Thank you.

Dodging the bullet

2012-01-16T12:26:00.001-06:00

Record warmth for January, it seems -- if only on average... it's been unseasonably warm for weeks at a time now, with only a single, minor snow event since the year began. I was a "good boy" and rolled the dice on a permanent date that was well outside the view of weather forecasts and then held my fingers crossed for three weeks. Amazingly, though it was chillier than I'd have liked, we pulled it off. In the 48 hours leading up to the ride start the temperature went from nearly 60 degrees, down into the teens, snow, finally rebounding back up into the 40's. Talk about dodging the bullet. As I sit to write out some scattered notes from the road, it has already been back in the 60's again. A very weird January for Kansas.

It was neat and appropriate, however, seeing just a tiny bit of snow here and there on the roadsides as we made our way out of night's darkness and into a fresh mid-winter morning. You may notice the "we"... and not the royal version this time: I was not alone. Another weird experience for January! Taking advantage of the relatively warmer climes, I was host to four other riders on this voyage - a rare treat. Alex S., Gary McD, Terry B. came out to share the experience, along with Randy R. whom we bumped into in Ottawa while out for a day of exploring on his old steel steed. While I've attended a couple of group rides here and there over the fall months, including a great ride out to the Louisburg Cider Mill for New Year's Eve, I hadn't enjoyed company on a long ride since July. Although, I have to say my brain certainly isn't used to having company... I still caught myself staring off at the road and keeping my thoughts largely to myself, instead of striking up conversations - however, as cycling goes I think everyone follows roughly the same playbook: there isn't a tentative feeling of needing to fill the void with words "just because". Sometimes just having another person on a bike next to you is plenty, and I think everyone "gets it". I like that, even though it's taken me a while to get there myself without feeling like I'm being rude.

The whole ride was almost for naught. A sharp pair of eyes caught the fact that the first controls register computer was off by about 16 minutes, producing our first receipt with a time-stamp of 6:47am... something that, while explainable and possibly verifiable later, would have effectively rendered our permanent ride 'void' on paper. No jumping the gun in randonneuring! Instead, we hung out, chatted, and this gave a little amount of time to run back to the cars and drop off a few layers - as the temperature was 12 degrees warmer than forecast! Things have a way of working out - and though we knew we were "wasting time", we waited, got a good receipt, and rolled off into the morning air together. This is precisely what the 1-hour first control buffer is for, I suppose. While part of me was anxious that we were already "behind", I also knew that stiff winds and hills awaited - and there was really no reason to be in a hurry.

Wild temperature swings and anomalously warm spells in winter usually mean "wind", and that was certainly the case. We'd be battling the wind heading west for most of the first half of the ride - but the breaks from it resulted in unexpected tailwind triumphs on the southbound sections. We made our way past Shawnee Mission Park, up and down sweeping hills over some terrific scenery, which is normally obscured by darkness because of earlier start times. Today, the sunrise wasn't far behind our departure - another tidbit my brain wasn't used to. I suppose I've had my fair share of night-time training over the last few months - Back in November I didn't see the sun until I was 50 miles deep. This time out, we barely needed to have our taillights on for 30 minutes. Not bad. What was better was being able to see what was normally hidden on this route - the Princeton Roundabout. It skirts western Shawnee, KS., heads out towards Desoto, Clearview City and the old Sunflower Army Ammunition Plant and its signature quadruple watertowers, dances with state route 10 here and there (in places I think we are actually on the old highway alignment), and out to Eudora for the first control.

The Cedar Creek section is especially mystical: we dive down into a valley that contains several small branches of the Kansas River, and the resulting terrain is otherworldly compared to the usual vast fields and cropland west of the KC metro. Huddled in the shadow of huge outcroppings and deep into patches of forest, the creeks rippling along nearby, its easy to let myself get transported off to rural places I've only imagined of. Rustic houses, dilapidated barns scattered about, the road twisting and turning - following the river instead of the grid - long morning shadows creating an interplay of flashing sunshine between bare-branched trees, foraging animals scurrying about, birds at play... and a few cyclists silently taking it all in, gradually exiting the area in timeless elegance across an old truss bridge. Picture postcard mastery.

Sidebar: even if you have to drive there to see it, go see that bridge before it is gone. The county has been holding true to a long-standing 50-year bridge replacement plan for the entire area, and the last decade has seen many of these cool, character-rich bridges replaced with soulless, modern concrete decks. The Norman Rockwell-esqe images of rural America are beginning to fade into obscurity as civil engineering firms rush to rehabilitate crumbling infrastructure. Coming across one of these bridges on a long bike ride is one of the things that make long distance cycling worthwhile - and they are becoming increasingly rare. This bridge (link above) is literally one of the last ones open to traffic in Johnson County. If you are planning a bike ride of any length, the Bridgehunter website is an excellent way to find these unique structures and include them in your route plan.

We rejoin our riders emerging from Eudora refueled and ready for the next stage. The sun is getting higher in the sky, and the wind is finally favorable. Alex, ever the strong rider, is opening a big gap with the strong tailwind - and before long he's WAY up the road. Spurred on by having a target up the road I can't help but push my own pace to the limits - and, foolishly riding outside myself, I am eating up the road with a smile. Along with spirited climbing over the hills leading out of the Cedar Creek valley, I am beginning to cut into my reserves far to early... typical, and at the time I don't even realize my mounting mistakes. While there is one thing to be said for training by chasing stronger riders, my brain is excited about riding with others too much to care about the consequences.

I burn a fair amount of reserves, and don't take in nearly enough calories for the return to a westerly direction at Douglas County highway 460, where the wind returns with a mighty slap to the face. Pace is reduced to a crawl, and at times its a lot to ask to even maintain double-digit speeds. Nuts. Absolutely nothing to block the gale out here. Head down, I start to shove out the pace. Vinland arrives, and I take a moment to take in the old church and some of the stone foundation buildings before turning south again to enjoy the tailwind... which, "strangely", this time isn't as enjoyable. Not as much push remaining... wonder why THAT is? (ha) Alas, I still have some climbing left in the legs for the grunter of Baldwin Pass that awaits. I manage to make a good personal showing up the climb - possibly the best and most controlled I've ever climbed the beast, keeping breathing and cadence in check... so, while I still have something to learn in the mental control department when it comes to riding with other people, I'm pleased with how things have progressed over the months.

Baldwin City, and control #2. The group comes together again within minutes, and we all do our control routines and mount back up for the next leg. Thankfully, we're still to be heading south for many miles to come, so the NW wind will be our friend for a few hours more. Whew... Even while I stuffed another Powerbar Harvest into my gut, it wasn't enough by a longshot. The tailwind would continue to provide the illusion of energy, despite the protest from my gut. Poor food choices the evening before had also caught up, but I was focused ... get to the halfway, and things will improve.

Alex, Terry and Gary were pictures of pacing and control, while I yo-yo'd a bit here and there on Ohio and Tennessee roads before finally arriving at K-68 for the final push west into the increasingly strong cross/headwind.

