A Vicious Cycle

Rant Response.

2010-09-01T13:11:00.005-10:00

A work buddy sent this out...

Funny.
But it struck a nerve.

So, while on a conference call of little import but high viability should I disappear, I responded:

I was hoping for $10.00/gal.

WARNING –

But then again.. I would rather ride than drive.

Maybe.. if people rode a bike for trips under 2 miles.. the infrastructure could be rebuilt with realistic and sustainable transportation.

Maybe children that live ACROSS THE STREET from their school could actually walk the ¼ block to the intersection, and the ¼ block back the other side of the street to their school; instead of taking the bus. No, I’m not kidding.

Children are prohibited from walking to school. (Funny, I remember riding my bike, when the tires were pumped up, else I walked)

Something’s changed and it’s more and more disturbing when you take a moment to think about it.

Obesity rate continue to rise, yet we prohibit children from walking to school? Someone made that decision, right? Some paid official looked at all the data and decided that we should have to drive fat kids to school.

So yeah… $8/gallon! I’m in favor.

Stop giving tax breaks to the large petroleum companies, and give 1% of those to local bike shops. They’d be giving bikes away. Take the other 99% and start building communities where cycling and walking is a realistic option. The more people commute by bike, the lower the price of gas. Why? You ask. Simple. Part of the cost of gas, is a tax that is used to repave and maintain the roads. Cyclists have so negligible an impact on asphalt and concrete as to be dismissed altogether. Don’t get me started on the enormously evil impact that autos have on the environment. I’m not even talking ‘green’, I speaking about the number of deaths caused by auto accidents.

The US has ~306,000,000 people (as of 2009). Guess how many were killed by auto accidents?

33,963

Road Traffic accidents makes the top 10 for causes of death worldwide, year after year.

Since bikes are considered ‘alternative’ transportation, we live in a society built around one of the least effective modes of transportation ever designed. Where I live, there are no sidewalks, the only way to get to the store closest to my house is along a 2 mile stretch of 50 MPH 2 lane with a minimal road edge.

The average person is forced, by the design of the infrastructure to drive a car.

How long do you sit in a car, driving to and from work?

What percentage of your life are you doing… nothing useful. How much do you pay per month on your Car? Gas? Maintenance? Insurance?

So.. we work, to pay for a car to drive to the job. Weird.

It takes less energy to bicycle one mile than it takes to walk a mile. In fact, a bicycle can be up to 5 times more efficient than walking. If we compare the amount of calories burned in bicycling to the number of calories an automobile burns, the difference is astounding. One hundred calories can power a cyclist for three miles, but it would only power a car 280 feet (85 meters)!

Final Argument:

She doesn’t look that fit by sitting in a car.

Go back and look at the chart.

On the other hand.. I’ve been playing with hypermiling… I’m getting 4MPG better than I used just by changing how I drive.

On your left.

Maarburg

Hours to Go.

2008-07-11T19:35:00.002-10:00

I should be sleeping.. but I know that a few of you are watching....

We rode easy today.. was nice.. and mellow.

The Pre-ride panic was similar to last year, but this year.. I'm nervous too.

More details if I survive.

Thanks to those of you that wished me good luck.

Maarburg the Mad.
Entering the Ha Lu Sin Nation

Two Days and Counting

2008-07-09T21:19:00.002-10:00

Yesterday was more of a goof off day.
Spent most of the day hanging out with two of the most fun people I know, ZenLC and Tiff. Pizza, teaching the young'uns how to effectively splash someone in the hotel pool.

Today, on the other hand, was a bit more of a serious ride day.
We headed off to do a two hour ride. The plan was to visit the Morgul-Bismark site. This hill is also known as "The Wall". It was featured, and made famous by the movie American Flyers. It's the finish line.
About 20 minutes into the ride, ZenLC asks "Up or down The Wall." I'm no dummy, I said "Up."
:)
We rode a bit more to get to the base and took a break. Once we started, Tiff (though complaining that she didn't feel all that well) took off and ascended the wall with much poise. ZenLC wasn't too far behind her. I rode at my pace, which is to say that I was considerably farther back.

It's a hard climb, and it did wonderful things for my confidence for a finish at this years Triple Bypass.

I really enjoy getting the chance to ride with ZenLC and Tiff. Sure wish they lived closer.

We capped the day off with a blues/jazz concert in the park. Very nice.
Back at homebase.. it was time to work on the bikes.
I (more ZenLC if I'm to be truthful) cleaned my rear cog-set, which will hopefully remove that horrid squeak in the 12 tooth.
The chain got a bath, and the jockey wheels on the dérailleur got 'serviced'.

Great day.
Too bad I'm going to ruin this pleasant vacation with a 120 mile, three mountain pass pain fest.

Maarburg,
Lost in the Ha Lu Sin Nation

Four Days and Counting

2008-07-07T19:11:00.002-10:00

The Diamox is still making me quite sleepy. Screw it, I'm on vacation.
Hung out with Tiff and ZenLC today.
Gotta say that none of seemed to have much energy.
Naps seemed to be the priority of the day.

Todays test ride was more spirited, with a max beats per minute only 2 less than the highest I've ever done. It seems that the legs are strong, but the lungs are still taking issue with the lack of oxygen.
10.5 miles today.
The Knee Issue: There was just a bit of tightness behind the left knee today. Not pain per se. The knee remained slightly tight for most of the night. This is good. It's better than pain.

I'm starting to feel a bit of confidence. A glimmer of hope.
Four more days till I lay my soul on the fate of my training.

Come one, come all, see the freak of endurance and suffering. Ladies and children, you may want to think twice before you step inside this tent, the horror that awaits is not for the timid.

Maarburg,
Somewhere in the O2 deprived state of Hypoxia.

Five Days and Counting

2008-07-06T18:35:00.002-10:00

Today was a big day.
Tiff came in! Hurray!
We wont talk about saddles. It's too early.

The ride went good. Kathleen doesn't seem to have a problem with the altitude, but I do.
Still.
The Diamox is fun. Sort of a sleep dep/disconnected feeling, with tingling fingers and toes. That should pass.

The test ride today was just over 8 miles, and once again my skills are outdone by those of Tiff and Zen, though Zen said that my speed is better.

Feeling confident, and hopeful.

Maarburg.
Location,
Somewhere in Colorado with an altitude of 5822ft...

Six days and counting.