Ottawa, and the welcome sight of the Casey's there - where Alex and I stop for resupply and restroom. Surprise, there's Randy R., out for a day's ride, and we welcome him to tag along for a bit. While I was quick to complain about the temperatures, I had to remind myself that they were still above normal (!), and everyone was out riding today - so, the more the merrier! Always a treat to stumble upon someone that happens to be headed the same way you are. We mount back up and head towards the next control at Princeton, KS. a few miles south. While this section is also a major highway corridor, the shoulder is nice and wide with well-made and thoughtful rumble strips. Much better... and still a slight tailwind to help. I remember this section from doing the route in July, and the fact that it trends uphill almost the entire way to Princeton. With Alex still fresh and fueled, and me still trying to stay latched to his wheel, I begin to burn through the rest of my reserves - and find myself seldom reaching to the back pockets to put the energy back. Uh-oh...

We reach Princeton to find Terry and Gary (thanks again to the local Ottawa resident that indicated he'd seen cyclists dressed like us heading south, which prompted our departure from the Casey's) hanging out and taking a much-deserved rest. At this point, I'm a little dazed. I take a full four laps of the c-store and for some reason I can't find ANYTHING that looks appetizing - even though I need food. The mild hassle of being a vegetarian jumps up to bite me, as the pizza smells really good -- but it's all with meat. Gads... I finally default to just grabbing something random and buying it, just to keep moving. While the rest of the group has been smart, and has stayed consistent, my follies have caught up. I'm supposed to be the experienced one here, yet the fun of trying to catch Alex and waging personal war on the headwinds has put me into rookie-mistake land. Nobody's fault but my own, the only thing to do is try and rebuild. While the mental toughness training that comes from riding 200k after 200k alone, there is still a need to remind myself that personal pacing is of the utmost importance when I get with a group. Even when he's slow, Alex is fast... and me trying to work on speed in January is foolish, yet, there I was.

In a daze I made a few decisions about clothing, packed a layer onto the rear rack, and made my way back out onto the road. Gary and Terry had left a dozen minutes or so earlier, on the notion that we'd catch them up, and Alex left a little bit after them. It was me and Randy now, and more importantly it was me beginning to admit that I had a problem. My pace began to slip, then my mind... I announced my condition, and shortly after was unable to maintain my speed. John Brown highway spread out before me, there was a slight tailwind... but, there was nothing in the legs but lead. I allowed myself to be upset about it for a couple minutes, then proceeded to engage on-the-road-recovery-plan Alpha. Watch the clock... this will only last fifteen minutes: drink every five... and start eating. You have back-pockets full of rations, and you haven't touched hardly any!!! Get to it... but be careful. I start to slowly feed the giant hole growing in my gut... The last fig newton from the START... and Hammer stuff... every few minutes, just chew and swallow. I watch patiently as Randy advances up the road... then, on the horizon I see yellow safety vests... and it feels like I'll never reach them. Patience... five minutes pass, then ten... a hill... a water tower... Texas Road... a 4-way stop... five more minutes... more food... drink... and the push slowly returns. The problem with this is that there is no resting now: having pushed to the brink, I will spend the rest of the ride putting calories in nearly as fast as my body uses them. My stomach growls furiously as soon as I'm finished swallowing the last bite of whatever is in my mouth... and so it will be for the last half of the ride.

As hard as it is to recover from a near-bonk ON the bike, it is possible... but the key is not getting there in the first place. Keeping in mind that it's far better to keep moving slow than not to move at all, my cadence is in the gutter and my muscles are paying the price - but, I'm moving down the road. Chin up.... finally, even though it was only minutes, I begin to reel the group back in - and eventually we're all together again, just inside the Osawatomie city limits.

We stop together at the Casey's there, refuel and rest a bit - and the mental recovery for me still isn't quite complete: with all the rushing around for food and restroom, I forget to refill my bottles before leaving the c-store. Thankfully, I'd end up having enough to make it to Paola and the next control, but literally to the last sip. Ugh. "Get it together, 'dude!", I scold myself. I feel better leaving Osawatomie than I had leaving Princeton - but not quite 100%. I pull the group out of town, over a group of cool bridges over various creeks and rivers - startling a deer with my loose rendition of some random Elvis tunes that make it past my lips, as my mood recovers. The pace isn't epic - but it's all I've got. Not even a train flyby to cheer me up today... but, I'm still with a group, and it's a great feeling - and turning into a great day. The harrowing feeling of turning north into a waiting headwind for the entire last leg of the ride is held at arms length... the wind, quietly to myself, isn't THAT bad... the sun is out, there are birds heard nearby, and though content to leave nearly everything on despite the warmer temps, I still unzip a little as we turn from north to east in direction.

The group breaks up a little again as my legs remind me that we're not fully "back" yet - but no matter... even the horn of a local attempting to remind us who's road this was (right) can't get me down, but I'm already dreaming of the next stopping point. We make Paola and the next Casey's in good time - refuel, refill bottles (!), and check in. Old KC Road is checked off, and Alex's consistency shows as he and Randy enjoy the day in full stride -- strong riders, both. I, learning my lesson, maintain a sustainable pace and take in the scenery, chat a bit with Gary, and we eventually sorta spread out into our own little realms as we clear Hillsdale and advance towards Spring Hill. I lose track of Randy, as he peels off for home somewhere in here, and Alex and I regroup at the Casey's store at the north end of town.

Another quick refuel here, and discussions about my condition. Alex is a class act... a super strong rider, content to hammer it out at the front, he encourages me, gives a few pointers to which I am always open (be not fooled: whether it's your 120th brevet, or 4th, there is always something to learn - always listen). Cycling 101... and it's something I perhaps needed to hear: keeping my cadence up. Part of my riding style falls back to my days of riding fixed gear - my natural cadence is probably somewhere in the 60-70 range... and that, combined with my caloric shortcomings, was resulting in fatigue and inability to push. Had I actually been ON a fixed gear today, I might have suffered more... who knows... but now, to get "back in the game" and finish strong, I needed to rev it up a little. Long story short, it worked. Despite Alex's promise to finish together, no matter my condition, my refueling and conscious effort to keep the cadence higher resulted in him not having to worry about slowing down and waiting for me.

The last 20 miles were stellar for me, considering. Alex could have, at any time I'm sure, jumped off the front and finished more quickly -- but he stayed with me. I adopted a plan to continue through the rest of my rations and put them IN my body instead of carrying them around in my pockets. I drank every 5 minutes, ate every 15... and combined with the cadence drills, I managed to stay with Alex and not limp along like I might have had I been solo... and, to boot, we managed to work our way through Olathe and then into Shawnee, finally catching sight of Gary and Terry up the road on Renner Blvd. It looked like we might all finish as a group after all! Maybe there's something to this whole "90-100 RPM bologna", I thought to myself... (doy, science has proven this is where cyclists are most efficient, yet I still fall into the gear-masher camp more often than not). Post-ride.... surprise, surprise, my joints aren't as sore, and I don't feel destroyed. Hmm. Interesting. Thanks, Alex, for reminding me of this basic endurance cycling tip, and helping keep me motivated. A true class act, even as I suggested back on Ridgeview Road "if you happen to get up the road away from me....", he interrupts... "no, no, we finish together..." - and so we did.

We caught up to Gary near 95th Street on Renner, just short of making the green light that Terry advanced up the road through, and stayed roughly together through the carnival of roundabouts prior to 87th Street, to finally stop there at a red light and witness a terrific sunset in the making over our left shoulders. Not bad at all... with the trials of the wind, and my personal issues, to finish as a group, on a winter ride, without freezing to death, and without hardly needing to worry about turning the lights on at the end... not a bad showing at all! Figuring in the delay at the first control due to the clock being off, we nearly completed the thing inside ten hours - which is great! Whether it had taken hours more, I don't care... because I finished it with friends, on what had turned out to be a great day. Mixed feelings that I might have about the mid-ride challenges aside, all in all - a success for January, and learned a few things about myself ... even if the group-ride-forget-everything factor that jumps up on me occasionally is something you'd think I'd have squared away by now. Proof that there is indeed always something to learn, even if it's RE-learning. We all dodged a bullet, weather-wise... and I was lucky enough to have a strong rider like Alex nearby when I needed him, dodging a personal bullet. I probably would have still finished, but it wouldn't have been with style and resulting smile, that's for sure.

Many thanks to Alex, Gary, Terry and Randy for sharing the ride!

Songs in my head:

There weren't many today... but, interestingly they were loudest when my stomach and ability to push were lowest:

Adele - Someone Like You <- popular radio tripe, perhaps - but this girl can sing, don't care who you are.

Ramblin' Man - Allman Brothers <- the foundry of the modern jam-band, nobody jams and runs riffs like these guys, IMHO.

The Big Bang Theory - The Bare-Naked Ladies <-- after watching a DVR marathon of this show, it doesn't take long for the theme song to take hold... and I honestly, in my own little geeky way, can't think of someplace I'd rather find myself than at Comic-Con '10 when this happened. As a BNL fan and a BBT fan, how freakin' cool would this have been???

I know there were others... but they were lost somehow between then and now...

So, that's all folks!

See you in February!

Over the hump

2012-01-14T18:58:00.001-06:00

Officially completed 200k #7 this evening... so, one step closer, and past halfway... feels good, but brain is a little scrambled: a tough day, conditions-wise, and compounded by some personal mistakes. They can't all go perfectly, right? More to come, as usual --- good to be finished... time for food, and rest. Stay tuned...

Even more winter kit considerations

2012-01-07T16:56:00.001-06:00

Even though it's been unseasonably warm here, I'm still preparing myself and gear for more "winter-like" riding - which is sure to come.
The process is reminding me of some things I've read lately, some other things discovered along the way, that bear passing along.
I touched on this recently in a post on preparing for winter riding, so here's a few additions:

While there are lots of ways around the problem, I personally have had issues on occasion trying to use CO2 inflators when it's colder out, specifically when it gets below freezing. Results may vary, and simply warming them up in a back pocket can solve the issue - but, for a lot more reasons than just "cold", I use a frame pump almost exclusively. I do keep a couple inflators in the seat bag to get moving quicker when commuting - but for brevets I don't like the idea of running out of air... and it has happened to me before. If you run CO2 exclusively, and there's nothing wrong with that - don't get me wrong - you might want to carry along a small, "real" pump in the winter: frame, bottle-cage style, or pocket-sized... but something that can get you moving again on that especially challenging day. There are even some clever models that are designed to do both - and while I haven't tried one of them specifically, it's a slick idea.

However, even "real" pumps have their problems . (I keep putting "real" in quotes, because the only real pump is a FLOOR pump... and we're not carrying those on rides, right?)

So, yes: even pumps can have issues in the cold: from the Bike Hacks blog, this post is worth a look. The pump in the post looks a lot like mine, possibly a Blackburn... maybe a Topeak. In most cases, your local shop may (call ahead) have a small-parts kit supplied by these manufacturers to support quick warranty claims. Take advantage of this, and offer to pay for the small bits it if you don't REALLY need it. But, replacement seals, o-rings, pumphead caps for your model are good things to have spares of... they weigh very little and can be stashed in a seatbag kit with ease. You may never need them, but it's nice when they're there! On the subject of air, another thing I keep in the seat bag is a Presta-to-Schrader adapter for things like air compressors at gas stations. While not recommended unless you're careful (for small volume road tires), at least you have a lot of different ways to put air back into a tube. This is all part of the mantra of successful commuting or randonneuring: preventing that "come get me" phone call. Redundancy is good...

Of course, if we're talking about air we're talking about the other "F word", and while you may be adept at wrestling a tire on and off a rim when it's warm outside, making quick work of roadside repairs is paramount in colder temperatures. You'll want to make things easy on yourself, and your hands. Ever notice that working on anything in the cold makes things like screwdrivers slipping, pliers pinching, bumping your knuckles against something hard... the cold seems to make it all hurt more, right? Part of avoiding frustration, do-overs, and pinched fingers involves the right tire lever. There are many different tire levers available, but the mechanic's choice has long been the Quik Stik. Probably muttered just as often as "where's my 5mm Allen wrench?" is "who took my Quik Stik?". Better than three of any other lever, in my opinion, the Quik Stik is gold. Doesn't mar rims, doesn't pinch tubes, great leverage, super strong, light, fast, simple. Get one. Get two: one for home, one for the seat-bag. Seatbag too short for it? Trim down the handle, and take it along. ANY leverage is good on the roadside in the cold. Don't fumble with the usual three sub-par levers... get ONE good one. The link is to Amazon, but I know a good local shop that carries these by the bucket in a variety of colors.

Reach that cycling mileage goal in 2011? Awesome! Congrats! Your cyclo'puter is probably exhausted, though... if your display is dimming lately (like mine) it's a good time to consider new batteries before your next big ride. Sure, sure, not a deal killer -- if you're commuting home and the computer dies the world will still turn on its axis. However, in the miles-to-next-turn world of randonneuring, it could be a big deal - especially on an unfamiliar route. As a backup plan here, wear a wristwatch. If nothing else, you'll know if you're inside the time limits to the next control, you can generally gauge your personal average speed and make an educated guess as to how far you've ridden between turns, and you can even use it for direction finding if the sun is out. Phones these days are pretty "smart", and you can probably grab an "app for that" in a pinch... but, I'd rather save my phone battery for when I truly need it. Of course, if you're running a new-fangled GPS computer of some sort, none of this is relevant - but I still prefer getting 12 months from a battery, rather than 12 hours.

Bonk rations. I always carry an extra energy gel in my seatbag. You never know when you might need a little pick-me-up or boost if you run out of food or fumble your pocket rations onto the highway. Like anything else in the seatbag I don't usually have to resort to using it, so when I checked my seat bag contents last month I found it to be reallly expired... well, yeah, it wouldn't have killed me, but it would have been a little thick and gross at best. So, this is a good time to rotate your rations! Next time you hit the shop for resupply, by an extra pack of a flavor you love, stash it in your seatbag, and forget about it. When that c-store that's "always open" is suddenly closed on a long ride, you'll be glad you did. Better? Stash two: one for your riding buddy. A good ride-guide will show you a great road and a cool scenic overlook... a master ride-guide will surprise you with a snack when you unexpectedly run out.