2008-07-05T18:36:00.002-10:00

I'm now in ZenLand.
It's considerably warmer than last year, and I am hoping that this is an omen of nice weather for the ride.
Kathleen has come out of her cage and the first test ride seemed to also provide a good sign. No knee pain. A short ride with no pain and good weather, my spirits are up.
One of the challenges for last year was the altitude sickness. The doc gave me a prescription for Diamox.
Diamox is providing me with some interesting side effects. Some tingling in the fingers, and the constant feeling of not having slept in two days.
See my previous research in this feeling.

All in all, things are going as well as can be expected.
More after a nap.

Maarburg, somewhere in Colorado

What I Kneed...

2008-06-25T13:38:00.003-10:00

Doc called.

X-Rays show some fluid in the knee. Infusion.
Recommends not cycling.
I laughed.
She wasn't joking.

Good news, as it were:
No extra bone build up.
No arthritis.
No erosion.

Potential for long term damage is there.

Still digesting what this means for Triple Bypass 2008....

16 days until Triple Bypass.

Maarburg

TBP 2008 -18days

2008-06-23T12:31:00.001-10:00

After my 200k ride in early May, I did not really have much desire to get back on the bike. Unfortunately, I hopped back on the bike with vigor and enthusiasm exceeding my abilities.

After a few weeks of knee pain, and playing with my saddle position, I went to the doc.
Doc says that I most likely have Chondromalacia Patella. Short version of what that means is that I need to keep off my knee for some undetermined amount of time.
Chances are, that I will not need surgery, and when the doc ever brought that up I involuntarily started shaking my head "No!". I'm thinking the doc wanted to scare me into resting.
I hope so.
Got some X-Rays taken, and I should know more in a few days on the severity of the situation.

Meanwhile, what do I do?
Can't continue to train, at least not at the level/intensity that I want to.
Will the knee be better in time for TBP?
Will I just ride anyway?

Eighteen days and counting.

Triple Bypass 2007 Ride Report (finally)

2008-06-18T15:00:00.014-10:00

Triple Bypass 2007 Ride Report (finally)

To be a cyclist is to be a student of pain....at cycling's core lies pain, hard and bitter as the pit inside a juicy peach. It doesn't matter if you're sprinting for an Olympic medal, a town sign, a trail head, or the rest stop with the homemade brownies. If you never confront pain, you're missing the essence of the sport. Without pain, there's no adversity. Without adversity, no challenge. Without challenge, no improvement. No improvement, no sense of accomplishment and no deep-down joy. Might as well be playing Tiddly-Winks.
-Scott Martin

To understand, to have a frame of reference, for this tale, you might want to read about my previous excursion with ZenLC.

Below is my official account of my ride and related events for the Triple Bypass Ride of 2007. Any person mentioned should be considered guilty, and a menace to society. I will pull no punches.

Perspective on the altitude that Triple Bypass event is at: The beginning, yes beginning, altitude it 2382 meters above sea level. The highest point on the 2007 Tour de France was 2642 meters on the Col du Galibier. The beginning altitude has roughly 77% of the oxygen than at sea level, where all of my training was undertaken. At the summit of the first climb, altitude 3402 meters, the oxygen is roughly 67% of sea level. In order to get oxygen, you need to breath twice as much. Yes, my friends, twice. In keeping with my love of useless trivia: this altitude, is very close to the altitude of the capital of Bolivia La Paz at 3630 meters. The highest capital city in the world. Neener. What is this sanity-forsaken ride? It's none other than the Triple Bypass ride, sponsored by Team Evergreen. 10,310 ft of climbing over 120 miles. On a bike. In one day. I am well aware that this amount of altitude, not to mention distance, falls far beyond what a normal human can comprehend. I often find myself in the company of atypical humans. In fact I find them more interesting. Two of those friends will be the co-stars of this little drama. Triple Bypass is a monumental bike ride by nearly any one's standards. You may already be questioning my sanity by committing to such a ride. Question away. I have. The following should clear up any doubts you have about my mental stability: A little cycling history:

Year	Total Miles	Longest Ride	Notables
2003	568	75.2	First Metric Century
2004	1070	100.2	First Imperial Century
2005	1330	101	Second Imperial Century (Waimea Canyon)
2006	118	13	Not a typo.

While training for this ride, I did the following: 45 Rides, both indoor on the *Vomitron and outdoors for a total of 1187 miles.

*Vomitron [vom-eh-Tron] noun. Loving nickname (coined by Tiff) for an indoor resistance trainer. It's like breathing real hard and watching paint dry. But less fun.

I burned an estimated 90,879 calories and climbed over 48,000 vertical feet. I lost 14 lbs.
I also spent a nice chunk of change with Walter at BikeFriday.com
The result of Walter's patience and expertise and a few hours building bikes for cash yielded Kathleen. A 2007 BikeFriday New World Tourist. All the advantages of a touring bike, but in 20 minutes it packs into an suitcase. I love this bike. If you travel and take your bike with you, you need to talk to Walter. Tell him Maarburg sent you. Or ping me and I'll get you in touch with him.
Fast forward to the week of the ride:
Location: Colorado, ZenLC's House

Thursday before Triple Bypass (TBP)
The training ride was quite discouraging... The altitude seemed to be a bigger problem than I'd expected. ZenLC (the evil bastard that he is) is so used to riding with no oxygen, that he was his normal chipper self. Tiff, seemed to have lungs to spare and at one point took off. ZenLC dropped back to me and we rode with amusement about how Tiff had no idea where she was or where she was going, and when she would look back and see that we were a few hundred meters behind her. Tiff is like that. Strong, independent, focused. She did look back, then slowed and allowed us to catch up.
I spent 55 out of 73 minutes in oxygen debt. Oxygen debt, if you're unfamiliar with the term is that intense burning feeling that occurs when you're pushing hard and need more oxygen than your body can process. Similar to suffocation, but takes longer. If ever there was a bad juju, this was bad juju. Bad juju indeed.

Friday: Today's training ride seemed to be a bit better overall; we rode faster and it seemed a little easier at the same time. I was still little discouraged, but there really was nothing that I could do. I'd trained how I'd trained and my nutrition was what is was. All there was to do was to ride my ride, and try not to ride anyone else's. That's what they say, ride your ride. No way in hell that I was going to back out.