Riding master you will become... yesss... </Yoda>

I also mentioned "sanity savers" in that other post - something that can make riding, mentally, easier when the distances extend. Keeping cable housings from rattling against one another, keeping seatbag contents silent, keeping your computer itself from jiggling around in its own mount all come to mind. Recently I also performed a few other sanity-saving measures: A VERY small amount of grease applied between the tops of your shoes and the underside of the Velcro straps that fasten them closed... or ratchet straps, what-have-you. It's amazing how noisy shoes can get when pedaling up a hill. A good shoe polish can accomplish the same thing if you have real leather... but most shoes are some kind of synthetic these days. This keeps the places where parts of the shoe meet from binding and "sqw-creaking" under loads.

Keep your cleats "wet" also: Phil Wood grease is still my preference for just about anything bike-related - (except the chain) - it just works, and it stays put. Less can be more, as you don't want to replace little squeaks with a gloppy mess. Small amounts under the "nose" of your cleats, or underneath the pedal bindings where the cleats will click in can help keep things silent and smooth. Sometimes noises pop up while already riding, like after getting caught in a considerable rain-shower. An effective method that works when cleat noises materialize out on the road: lip-balm. It's waxy, it's cheap, it stays put. It's great to take along for your lips in winter anyways, so if you have some in your pack, roll out some excess from the familiar, tiny tube and remove a glob with your finger... apply to the cleat where it meets the pedal, or, to the pedal directly - either way, the annoying cleat noises will soon be gone. While modern, 3-bolt, Look and Shimano plastic road cleats have been updated with high PTFE content at these interfaces, all-metal SPD cleats can still get noisy.

Disclaimer: Grease cleats with caution and at your own risk. You should be pretty familiar with clipless pedal entry and engagement before you go smearing slippery stuff all over your pedals: less is more, even if it guarantees a need for reapplication later. Limit application to the underside of the pedal bindings, not the upper surfaces. You absolutely don't want to make the bottoms of your shoes or the upper surfaces of your pedals slippery to the point of danger. This is especially risky when departing from a traffic light -- sometimes, even after years of use, I sometimes don't QUITE get clipped in... instead of trying to feel around for engagement while coasting across an intersection, I just pedal lightly to get across the intersection and out of traffic, and worry about fully clipping in once across. Take care not to get grease or even lip balm on the tread of your shoes, the pedal body, or the bottom surface of the cleat which doesn't actually contact the pedal. Clip in securely before giving it the beans, lest you slip and take a veneer of your shin.

These tips aren't only handy for winter riding - this is just a good time of year to go through your stuff.

I hope you found something useful here!

Now...dress warm... go ride! Enjoy!

Unbelievable weather

2012-01-05T10:59:00.001-06:00

While I'm sure by posting this I'm looking weather-death in the face and spitting, I simply can't believe the weather we've been having lately here in eastern Kansas. It's making me a little uneasy heading into yet another weekend where temperatures are set nearly 20 degrees above normal for this time of year -- and strangely, it's not that windy... which is usually a partner to unseasonable temps in this part of the country. I keep waiting for winters "other shoe" to drop. Diving into weather-geek mode for a moment - despite the low sun angle and the shorter period of daylight, we're looking at mid-60's today. In January. In Kansas. That's 30 degrees above normal. I mean ... I can't remember the last time...(which is why NOAA has climate data, so I don't HAVE to remember). Checking climatalogical data, the record for this date was set at 68ºF in 1956... and we have a slim chance of beating that today. Shorts and short sleeves in January for the commute home?

As much as I like to say "back in aught-three....", I'm compelled to here for contrast -- because back in '03 I recorded my coldest commute EVER, at minus-9ºF, on a dark January 23rd night. To think that I'd be riding home THIS evening without so much as something to cover my ears is amazing... but I'm certainly not complaining! That's Kansas, however -- the state of extremes: that SAME YEAR, only two weeks earlier on January 8th, 2003, we broke the HIGH record of 71ºF. Anything is possible...and as they say, if you don't like the weather, wait.

I really should have scheduled January's R-12 ride for THIS week... dangit... Instead, I'm on for the 14th, which is still a week away. Quite a bit can and will happen in that coming week, so I'm keeping my fingeres fully crossed. What may instead be on tap is a proper January 200k, however, complete with icy wind and snow -- and to that I say, "bring it". I think the only thing negative about this long run of above-normal temperatures is that it really screws with acclimation. If a cold-snap... even a seasonal return ...awaits for the coming 200k, it'll be tough to get out of the van. It could be WAY, WAY worse... thinking to the last couple of years when we were still crusted over in ice and had snowbanks at every intersection, I need to be cautious what I complain about when it comes to R-12 pursuits in this part of the nation. I still have a project on my list that involves a true "do-it-all" winter brevet machine -- easy-ratio fixed gear, 26" wheels, big-volume tires with studs, fenders, front and rear racks, wide drop bars with Bar Mitts. While I'm certain the current steed will handle just about anything once the roads are treated, the prospect of having a world-beater, no-excuses machine at the ready is exciting, even if it's only for commutes. Right now, a poorly-timed winter storm would put a few nails in the R-12 coffin. I really don't want to have to road-trip south to finish this one... but I suppose I would.

For now, I have to figure out how to store all the layers I wore this morning on the way in, when temps were just above freezing. It's not easy planning for days with 45º temperature swings!!

Roll on, and smile!

Happy New Year

2012-01-02T11:02:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year, everyone!

I've tried to be careful not to construct false drama in previous posts or tease that I might be potentially announcing something here, like a big goal for 2012. I've been scouring websites, calendars, ride lists, yes... but I haven't written any registration fee checks. Probably won't, not quite yet. I'm letting things take their course, in a matter of speaking, and not really setting myself up to stress about anything specific yet, riding-wise.

There are still a lot of frontiers to discover - after all this time on a bike I love the fact that I still - essentially - have only scratched the surface. I have tossed around ideas about my first 1,000km brevet, my first 1,200km, also... but, alas, there are worthwhile things that will stand in the way of qualification for such pursuits. Finding time to get a complete SR-series before June 2nd (the deadline for qualification for most 1,200km grand-randos) will prove tough, since I already know I have to miss a couple key ride dates locally this spring. I know for sure I want to test myself at the 400km level, and really try to make a 600km happen as well - with a secondary goal of riding it straight-through. While I call myself a randonneur, if successful it will only be my 2nd 600km ever. Lots left to discover, indeed.

Further still, no matter what I do on the road bike, I still haven't done any real mountain biking... or 'cross... and haven't ridden fixed gear in over 5-years... and with both kids approaching local MS-ride minimum age limits, my next big thing may involve their first big thing, if the interest holds. While I still have my own goals, I get more excited at the prospect of setting them off on their own journey of self-discovery - and I'll toss out all my own aspirations to help that happen, if it is indeed what THEY want.

Tejas... yeah, yeah.... the ride date is in late September, which is after me and the kids will be back in school next fall. I suppose it could work, but I'd been holding out hope for a true summer date, like in August. It's still on my list - I can't keep defaulting to the notion that races/rides such as these "will always be there"... because (thinking of the defunct Tinbutt race in Oklahoma) sometimes even the best events evaporate after time. I have faith that the successful and highly-active Lone Star Randonneurs group will still be holding the Tejas ultra-events for years to come, but skipping it again is a risk. Like a lot of things in life, waiting for everything to "line up" is a foolish game... there's always going to be an excuse. At some point I'm either going to just DO it, or content myself with letting it go. While part of me still wants that big finishers trophy for the mantle and to say without hesitation that "yes, I'm RAAM-qualified", this year I know I need to be close to home to ensure my kids first few weeks of their first year in middle school come with complete parental support. Quickly as I say that, my wife will remind me that it's not unreasonable to have aspirations for myself while still being a good Dad... so, we'll see what happens.

So, while there may not be a trophy or t-shirt involved, I still have plans and goals for 2012. Lest I forget, if January 14th goes well, I'll be sitting on five-to-go towards R-12... so it isn't as if nothing is going on. After a recent revisit to knee issues after discovering my saddle height had dropped a little.... but the seatpost DIDN'T (saddle drooping?)... my biggest challenge of 2012 may simply be finding a new saddle and breaking it in. Ugh.

The prospect of a whole new year to go after ANY of these things is exciting, no matter what happens!

Heck, I'm riding a bike... how bad can things be?

2011 proved to be a great year. Better than 2010. So the only thing I'm really shooting for is "better than 2011". I got in a great ride with some good folks on the last day of the year to the Cidermill and back - and while I had to get hurried in the end, it was still a great day out. I took the camera, reminded myself to look at something other than that patch of road 10 feet in front of me - so even at-speed I took in some great scenery, old bridges, and after a couple teases finally got a decent dog-chase on Renner Road. That's a good start...

I haven't organized a Saturday AM ride in a while, haven't attended a weekend group ride in a while (aside from yesterday), haven't put together a DSR in a while, haven't attended a multi-day tour in a while... there's lots to do... trying to pick ONE thing, right now... nah. I don't need any resolutions - because I'm having a pretty good time already, feeling good... just keep it going, and the rest will come. That'll do for now.

In any case, Happy New Year!

Identity and reason

2011-12-26T15:25:00.001-06:00

After viewing a great many videos and reading texts on cycling long distances, whether it be RAAM or P-B-P, cyclists taking part were asked at some point "why they are doing this". A great many took pause while trying to come up with an answer. Many were unable to. Sometimes we need someone else to tell us. I, myself, am not sure I could come up with anything at quick notice. I'm not sure any of us NEED to - but the truth lies somewhere in the notion that long distance cyclists are either riding away from, or towards, something. Whether any of us figure out what that "something" is in our lifetimes isn't necessarily as important as continuing the search - and remembering to keep it fun.

Fun is important. A great many friends over the years have taught me how to look more closely, carefully, when I'd lost my way. I have learned to laugh in the face of interminable distances. I have found the simple joy in a hot cup of coffee. I have learned that there is "tired", and there is "600k tired". I have shook hands with new friends at the end of seemingly endless torture, and have smiled despite pain, sores, aches, fatigue -- fatigue so deep you find yourself giggling one second, and then for no reason, crying. I haven't always seen the roadside daisies while on my search, the cool old bridge or building or bird - but I have learned to look, even to stop. I have learned that what lies at the end of this long string of roads is not as important as what I learn on the way, what I see, what I smile about, what I share with others while they make their search. While there are receipts and stamps and route cards, it's not about the clock or the miles or the course record. It's also not about beating the other guy... yet, if you've ridden with me, you know that for some reason I still like a good rabbit. Sometimes you need the comfort of the group... sometimes you need the silence of solitude between groups. It's deeper than all that, though.

I have watched in amazement the exploits of those making it back to Paris before some riders even reach Brest. I remember hearing of riders making the end of the MS-150 before the lunch stop even opened - and remember letting personal comparison dictate my level of enjoyment. I have read amazing tales of near-death experiences turned completely around into stories of triumph over odds, and have thought less of myself for giving in to pain too easily. I'm sure there is happiness there in those tales of remarkable sporting ability, but more often than not I find myself questioning whether or not they're having a good time - watching hurried control mayhem, yelling, people shoving food into their faces, clothing refreshed, creams and lotions applied -- and watching them be shoved back into motion, off the bike for only minutes. I seldom see a smile. I have seen the strongest riders stop, dozens of hours in the lead, alone - just stopping, quitting, because there is no competition. For them, the competition is the "why"... and when that "why" is removed, they no longer know why they are there. One could call "cop-out" on me, or similar... but, I HAVE to be able to smile... I know that about myself. Things really do become harder when I'm not having fun. Everyone measures "fun" in their own way, all have their own facial cues, quirks... but, watching those videos, looking at their eyes... I'm not sure I can see it.

Others have their bodies give out before they find what they seek... and it make my heart heavy to see a strong athlete reduced to tears because their will is still so strong, yet the physical pain is too great. I have seen others slip into fatigue, and the clock is unkind. Hours from the next control with only minutes to get there - for some reason, there is still a smile. Perhaps it hides something, but it is - from my perspective - genuine. They have, on paper, lost... but, they don't crawl into the van. They refuse the SAG. Without any reason greater than "it's a nice day, and it'd be a shame to waste it," they continue pedaling towards Paris. There will be no prize, there may not even be a single soul applauding them home... but they continue. If the search consumes you, then whatever you find at the end could be bittersweet, hollow, anti-climactic, or worse... unsatisfying... but for these, I don't think such a fate awaits them at their own "finish". There is no final stamp, no appearance in the finishers list, no fanfare... but they have still, for themselves, finished. It's the character of these brave, heroic riders that I aspire to most of all.

After much personal toil, internal arguments, personal monologues - I am finally okay if I never have my name associated with any such amazing feat. It's not as simple as saying I've somehow suddenly FOUND something and that I no longer need to search... I know that what I'm searching for still doesn't have a name, or association, or direct example "just like so-and-so did"... I don't need to beat that record, best that time, ride a few meters farther than Tom, Dick, or Harry. I just need to relax, and enjoy the search itself. If I happen to beat "70-hours", or shave off a few minutes from "last months ride", then great... but confusing those goals with THE goal can sap out the fun. I still have drive.. drive that keeps me from seconds at the dinner table, drive that keeps me working out these days, drive that helps me squeeze out a little more speed - just to ensure that I'm giving anything I attempt my level-best... but, without keeping in touch with who I am, without having a good time at it ... what's any of it worth, really? Medals will be stored away, stories written... but at the end, will I be happy with ME?

Amazing things can still happen when you aren't trying so hard. That's not the same as giving up. I'm not giving up on anything. No sir. I take my cycling seriously... but this is a reminder to not take it TOO seriously. I find myself teetering on that edge this time of year, when getting up the motivation to ride is harder than it is in August for example. I pick my dates, send my emails, but then make the mistake of looking at ridiculously long-term weather forecasts. They aren't reliable, my logos knows this - yet, I still am compelled to look, and wonder. What if its cold? What if it rains? What if it isn't PERFECT??? I start to talk myself out of rides, weeks before they arrive. Ultimately, I can't control the weather. I can't let the weather control me, or my thoughts or mood, in the days leading up to the next ride. Who am I to second-guess nature's will, or the Creator's for that matter? What if I don't even realize that I NEED a ride in poor weather? Maybe it's the BEST thing for me? Let go... relax... keep it fun! After all, the worst weather can make for the best story.