The night before The Ride.
This was it. The single most difficult thing I have ever attempted. (So far.) I should feel nervous. Butterflies in the belly and all that. I didn't. I might not be normal. I'll leave that as an exercise for the reader.
ZenLC and Tiff were sitting on the floor in between ZenLC's living room and family room. The are going over gear, double checking, triple checking. Taking things out of bags and putting them back in, only to take them out again. And put them back in. I have introduced ZenLC's most excellent and exceptional son, Kevin, to a classic game, NetHack. If you've never played it, you do not qualify for a Geek Card. Period. (I mention that Kevin is an excellent child, and there's a reason: ZenLC and his wife are excellent parents. I bring this up, simply for the fact that there is so infrequently a time in which I can.) Kevin and I are playing NetHack and ZenLC and Tiff are packing for the Big Ride. It dawns on me after a good half hour that "Holy Crow, I should be packing too!!". I finish the game with Kevin and gather my Big Ride gear.
Ten minutes. Done. Shouldn't that have taken longer? I mean, this is a serious ride. This is the ride of rides. The Epic. There's no room to kludge this up by forgetting, my helmet or something.
By the way... I have done that. I've ridden away from the house without my helmet. Turned around went back and donned the melon cap, only to have to turn around and ride back to get my CamelBak that has all my food and water.
Suddenly, I feel anxious. Very Anxious. I pause and gather my nerves, there is little use for fight or flight feelings now. (I'll get to use that reflex tomorrow) The nerves that I'd expect for an event of this level, just seemed to have passed by. The bikes and gear go into Tiff and Mr. Tiff's van.
Note to self; Let Tiff pack her own damn van. Period. Laughing didn't help. And was potentially painful. Possibly fatal. I mark that up to a lucky escape.

Strangely enough, my attempts at sleep were taken by other worries in my life.. and very little was spent thinking about the ride. Saturday. Ride Day. Everything had been taken care of the night before. All that was left was to get to the event start, and ride. Or is that 'get to the ride and start'? Who cares. I'm here. I'm doing this! The trip up is gorgeous. I spent most of the time looking out the window at the spectacle that is Colorado, and thinking about the last crazy thing that ZenLC talked me into, and listening to "Up" music.

"You can't hurt me (NO)
You can't stop me (NO)
You can't beat me (NO)
You can't bring me DOWN!!"
or
"If I hadn't made me, I would of been made somehow..
If I hadn't assembled myself, I would've fallen apart by now.
If I hadn't made me, I'd be more inclined to bow.
Powers that be, would have swallowed me up
But that's more then I can allow. (But)
If you let them make you, they'll make you Paper-Mache;
At a distance you're strong, Until the wind comes.."
or
"I need you to trust who I’m gonna be
And in everything I’m going to do
Cause I’m not afraid of what I don’t know
For understanding is all that I earn
But what is for sure is I’m going to go
I’m going to live and I’m going to learn"

I think long and hard about what I'm going to do. How it's not the body that gives up. How growth all stems from adversity. I know that I've not put in the hours into training or taken my weight down to where it needs to be to do well on this ride. I know that right now, sitting in the Tiff-Mobile on the way to this ride with two of my most trusted friends, I can throw in the towel and they will not think less of me. They'll argue against it, they'll be disappointed, but they'll let me bow out. I guess that I am scared. There is nothing that is making me do this. I choose this. I want this. Even though, when I look at it objectively, I have serious doubts about my ability to pull this off. I need this. Like I need air, I need to throw myself at this with everything. I can't wait. I may succeed, I may fail, but there is no chance to succeed with out the attempt.

"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt

You tell'um Teddy!

When we get to the parking area, I can feel the electricity pulling my hair straight out from your head. I B-line immediately for the loo. Looks like I've hydrated sufficiently. The line was about fifteen Spandex clad cyclists long and both sided of the loo were being treated as unisex. One line. Tiff joins me in line. Never the patient one, after a few moments she says "Screw this. I gotta go.", and heads off past the line. She walks around back to take care of business. One of the cyclists at the front of the line said to the equally matching spandex clad rider next to him, "That's my kinda girl." The guy in front of me in line just looked back at me and raised his eyebrows, presumably in admiration. Or fear? It's hard to tell. Was he looking for approval? Comfort? Camaraderie? Who knows. A short moment later, Tiff walks out from behind the bathrooms and heads back to the van. When the guy in front of me gets into the bathroom, I could hear him calling Earl. Repeatedly. Not a good way to start a ride. Ever. I feel for him. I try to remember what he looks like. To see if I see him on the ride. I don't.

The air is thin and crisp, though I'll find out soon enough just how damn thin the air is. ZenLC and Tiff look ready. I don't feel the weight of this ride just yet. I'm too calm. I'm too relaxed. Shouldn't I be freaking out right now? Calling Earl? I'm going to try to ride 120 miles over three mountain passes on a folding bike that I took out of a suitcase four days ago. Getting prepped, I had the distinct feeling that I was missing something. I had a mental checklist. Too bad sanity wasn't on that list. You won't believe how many times I checked to see if I had my helmet on. Believe it or not, I don't care, I ran through my checklist a few times; Shoes, helmet, socks, tights, Wuss Switch in "off" position, shorts, helmet, jersey, jacket, helmet, bike, brakes hooked up, ditty bag with tools, pump, bottles with fuel, Camelbak with H2O, PayDay bars, Perpetuem, HammerGel. Check helmet again. Check Wuss Switch.
The phrase, "you could feel the tension in the air" is used and abused. But true. Zen seemed calm. I thought to myself, "Be like ZenLC, be like ZenLC..." Oooohhmmmm. Tiff, on the other hand was jazzed. I could tell that she was nervous, but excited. We ate bananas while standing next to the back of the Tiff-Mobile. Banana peels go into the Crocs. Um, don't ask. I'm not even sure I understand at this point. Everything is in order. Everything in it's place.
Pose for photos.
Click.
We are off. Meaning that we're riding.. not just that we're not well. I will leave that as exercise for the reader. We cycle along side other cyclist. Each has paid over $100 to have the privilege to be here. To ride together. We loop around a pond littered with goose poop. The image of my skinny front tire dodging flattened globs of goose goo stays with me. I don't want to start this ride with goose goo on me. The road turns upward, but gradually and evenly. It will be this way for many miles. Uphill. Make that up-mountain. Hills are what they have where I live. They have something else entirely here. I'm tempted to ride at the pace that Tiff and ZenLC are going, but I know better. They are both in better shape. Stronger. More disciplined. I ride my ride. My pace. I pass very few people. A group of ten or so riders, all with Texas state flag jerseys are bunched up on the side of the road. Waiting for another Texan or fixing a flat? I don't know. The road turn up, just a bit more. Four to six percent grade. Nothing serious, nothing to laugh at either.
After about 40 minutes I see Tiff and ZenLC on the side of the road. Pee break. I hydrate the foliage. What a supreme joy it is to be male. We head off again. The miles pass slowly. Tiff and ZenLC are far ahead. Team Texas passes me. A lot of people pass me. I can't ride any faster without pushing to far and too hard. My heart is running at around 160 beats per minute. Too fast and too early. I have to go to the bathroom. The non side of the road type. Mile seven, there's a faux flat. Small respite. I gear up and make up some time. I pass a handful of riders.