The night before the December 200k, as I checked the alarm clock for the last time, clicked off the bed table lamp, and pulled the covers up to my chin, I asked the wife, "why am I doing this?" I knew that cold temps awaited, I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I wasn't sure I was ready for personal discovery. Doubt... anxiety...

"You're doing this because you love it, remember?"

She's always right, you know. I slept pretty good after that.

Sure enough a few hours later on a dark, cold road - I managed a smile, through the iced-over beard and all.

Yep... after all these years, all these miles, I'm still having fun.

The more I remain in touch with that, the farther I can go.

Episode VI: Return of the Ice-Face

2011-12-20T10:25:00.001-06:00

The normally never-considered vents on the tops of my shoes fill with freezing cold air as I rush down the first hill towards the river.

"Holy.... forget this...."

I check my six, touch the brakes, and turn the bike around. This is ridiculous.

Not quitting... just, for the first time ever, turning around for the van and the duffel-bag-of-plenty inside.

My first rule on preparing for long rides in the cold when you have to drive to the start location: pack EVERYTHING.

This morning, I'm not even sure it was twenty degrees. Add in the manufactured wind-chill created by cycling through the pre-dawn air and there was no WAY I was going to wait for the usual mile-three warm-up. I wanted to be warm, but NOW.

Checked-in already at the QuikTrip up the hill, I didn't much care that I was burning a little clock. Even the van looked surprised to see me back so quick. (yeah.) I fished out the keys from the seat bag and went diving for the few remaining layers that I didn't already have on my body. Mittens, check... Shoe covers, check... lock, slam, keys stowed, zip, zip, zip, gloves on, ROLL! ...MUCH better... now, to get this 200k started already!!!

This time out, it's the "All's Wellsville" route, starting in Kansas City, KS., passing through Edwardsville, Bonner Springs, near DeSoto, Linwood, Eudora, near Hesper, Clearfield, Le Loup, passing near Peoria, and finally the turn-around in Ottawa, KS. It's an interesting route ... flat in most places, which - honestly - bores me to tears. It's good training, however: training for the mind. Flat roads for me provide that anxious feeling like "you'll never get there" ...a feeling I need to learn to block out if I'm to pursue longer distances in a few short months. It's a great route, honestly, as are all of the KCUC offerings. I just have my favorites, that's for sure - but, I'm making a concerted effort to add variety to my R-12 run this time out as well as try routes that I wouldn't normally pick. It helps me hone my control routine in a variety of settings, prepares me for varied terrain, and keeps the scenery fresh.

For the moment, scenery isn't really a concern. It's dark. It's flargin' freeeezing. Without the normal bank thermometer signboard near the start location I don't have a way to confirm it for sure, but this may well be my coldest 200k start - at least in recent memory: the Knob Noster 200k comes to mind. The forecast changed hourly the day before, finally showing the mercury bottoming at around 20ºF. That was at the start location, however: farther along the route down in the Kansas River valley the temperature was set in the mid-teens. It surely felt like it - and, it was very humid. Frost everywhere, reflecting my lone headlight beam back in mystical shimmering sparkles as I rolled along K-32. Strange images, though... frosty dead possum.... frosty dead rabbit... frosty discarded McDonald's bag... and myriad other unidentifiable bits of roadside trash all rendered sparkly and magical by the fairy ice queen. Weird.

I grin at myself, and my facial hair resists... confirming that the ice beard has begun. Yikes... so far this year, I haven't even had that happen on a commute - so it's remarkably cold and wet up here by the river, my breath condensing instantly, flying back onto my face and freezing in place.

"Just take it easy"...

I'm not in a hurry to the first control - just making circles. I'm approaching the third month of "the new shoes", and lately I've been feeling the indications of possible over-training in my joints. This happened with the last shoes, and the ones before that. Time. Patience. Yet - in typical dude fashion, it'd be on my mind practically all day, just as it was in the 72-hours leading up to the start. The weight of willpower not to change something for the sake of "solving" a problem is a weight I don't wish on anyone. I exchange the hassle of temporary discomfort with the self-imposed burden of trying to find a solution for it - wherein I create more issues. Rinse, Repeat. Lock away your tools, dude. Ride it out. It's not pain... it's "change".

An early morning freight train passes me, blows its horn. This route is another rail-fan opportunity for me - nothing quite like combining two of my passions into one activity! I leave the lights of Bonner Springs behind and drop onto Loring Road, and though it's not technically "the old highway" it has that feel of ancient concrete as it parallels the Union Pacific railroad tracks, finally dead-ending right after I turn west on Loring Road's extension.

Despite the cold, I find myself dressed perfectly after adding the layers at the van. Summer cycling gear you almost can't get wrong, but COLD weather cycling gear can be a tricky thing. I've touched on this in other posts - true cold-use items, compared to chilly-use items that are marketed as cold weather cycling gear. While I like to keep things generic in these pages and not call out one brand or another, I feel compelled to here because of the experience I've had with their products over the past four years. That brand is Craft. All of the information you'd ever want is on their site, so I won't repeat it here - but, simply, when it comes to winter cycling I don't look to anyone else. Comfort like this comes at a premium price, and truth be told it's taken me years to individually amass the base layers, the jersey, the warmers, the head covers, the shoe covers ... but, each step has brought me closer to a perfect winter kit for long distances. Again, as I've stated many times, these particular posts are based around long-distance fitness cycling. For commutes, man, I've seen and used it all - and you can stay warm in hundreds of ways with little to no additional expense above what you'd normally spend to stay warm OFF of a bicycle. For long-distance, cumulative, fitness-oriented efforts where technical clothing becomes more important, however, there is simply no substitute for the good stuff when it comes to cold weather. Even if you can only swing one of their long-sleeve base layers, it will change your entire outlook on winter riding. Like me, you will find it remarkable how FEW layers you end up wearing on a really cold ride. The warmth and moisture transfer factors are staggering. Okay, that's my product plug for the day. Craft. Insist on it.

For long-time readers - yes, I still LOVE wool stuff. For rainy rides down to freezing, there's no substitute -- but when it's really cold I've found myself more comfortable if I stay drier. Wool insulates terrifically when it's wet - so if you KNOW you're going to be wet, it's perfect... like in the rain. When it gets very cold out, however, wool can hold onto sweat too long in my experience - and when cooling down at a control, I find myself eventually shivering as a result. The Craft stuff seems to pull moisture away from skin faster than anything I've ever used - it dries faster on the clothes line than anything else I own. The fabric, the weave - there's something to it, definitely. I would have thought evaporative cooling would create the opposite effect, but the Craft stuff is very warm as a result. Problem is - it has to STAY cold for the Craft stuff to be "perfect". If it gets warm, you'll get too hot. Wool still rules in the arena of temperature range - proven LAST month when on the Super Big Gulp route: a ride that started in the upper 20's, and ended up in the mid 60's... but I barely had to shed any layers, being comfortable in my wool togs all day. If you could only spend the money on ONE kit to rando in... because of that flexibility... it'd still probably have to be wool.

Meanwhile, on Loring Road, in a vacuum at sea-level, when vehicle A is travelling eastbound at 55 MPH, and vehicle B is travelling westbound at 55 MPH, bicycle Z will intersect with both vehicle A and B at exactly point X, where the width of the shoulder-less road shall be the width of (A+B+Z)-3 ft., causing vehicle B to slow to bicycle Z's speed, while the combined effect of reflective gear and shadows will cause approaching vehicle A to needlessly slow to vehicle B's speed at location X, which equals "horn". Crap. Of all the variables in all the world... at O'dark-thirty on some random road, how come the lone cyclist is always, eventually, found by two random cars travelling in opposite directions at the same time??? Finding the Higgs Bozeon (Boson?) can't be as important as figuring out this chaotic pattern [I find the former spelling more "scientific", as it doesn't conjure images of the key to universal mechanics being strapped to the back of a giant mid-western grazing quadriped, the mighty and elusive Higgs Bison].

Finally, some hills! Staying ever wary of my intention to take it easy for joint's sake, and to take it easy to avoid overheating, the hills are still welcome. I arrive at the end of this lovely road and pause for a nature break... marveling at the cascade of steam passing through my headlight beam. Cold out here. Stars are gorgeous... dogs barking in the distance... a train horn... gotta keep moving! It crosses my mind that if I simply turned back from here, I'd still have a nice 30 mile ride in the bag. Pah... sure, this isn't easy, but easy is boring. Besides...the first control has coffee.

Mmmm, coffee....

At this point, even my insulated water bottles are resisting the day. I manage to extract a few more drinks - far less than I'm probably requiring, but it'll have to do. They're almost frozen solid.

I give the girl working the c-store a bit of an interesting scene. She pauses briefly from her store-opening register routine to consider me, my clothing, my iced-over face, my numb-tongued requests for time and initials in the appropriate brevet-card box. Surely a sight... deep in the haze of teenage I'm-too-cool-for-anything-to-shock-me, I still manage to get a glimmer of confusion to show up behind her eyes while I fumble through my back pockets, punch data into my phone, extract calories from various baggies and plastic tubes, fill bottles with hot water, only to then disappear back into the cold darkness outside the frosted-over front door. Too interested to completely ignore me, but not interested enough to ask - the fate of most non-randonneurs peering into a world that they'll likely never understand; made worse by participants like myself that find it difficult to come up with a quick explanation that doesn't immediately raise more questions.

The next few dozen miles fade and blur into a mural of a frosty, brilliant sunrise over brown fields and images of a lone cyclist - the only spot in the scene nearly as-bright as the rising sun - making his way across the valley crossing the Kansas River, while birds of prey begin the morning hunt overhead. Countless pedal revolutions, sips of water, insertion of calories, songs, movie quotes, interesting barns and buildings, trees and cemeteries. Euroda, Clearfield, Wellsville.... a few stops here and there to rest the legs, take in the views. These long, cold, solo rides don't do much for drama or storytelling -- marked only by mile-posts, bottles emptied and filled, and the subtle twitch you can feel when the temperature finally peeks above freezing. The sky is a brilliant blue, the sun is there... but its warmth is fleeting. I roll along in a dream state - sounds muffled by covered ears. Mere glances to the horizon feel like minutes - images captured on the landscape of my mind, held there, considered for miles while I carve a tiny envelope through the icy air. Everything is happening slowly, and I'm on autopilot.

Weird... a frosted-over dead coyote... that's a first.... I did SEE that, didn't I??

I didn't check my average at the first control, but - interestingly - each subsequent stop since shows a small tick upward in overall speed. It's difficult enough riding in the off-season. There are no thoughts towards personal-bests, only survival of the conditions. I have no expectations this day - just to finish. However, I'm pleasing myself with the continued upward trend displayed on my cyclometer. It's a good indication that the work I've done since July is paying off: the weights, the LT sessions, cross-training, diet -- all culminating in a decent performance even without conscious effort towards a number or goal. My overall goal this fall was to increase my cruising speed - to get back to the point that even when I'm dog-tired I'm still riding consistently without having to think about pushing. In 2003, that speed was in the 18's. In 2008, that speed had dropped into the 14's. Now... we're back in the 16's... Getting there... slowly. This is good for the to-be-chosen "big goal" for 2012. I'm also reaching a point where mentally I can unplug a bit - instead of lamenting about the length of a road or how-long to the next whatever, I find myself just "showing up" at turns - all while still being able to enjoy the passing scenery. Hard to describe - but I'm liking where I am at the moment, and where I'm headed.

Pizza, cheesy potato bites, more Perpetuem Solids from Hammer Nutrition, water, water, water.... I ate like a pig at the halfway. It's been stated by nearly every outdoor publication you can get your hands on: winter sports burn more calories. Here, here. This is an area I normally fall short in - and it's especially prevalent in winter cycling where (in my case) most of my on-bike calories are stashed where they aren't easily reached - especially with clumsy gloves and mitts. While I've played with the idea before in many different incarnations, I always - eventually - get rid of the handlebar bag. One of these days I'll grow up a little...but, I think my opinions will change once I have an opportunity to set one up correctly, with a good front rack and decalleur - mounting it low, out of the way. For now, I simply stop more often, unzip a few layers, and go fishing in my back pockets. At the controls, it's food-game ON.

At Ottawa, The sun is out - it's bright... frost is melting off the roof of the Casey's in Ottawa and dripping down onto the sidewalk around me while I chow down, packing this and that onto the rear rack. It's finally warm enough to shed some protection, and the much needed layers I grabbed at the last minute finally get retired. It's certainly no tropical paradise, but it's above freezing - and that's PERFECT weather as far as I'm concerned. Comfortably full, I finally declare the ride "halfway done" and point the bike east on K-68 for the return leg.

I mentally discard the highway section by playing "what the ____ is that noise??!" with my bike.

This actually continues all the way back to Wellsville, where-in I spend perhaps an hour not thinking about saddle comfort or my legs or knees or anything... because I'm trying to find that rattle. This involves keeping one hand on the 'bars, while the other roams from cable to cable, fender, light, wire, brake lever, pump, rear rack, helmet strap, zipper pull, computer mount.... WHERE ARE YOU COMING FROM?!

rattle/rattle

It brings me to the subject of "sanity savers".

What's that? Some of you know... but for others: those seemingly ridiculous rubber donuts that fit over your top-tube routed brake cable? That cleverly placed bit of electrical tape that prevents two crossing shift cables from rubbing? That re-purposed bit of taillight bracket shim that keeps a frame-pump quiet? Wrapping everything in your seatbag in shop rags, to ensure NOTHING can rattle or shake? There are roads out there that make these things necessary, even on a properly tire'd steel framed bicycle. There are a few of those roads on this route. It may not seem like a big deal - but when your brain runs out of things to focus on, deep into hour seven of your next ride, that tiny rattle that you can't find will drive you completely, Edgar Allen Poe, Chinese water torture, Dumb and Dumber road-trip, INSANE.