This ride has been what I've been waiting for. The anvil that I have thrown myself upon. My head as begun to pound a steady beat like the rotation of my pedals. I pull off to the side and take a picture. More riders pass me. Twenty minutes later, I pull over again. Is that...? Holy Crow, that a ski lift. The top of a ski-lift. Ouchie. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. This first ascent is around sixteen miles long. Goose goo to rest stop loo. I stop a total of eight times, taking pictures at most. I spend a great deal of time looking at the Heart Rate Monitor mounted to the handlebars. I'm watching my heart rate. It's too high. I'm venturing too quickly into oxygen debt. The headache grows. My desire, or need, to find a porta-poty increases. Uncomfortably. My stomach is protesting almost as much as my lungs. And my head. I need the rest stop. Sooner the better. There are riders near me, riding about the same pace. When the pace quickens a bit, I realize that the first rest stop it just up ahead. Woot! One massive leg killing, lung torturing mountain done. From 7,819 ft to 11,162 in 3 hours and 40 minutes. 4% average grade. Damn, sure felt like more. I'm late. I look for Mr. Tiff, but he's not there. I'm running way behind. Now, where is that honeybucket?

I head straight for the first PortaPotty in a line of about 30. It's a banana. Note to self. Either chew better, or avoid bananas before epic rides. I needed to refill my shake bottle. I top off the Camelbak with water, and realize that I do not have any fuel to refill my shake bottle with. It's in the Tiff-Mobile. As long as I find Mr. Tiff at the bottom of this hill, I'll be ok. I grab some oranges and a cookie and hop back on the bike.

The descent is awesome. The ride organizers posted these silly signs "Slow! Sharp Corner" in black on neon green cardboard. I drop my speed to 20 mph around the first corner. And keep looking for the Sharp Corner they warned against. I take the next few corners at similar speeds and then give up. I fly the rest of them, taking some at 30mph plus. I pass 15 or so riders on the way down. One of them, a guy wearing the day's jersey, already, is wobbly and unsteady. I ride on the far side of the road, the opposite road edge, when I pass him. I don't want to hit this guy and end both of our days. "Yeah, I was doing ok until this ass on a freak-bike slammed into me." or "I was doing ok until this poser in the TBP 2007 Jersey wobbled out in front of me."

One of the guys I pass near the bottom of the descent has taken issue with me passing him. He chases, then passes, then slows to catch his breath. We play leapfrog for three miles. My speed does not change. I'm tired, but I have found a rhythm, it is a quartet of my legs lungs and throbbing head. My stomach has settled down and I sip water almost constantly. One major climb is behind me. Fishing around in my pack, I find a Payday bar. Yup, sugar and nuts. This one, this particular bar, looks like it's been on a few rides with me. The white wrapper is no longer crisp, it's not like paper. It's been through a lot. The bar itself is smooched and flatter than it was when it left the store. I tear open the package with my teeth and can smell the pea-nutty goodness. Now here's the magic of this particular candy bar. It keeps. Try this with a snickers and it would be a nasty gooey mess. Now the Payday bar. Now that's a perfect candy bar. Not too sweet, with a nice touch of salt. High glycemic sugars for that instant pick me up, and the lower glycemic sugars for a little longer energy.

Down in Idaho Springs, I find Mr. Tiff and the Tiff-Mobile of goodies. He says that Tiff and ZenLC have just left. They waited for me. Striping off my tights and jacket with the zip off sleeves, I grab my spare shake bottle and a third of the food I have left and I hit the road. I make this pit stop quick, hoping to catch them, delusionally. Though I no longer have the sense of mind to realize that even if I can catch them, I won't be able to hang with them. Back on the bike, I try to pace myself. Content with the fact that Tiff and Zen, even if I were to catch them, are too fast for me. Details of the ride seem to fade from this point. I do remember volunteers at intersections waving me through. My heart rate monitor was my guide. I had to try to keep it below Zone 5, or I'd be toast for sure. There seems to be a bit more oxygen here in this valley, and I make good time. Good time, considering that my body has definitely thrown in the towel. No matter how deep I try to draw breathe, I only seem to get my lungs half full. The deeper I try to breath, the more intense the desire to cough. The altitude has had more of an effect on me than I had feared it would. Good thing I brought my attitude.

For a brief time, I rode with a dude from Minnesota. I think he was wearing the ride Jersey already. I hope he finished. I don't think he did though. We chatted, and rode. I don't recall what we talked about.

A few miles up the road, when I was ready for a break, I saw a cyclist talking to a civilian. I stopped near them. She was the support crew and he was a UMCA rider, not doing the Triple Bypass Ride. Just out for a brevet. Folded up in my jersey pocket was the Planet Ultra Motto. I showed it to them and we all had a nice laugh. I wasn't really concerned about the pain. My head still hurt, and my legs were getting numb, but it was the inability to maintain any speed. I was not getting enough O2. My lungs could not get enough oxygen into my blood to fuel my legs. I didn't know how to fix that. All I could do was ride on. They wished me good luck, and I mounted my bike again, and set off.

From this point on, I'm very unsure of the sequence of events. Memory and reality and altitude sickness blur all lines. I see an old train that passes over the bike path, and wind through a park. Riding along side the highway, I see no riders in front of me, and no riders behind. I've lost track of how much or how little fuel I'm eating. I ride alone for what seems like along time. There seems to be only one way to go, so I'm not concerned about getting lost. I have begun to stop frequently. This ride, all of the training, has come down this battle between my brain and the mountains of Colorado. I have nothing left. Every thought is boiled down, distilled into a zen-like meditation of slowly turning over the pedals. There is a solace in this. My concerns about Escheria Coli's ability to adapt to modern antibiotics and the crushing effect of the Earths dwindling petroleum supplies are gone. My goals for life, now absent from my mind. All that exists is my bike, this small patch of asphalt in front of me and the throbbing of my head. A sensible person would stop. For, perhaps, the tenth time I check to make sure the "Wussy Switch" is in the off position. No sense trying to do this with the Wuss switch engaged.

A fellow bikejournal.com rider catches up to me. bmclaughlin807. BMC looked like his was out enjoying a nice little jaunt on his bike. He slowed up his pace and rode with me. We chatted, but I have no recollection about what. I do remember that he and his wife had come down with some stomach bug. Funny, he didn't seem to be hurting. I'm jealous of him. Not in the evil-want-to-hurt-him way, but in the idolize way. BMC, to me is a very strong example of the type of person that I seem to find in the cycling world. Mellow, confident, friendly, intelligent, caring.. . Caveat: he could also be an axe murderer, I have no idea. Read the above description of my separation with reality. BMC rode with me to the Georgetown feed station.

Georgetown, or a lake. I'm not sure. I meet up with Tiff and ZenLC, and feel much better about things in general. I don't want to walk. I don't want to see Kathleen ever again. I want this nightmare to be over. On the other hand, I don't like to give up. And I can walk. If I can walk, it means I can ride. If I can ride, then I will. I don't want to let ZenLC and Tiff down. I don't want to remember this ride as something that I gave up on. I think ZenLC talked me into pouring water on my head. I don't remember. Sounds like something that he would do. It's possible that I chow down on a bunch of oranges. I'm not sure. I remember laying down in the gravel and grass beside the Tiff-Mobile, and figuring out how much I had left in me. Not much. Not sure how long I lay there, but I gathered the mindset to head off to the Loveland feed station.

I guess, at some point, I got back on the bike and headed out. I don't recall leaving the Georgetown feed station.

I'm alone again.
One of the official SAG vans stops a few hundred feet ahead. When I get there, the ask if I need a ride. I tell them that I don't, and I'm just going to try to get to the Loveland station. On the other side of the van, three large Big Horn Sheep trot down from the hillside. I blink a few times, not trusting that I'm see that large of an animal less than twenty yards away. While talking to these nice people that want me to give up, I try desperately to not look at the sheep. Partially because I don't believe that the are there, and partially because if I ask about them, they might not let me continue on. I eventually pointed and offered a questioning look, and the lady offered, "Big Horns, they've lost their fear of humans.", and proceed to inform me that I'm the last rider. I must have seemed at least a little coherent, because the let me ride. It took a good 20 minutes for me to process that last bit of information about me being the....Last Rider On Course.

Further up the road, I ride off the road into the gravel and unceremoniously fall off my bike. Not really a crash, as my forward momentum was too low. Nothing seems broken on the bike, so it's back out on the road. I'm crawling now. There is nothing left in the tank. I crash again, but manage to unclip and catch myself against a tree. I don't remember when I've eaten last, or had water. I rest by that tree for awhile, unsure why I'm doing this at all. The Perpetuem tastes really good, but the water doesn't. I ponder why I'm pressing on and pushing myself. I must have found an answer, for I climbed back on my bike, and started up the road again.

If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.
- Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

My legs are weak, my lungs are dried out, and my head is throbbing. I ride with my head hung down, staring at the road right ahead of me. Occasionally I look at the road ahead, then back down at the road right ahead my front tire. This continues for about three days. When I look up again, I see, not a Big Horn Sheep, but a Lion. Lounging on the opposite side of the road. I lower my head, thinking how strange. My oxygen starved brain finally processes that image and I jerk my head up. The Lion is gone. Or never was. I'm not sure. I saw Big Horn Sheep less than ten meters away, so why not an African Lion? (Because you're in Colorado you eeediot!) Wildly looking on both sides of the road, I ride up to where the Lion was. He's nowhere to be found. I'm nervous. I have either had a tremendously vivid hallucination, or I have the potential to be Lion chow. Neither option is comforting. Actually, both are slightly disturbing. I weigh the options over in my head and decide that the hallucination option is most likely, but not ruling out the possibility of a Lion.

Glancing in all directions I ride nonstop, and a faster pace than I have in the last hour or so to an intersection. Flight of Fight syndrome to the rescue. I'm far enough from the Lion sighting to feel a little safer. The course of the ride crosses over a freeway and continues along the freeway all the way to the Loveland feed station. I have enough functioning brain power to realize that the two (or was it three) crashes and the possible hallucination are not positive signs for me riding near fast moving traffic.

I throw in the towel and call Mr. Tiff. I've run myself down to the core. I'm not disappointed. I'm not frustrated. I'm not proud. I'm not even afraid of the Lion. I'm empty.

Mr. Tiff says he's on his way to get me in a bit and I plop down by a tree and finish my fuel and water. I remember calling my wife. She's disappointed for me, which works just fine as I can't drum up the energy feel anything at all. I try to sound positive, but am rather numb, and still freaked about the Lion. The SAG van from earlier spots me and picks me up. I call Mr. Tiff and let him know that I'm on my way to the aid station. I wasn't that far away.

Final Ride Stats:
Elevation gain 6,390ft
Overall grade: 7%
Max grade: 11.2%
Start Elevation 7,819ft
Max Elevation 11,162ft
Average speed 7mph.
Maximum Speed 41.3mph
Distance: 51.57 miles
Climbing Distance: 21.02 miles
Max Hart Rate: 172 BPM
Time in Zone 5 : 1:00:27.... way more than my training.

When I get dropped off, I get the pleasure of walking my bike across the gravel parking lot that is the Loveland Aid Station to the Tiff-mobile. I don't recall if ZenLC and Tiff were there already, but I think they were. Curious about my own sanity, I ask ZenLC if Lions are indigenous to Colorado. Surely he'd know, or know if there was some recent zoo-break. Calmly, he informs me that Mountain type are, but not the African variety that I've seen. Ok, it was a hallucination. That doesn't make me feel any better.

Tiff is frustrated, I can't process what about. I sit in the front seat of the Tiff-Mobile, talking with Mr.Tiff, fading in and out of consciousness. ZenLC and Tiff are in side by side HoneyBuckets holding a conversation. It not until the next day that I realize how funny that is.