Cut to a picturesque scene of a country lane from the point of view of a local cow, and in the distance the silhouette of a cyclist dismounting his bicycle in a scream of fury and defeat, tossing it into the adjacent ditch and shouting "make it stop" at the heavens. The cow looks on, confused, but continues chewing - raising his bovine eyebrow in curiosity.

Marveling at my ever-increasing (if you can count 0.1 MPH at each stop "marvel-worthy") average speed, I notice that the wind is beginning to shift - as forecast. I'm truly blessed... this, for the 2nd month in a row, was another of the fabled and (now-not-so) ultra-rare double tailwind events. Thank the maker... but, man, I am SO gonna pay for this next month. My zippers are a little bit lower, my smile a little bit wider as I settle into a good rhythm heading northbound on Tennessee Road towards Le Loup, KS. It's only five miles, but it always comes across as a bit of a death-slog. This is where the "80-mile wall" starts to show up... but, today, it is a joy. Crystalline skies, and approaching the T-intersection at the northern end I catch a container train heading NE, its brightly painted boxes contrasting nicely against the dead hillside behind them. Wellsville is next... keep moving.

I tango a bit with I-35 and finally make the bricked streets of Wellsville and the welcome sight of another Casey's. Today, while my rolling average is good, I'm still not passing up any opportunity to get off the bike and step inside for a few minutes - control or no control. Apparently, Wellsville has a town ritual - and today, I'm standing right underneath it, at noon, when it happens. Perched about halfway up the superstructure of the city water tower is a civil defense siren... and that water tower is directly behind the Casey's. I'm literally 20 feet from the base of one of its legs. It's SO loud, that it encompasses my senses fully - vibrating my entire body. It's only a 2-second long burst, but it spins back down to idle passing through every conceivable frequency - from spine tickling to teeth chattering... it will find your head's resonant frequency and exploit it. Apparently, they do this every day at high noon. Some towns have nice church bells, or a clock tower. Wellsville has a giant WWII-era air-raid siren. Scared the living daylights out of me. Right when quiet was restored, I swear I heard muffled, maniacal laughter coming from the operations center at city-hall... "we got another one!"

Sound the alarm... cyclist comin'....

Fast-forward 15 miles, and I'm back at Eudora... the QwikStop, and another personal stop. Average speed ticked up another notch... more water refills.... only 30 miles to go! I cross the Kansas River again, across railroad tracks and up the ridge ... finally some more climbing ... to K-32, and then back to Linwood, where I manage to catch the same girl working the counter as earlier that morning. She's right at the end of her shift, but I still manage to get matching initials scribbled in the 1st and 2nd-to-last boxes on my route card. Bonus! My summertime mark of trying for under 10-hours total is slipping into impossibility, but I'm still pleased considering that was never even a thought for this ride. I calorie-up a little for the last 20-mile or so shot ... which, I swear, always seems like WAY more than just 20 miles.

I dance with a couple more trains along Golden Road north of DeSoto, KS., climb up the big hill on 158th street that takes me back to Loring Road for more interesting climbing and a nice, long descent back down to river-level. More trains, and FINALLY... confirming that I'm not completely nuts, I see another cyclist! We exchange waves across the lane as we pass each other head-on -- big thumbs-up to the guy in the red jacket, whoever you are. There must be some cosmic significance to that part of Loring Road, because it's almost exactly where the pre-dawn chaos-theory experiment happened nearly 10-hours earlier. Bonner Springs city limits come into view, and afternoon traffic. It's not too terrible, but I manage to catch every red light through town. Nothing like traffic-light intervals after 110 miles are in your legs!

I check off the landmarks... K-7, the nasty railroad crossing, the shoulder disappears, then reappears again, Sonic, gas station, I-435, Edwardsville...

Another random and poorly timed nature-break opportunity beckons... ugh!! Pick you battles, dude... you're WELL hydrated today! It's moments like these where I'd much prefer a little solitude and some shrubs... but, alas, gas-station loo it is. I like a certain kind of misery -- but sitting on a full bladder while tackling the hills that await on 78th street isn't my kinda treat.

Climbing away from the Kaw cut towards I-70 to the finish is a mean way to end 127 miles of riding. I feel fresh, spirited - despite a few troublesome cramps and yanks in the calf area of each leg... more growing pains from the new shoes, no doubt... no panicking allowed. Climb! Don't think about the pedal stroke... just let it happen! More traffic awaits near the motel finish - and I have to ride past the van again to get the last box checked at the QuikTrip. I catch each red light near the highway, again... ugh.... tick-tock: but it's only time. This one's done, effectively... I can sit at these lights for hours and still finish.... and it seems like it takes that long!!! GREEN! GO!!!

Perhaps a more desolate route for January? Second month in a row I've ended a 200k in the throes of afternoon traffic. Ugh.

Said with a grain of salt, of course ... the GOOD thing about such routes in winter, if you need shelter and services, they're there.

Maybe I can gut out the traffic... maybe.

QuikTrip, a bottle of chocolate milk for the road, a final receipt, a final signature... and one final encounter:

"you ridin' across the country or somethin?" from a local gent, also checking out.

"mmm, no - but, this is like a training ride for stuff like that, I suppose. Someday, someday..."

"well, I was behind ya in traffic back there trying to figure out what "randonneurs" meant..." (thanks, French people)

It was a neat encounter with an unlikely party - which is one of the things that makes these rides so interesting. The people you sometimes meet, never who you'd expect to talk to about it with you, and they are always genuinely interested, fascinated... and sometimes as confused about our motivations as WE are when it comes to explaining that one, lingering question of "WHY?"

...heck, if I knew WHY, I don't think I'd be out here looking for it...

That about sums it up.

Schtuff in my head:

"The Bambi Lazer Collection", with every burp

"The Proctor" scene from the movie "Who's The Man?"

Hell Yes - Beck

Satellites - Doves

Under Cover of Darkness - The Strokes

Harmonicas are Shite - Fila Brazillia

You're So Vain - Carly Simon

Spirits in the Material World - The Police

Thanks for reading!!!

Number Sixx, Nikki!

2011-12-16T17:41:00.001-06:00

Checked off RUSA 200-kilometer ride #6 today, on the "All's Wellsville" route!

So...I'm officially "halfway" to my 2nd R-12 award... that's the current (and so-far, only) goal I've got brewing.

As my rando-mentor would say, "halfway means I know I'll finish..."

Here's hopin' the weather cooperates!

Sure as I type this the forecast for next week includes snow... unsure how much, but it's coming.

I was very hopeful to get this in without dealing with any -- and having scheduled it the 2nd week of November, there was NO way to guarantee that.

Got REAL lucky on timing.... now just have to worry about January and February. Yeesh. Roadtrip???

Got in some good "flatland" training... not a lot of climbing on this one... which, I have to say, yeah... "flat" is not necessarily a GOOD thing to my ears.

A few good climbs in there, though, but a lot of highway time.

Full post coming, in usual fashion with all the goodies.

For now... food, sleep.