At one point the conversation focuses on Tiff's hydration levels. By the side of the Tiff-mobile, Tiff drops shorts and pees, allowing ZenLC and Mr. Tiff to check. She's hydrated. Even so, I avoid taking any of the Gatorade or water, leaving that for these two brave friends that are going to continue on.

Tiff and ZenLC head out again. I ride shotgun in the Tiff-Mobile. I'm sure Mr.Tiff an I talked, but I'll be damned if I know about what.

Mr.Tiff and I wait at the Frisco feed station for ZenLC and Tiff. Mrs. Zen and Kevin show up. I try to be chipper and happy. All I want to do is pass out.

Tiff and ZenLC ride up. I cheer. I'm proud of them. I can't manage to be proud of myself, but I'm very proud of them. I try to be cheerful, but can't seem to muster the energy.

I'm delirious. We went for food. Pizza, I think. I remember wanting a beer, but deciding that I didn't want to be carried back to the Tiff-Mobile Triply Bypass 2007 was an anvil upon which I had lay my being. Each pedal stroke, a strike of the hammer. It was too much for me. No excuses. It was more than I could endure.

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable. -Sidney J. Harris

Am I stronger now, for this year? Have I put in the training I need to survive this ordeal. And yes, the big question; why the hell would I try again... Next time....because it is AViciousCycle.

Damaged.

2008-06-09T09:24:00.004-10:00

On a routine training ride, I noticed some tightness in the tendon inserting into the back of my knee from the calf.

In the longer rides that I do, I will get strange pains. Most go away.

This one did not. By the end of the ride it was quite painful, but manageable.
I limped for three days in an attempt to baby that angry tendon, and decided to give it some time to heal.

That same tendon spoke up again, not 50 meters from the house at the beginning of my ride.

I'm very discouraged. TBP is too close and too important to be dealing with things like this.
:(

A Challenge Accepted

2008-05-29T17:10:00.009-10:00

Apparently, if something scares me, I can be talked into it pretty darn easily.

Readers of this intermittent rambling might remember my little Waimea Canyon trip, or perhaps the daring (some say stuuupid) attempt at Triple Bypass 2007.
I swear that the write up of that event is coming!!! I swear!
Two of my best friends, ZenLC and Tiff, had agreed to do the Stove Prairie 200k. A brevet held by the Rocky Mountain Cycling Club.
I was invited to join them, but with TBP 2008 and my first trip to Europe on the schedule for this year, it was out of the question.
Let's not get into how I didn't think I'd be ready for a 200k ride by then. (and seemed to think that I'd be ready for that same distance, but at 'altitude' only two short months later)

I like to think of myself as rather independent. Certainly I try to be, but there are some groups that I very much want to be a part of. One group is the jokingly coined Team One Degree. They're doing a 200k on May 3rd, then dammit I want to too! So, with surprisingly little though at all, I agreed to do an empathy ride. ZenLC and Tiff would ride in CO, and I would ride here in the land of rainbows.

One of these days.. I will hesitate long enough to give some of these leaps a bit more thought. There are three main factors that let me chose this empathy ride.

ZenLC and Tiff were doing it. (yes, I know this is a really lame reason.. but I explained it above)
I was afraid of it.
It would serve as a great benchmark for my training.

I didn't claim that there was much rational to it.

I did a fair amount of procrastinating regarding this ride. It culminated in choosing the route the night before, working out my nutrition (Hammer Nutrition ROCKS!), and not really getting to sleep until ~ 1pm. (Cranky comments about support edited).

Ride day. May 3rd 2008
I woke up late. Not rested. Nervous. Anxious. Reptilian brain looking for excuses to not ride. I had lay out my cycling clothes, bib shorts, Metallica ...And Justice For All Jersey, Metallica socks, Heart Rate Monitor chest strap. My Camelbak Pack was filled with everything sans the bladder. Which was filled in short order, ice and water.
Out the door, on the bike. And can you believe it? I remembered my helmet this time! I never cease to amaze myself.

First hiccup of the day. I had tested a rechargeable back up battery with my Garmin 305. Worked wonderfully. The problem is that I had not cleared it, which I think you can only do on a computer. So, I'm in full bike geek outfit, silly shoes and all. I'm already running late. I recite a line from Risky Business, and clip in. I'll figure it out.
While riding away from the house I reset the lap counter, and that seemed to at least give me the current ride time and distance. Should work. Fingers Crossed.

I previously called this post an 'attempt' at 200k, because I had serious doubts that I could pull off such a leap. There's a rule that prattled about a bit in cycling that goes like this:

"For an event, you can ride one-third farther than your longest training ride"
Ok. All good. Here's the rub. My longest training ride was 54 miles. This means that the longest I should be able to do, more or less, for an event is ~72 miles. This is a bit of a problem. I was attempting something in the magnitude of two and a quarter times my longest training ride.
Not a brilliant move. I have come to realize that I have no idea what my limits are. I don't know what I'm capable of, until I fail. And that only shows that I had a limit for that thing, at that time. Certainly doesn't mean that I won't be able to do that thing sometime in the future.

I set out on my favorite non recumbent bike, Kathleen. We talked for a bit. Me about my doubts and fears, her about how she thinks her chain rings are bent and that she needs a good scrubbing. She's a great listener. Though she seems to only want to talk about cycling and travel. NEVER bring up the existence of any other of my bikes with her.

We set out on a familiar path, the training ride from Ewa Beach to Haleiwa. Five miles of flats on a nice bike path, then rolling 6-8% for the next five miles. Nothing too challenging, but a nice workout. I knew that if I was going to survive this silly idea of a ride, that I would have to be conservative in my riding. No jumping up out of the saddle to sprint-climb the shorter hills. Nice even pace. Eye on the Heart Rate Monitor. Slow and steady.
The reward for climbing up to Wahiawa is the decent from Wahiawa to Haleiwa. Very nice 6%. Quite easy to hit speeds of 40 M.P.H.
Once into Haleiwa, I stopped at the park and topped off the water and switched from Hammer Gel to Perpetuem and Sustained Energy.

If you are into any long distance exercise and have not tried Hammer Nutrition, you will be in for a treat. Message me. I know a guy that can get you 15% off your first order.

My nutrition plan, worked out thought trial and error, and confirmed with a call to Hammer was simple and fool proof. Two of my favorite things.

Hours one and two Hammer Gel every 30 minutes
Hours three+ Sustained Energy or Perpetuem, every 20 minutes from a one-hour bottle
Endurolytes (capsule) every hour
Plain H2O, as much as I could drink. (recurring pee tests to validate)

Ok, for those of you that are not familiar with endurance sports, there might be some details that you just don't want to know.

Back to the ride.
Instead of heading out of Haleiwa and taking a right, back the way I'd come, I take a left and venture out to roads untraveled. That has a much more romantic sound to it than the reality of I only had a vague idea where I was going.
I've put in roughly two hours and about 41km. I have a long way to go. A few miles up the road I spot, on the opposite side, the Haleiwa Bike Path. Having heard of it, but never ridden, I figure now is a good time as any. After riding and waiting for traffic to break, I jaunt across the road. There's a small break in the trees and a little gully to ride through. Down and up, I pop out the other side to find my gearing too high and the pine needle covered and too deep. In slow motion I cease forward movement and pitch like an over loaded sailboat, to the right. I'm pretty sure I was laughing before I hit the ground, and quite certain that I was howling in simple mined glee after. The elderly man on the beach cruiser and the lady performing yoga asanas either did not hear me, or chose to ignore me.

Undeterred and only slightly covered in sand and pine needles, I rode the Bike Path just long enough to realize that it is very bumpy and has stop signs every 100 ft. Not good for what I wanted to accomplish. Back to the road for me.

Yet further down the road, I see in my rear view mirror, a small pace line chasing me down. Now, it needs to be stated that I have never considered myself a fast rider, and doubt that I will every be fast. They are pleasant and cheerful as they pass me. Instinctively, I hop on to the back of the pace line, making sure to keep a safe distance behind. I don't know these guys. I ride with them, ignoring my goal of a nice steady pace. I'm a dog, and they are the rabbits. It's instinct. I look down and see my heart rate is way to high for this long of a ride and drop of the back, painfully watching them pull away.

Not a mile up the road, they hit a rough spot and someones back light commits suicide. The scatter like ducks at the sounds of a gun. All form and line is gone. I roll past the light. It's broken and shattered. Before this day is out, I think that I too might be like that light. Half of them pull off to the side and wait as the other half rides the wrong way, towards me. I pass both groups, and keep rolling. They'll catch up, no doubt.

Catch up they do, though it took them much longer than I expected.
Many miles of mountains to the right, and ocean to the left, I see that group pulled off to the side. I'm not ready for break but stop and chat anyway. This is the spot where they split up. Some head back to complete a 40 mile route. Others push on to some named, but unknown to me, landmark to make an 80 mile route. When the question comes to me, about my ride, I am greeted, quite to my pleasure, with trout mouths and deer eyes. Yes, fellow cyclists, I am throwing myself to the wind and attempting to ride farther than any sane person would.
I leave them in that state. Looking at my little tires, back to me, back to the little tires. They are so cute when they can't compute. I roll on.

I've done something on this ride that I'm not sure about.
I have music (Good damn music!) in an ear bud in my right ear. It was a tough decision. The idea of being fully aware of the cars and just everything around me, is very appealing. I counter that thought with that fact that most times, I have song stuck in my head for an entire ride. This started on my first Imperial Century, and seems to happen when I ride for more than a few hours. That kind of repeat rate can kill even your favorite song. The iPod Shuffle and headphones are small, so if I didn't like it, I could just stow it and move along. Turns out, it was a life saver. Gave my mind just enough to think about to keep me sane. So far.

I don't see my cycling friends. They don't pass me again. Maybe they didn't take the same route? Kidding, there is only one way around this side of the island. The road along the North Shore of Oahu is, all things considered, not bad. Decent shoulder, though there's always room for improvement. "On The Road Again" comes up in the play-list on my Shuffle. Nope, not that version, the Me First & The Gimme Gimmes version. I ride for a few minutes, singing and laughing. That's followed up by St. Anger from Metallica. When I reach Kawela Bay, I stop and take a picture, and as I'm doing so two of the pace line zip past. That is officially the last time I see them.

I ride through Kahuku, and pass the fresh corn stands. The road slips under my 20" wheels, mile after mile. Though I'm alone on this ride, I am not alone. I have friends with me. Some are suffering, as I am, but have that physical presence as company. I do not. I ride for hours with only myself to talk to. My friends are with me though. That's one of the great things about friends, they are always with you, always cheering you on. Thinking of the friends that are cheering me on as I attempt this, my legs gain renewed vitality. I relax, and the ride gets easier. My speed picks up. My load is lightened. The trick is to remember that they're there.
With this new lightness, I ride many miles and many hours. Pleasantly. Just a nice little bike ride around the island. Nothing difficult or arduous. 90% of everything is mental, the other 1/2 is heart.

I don't remember riding through Lai'e. Off over the ocean, the storm clouds are gathering and waiting. They know that I have no place to hide; no escape route planned. Those clouds, like angry children, seem to be gathering the courage to attack me.
Kahuku passes so quickly that by the time I decide not to call Anton, I'm past Kahuku and in to Punalu'u. Ka'a'awa, oh how I love that name, is a small blip as my pedals circle and the rock keeps flowing.

As I enter Kaneohe, it begins to rain. The grumpy children are attacking. Thick heavy drops that pop and thud on my silver helmet. Pounding out peal of war drums. Announcing their arrival. When the those clouds let loose, my visibility drops, and I'm worried about my electronics. GPS, iPod, front and rear lights, cell phone. The temperature so far has been in the high 70's. The rain drops the temp considerably, enough for me to actually feel cold. Yes, I know. I live in the land of warmth. I don't know cold, like my poor impoverished mainland bike friends do. You see, the rider (me in this case) is moving through the air, creating a windchill factor. I do know the difference between OHMYFLYINGSPAGHETTIMONSTERIT'SFINGCOLD, and "brrrrr" it's kinda chilly. This was the later. I tell you of this cold, so I can tell you about the sensation of riding through the puddles. The warm Hawai'i sun lends it's heat to the asphalt, and the puddles absorb this heat. The puddles reach 80 plus degrees in no time. It feels like riding through puddles of pee. Yes, this is what I think about on rides. Zen, I can empathize with getting peed on now. Another benefit of long rides. The simplest of things can be eternally amusing. It's raining, I'm cruising through puddles of warm pee and laughing like a little kid. There' something very primal in my make up regarding bikes and puddles. Something pure.

When the rain becomes to much, and my vision and visibility are too hindered, Kathleen and I take a quick turn to into the empty parking lot. I ride up the walkway and take shelter in the small roof over the store's entrance. On cue, the rain dwindles to a mere drop. No respite for me. Riding away from my impromptu shelter, I realize that it was a mortuary or a headstone engraver. Not a great omen. I've ridden quite strong so far, any my mood is very high. Omens be damned. More miles and more puddles.

This road that I'm traveling is along the edges of the island, drawing near, then away of the beaches. Nice views, lots of sand. Sand that is now being kicked up by my tires and tossed all over the place. Kathleen is filthy. Road grime. When I reach the half way mark, read :62.5 miles, I look for a nice place to stop and make some phone calls. At the bus stop, I park Kathleen and take off my helmet and CamelBak. Look over at Kathleen. She is covered in road grime. Sand and mud. Small globules of sand drip from the seat bag and, my reserve water bottle. I have to wipe the grit off my hands on the inside of my jersey so I can keep my camera clean. I take a few photos while I try to catch my breath before I make my calls.

After my calls, I begin to realize that what I've said on those calls is actually true. I've got this ride in the bag. Barring a mechanical, I'm as good as done! Today, this very day, I will ride farther than I ever have. Today, is one of those moments. Pushing my limits. Finding that most are imaginary, or at the very least temporary.

Most of our obstacles would melt away if, instead of cowering before them, we should make up our minds to walk boldly through them. - Orison Swett Marden

A lot of the remaining ride is the same as the return half of the Honolulu Century Ride, so I was familiar with the roads and conditions. Kathleen was not, but I assured her that there was nothing too bad ahead. Few small climbs, some rough asphalt.

Toward the end of Kaneohe, I managed to find a very very rough section of road. The mini-pump I bring with me managed to bounce to the side and the hose part was flopping around. Not wanting to break myrhythm , I tried to right this wayward pump while riding on. What I did manage to do, was run over a golf ball. While leaning forward. With only one hand on the bars. Considering how wide the shoulder was at that point, and that I was steering with one hand, I'm quite impressed that I managed to hit it. (Pretending that it was intentional).

Kaneohe lends itself to Kailua. Kailua, being one of the higher end neighborhoods on the island, you would assume that the drivers there would be of the more educated type. I have found, and did find again, that this is not true. "I'm on a bicycle you moron, I really can't speed up to much more. Go around." No amount of 'waving them around' seemed to get the message across. When the finally pass, I get nasty looks. Screw 'em.

I manage to get through Kailua with out an incident. Waimanalo does not have much in the way of cycle safe roads, so I stick to the side roads. Overdue for a pit stop, I 'check my hydration levels'. Seems good. I missed my turn in Waimanalo, so just tooled around on some back streets looking for the school that was supposed to be my next refueling stop. Never found it. I know the main road for this area, but not much else. I had plenty of food and water ready for to get to the next three possible stops.

The next stop ends up being Makapu'u. I'm getting tired. Filling the water bottles and CamelBak bladder are now tiresome chores.
Reminder: Cycling shoes and public bathroom floors are a very slippery combination. I didn't actually fall, but I have no idea how I managed to stay vertical. The ocean is a remarkable combination of every color of blue.

After a brief climb, I'm rewarded with a nice straight decent heading twords Sandy Beach. Nearly 40MPH. Seems so much faster on a bike than it does in a car. Cars Suck.

Before Sandy Beach, I take a right, inland. The trade winds are gone, the temperature has climbed. I try to drink more water, know that I'm sweating more now. In Hawaii Kai, a fellow cyclist passes me without saying anything. A few miles later, I pass him. He's getting up off the ground. Looks like some ass in a van passed him and then turned right. I think about stopping, but there's nothing for me to do. Aina Haina, and Kahala roll past with little to mention. The climb up the back side of Diamond Head rewards me with a breath taking view. No wonder tourists love Hawai'i.

The remainder of the ride is simple a repetition of the thought, "Heading home, heading home, heading home." The Great Sage Yogi once proclaimed that .. "Baseball is 90% mental, the other half is physical." I think that this is true of cycling as well.

Arrival at the ol' homestead is considerably less celebratory than I think it should be. There's no banner proclaiming my victory over the road, and myself. No fanfare. No shocked faces, incredulously in their shock and awe of my personal glory. In fact, the reaction is remarkably similar to every other ride I've done recently. There should be trumpets. People to carry me up the stairs, singing songs of my might, endurance, athletic prowess.

Now, I'm not trying to belittle the welcome that I did receive. There were congratulations and all of the normal will wishes, but it just seems out of proportion to the effort. I guess it breaks down to the reality that I really did this ride alone. No one else knows the level that I've pushed myself to, and monumental accomplishment that this was for me. The lack of celebration leaves the victory feeling incomplete. All of the effort, hours in training, late nights fretting over the route and how much and what type of food to bring. In all of the many times I visualized completing this ride, I never thought that victory would seem hollow. Don't mistake this grumbling for lack of pride in my accomplishment. There is something missing. An emptiness to the whole experience. Like a voice in the depths of my mind saying, "Yeah, now what?". The whole process is like the sound going out for the last twenty minutes of a movie. There's a whole anti-climactic overtone to the whole thing. Perhaps next time, I'll plan a party. Or share this type of event with like minds. Bike Minds.

I'm not afraid of 200 kilometers.
Triple Bypass 2008 is clearly a possible goal.

Ride Stats:
Miles: 126.85
Time on Bike: 10h 29m 44s
Start Time: 5:56am
End Time: 5:46pm
Total Time: 11h 49m 36s
Vertical Feet: 5,885
Avg. Heart Rate: 140BPM
Max Heart Rate: 174BPM
Personal Difficulty Rating (1-12): 9
(12 being the most difficult thing I've done to this point)
KCal consumed: 3,755
KCal expended: 10,051

Where do I go from here?

Where ever Kathleen takes me.

Thank you to all that believed I could do this, when even I had doubts.

Rest is good.

2008-03-20T08:57:00.004-10:00

I over trained.
Simply put, I put more stress on my system than the amount of rest and nutrition can make up for. I use a system to calculate the total workload I put on my system; by multiplying the minutes exercised times the heart rate zone.
I.E.
Zone 1 = 15.75 minutes = 15.75 workload
Zone 2 = 73.75 minutes = 147.50 workload
Since everyone has different heart rate zones, this system has a certain reliability to it.
By adding up the total workload for the week, you can have a number to assign to the training you've done. Typically, though I calculate the workload, I don't spend much time looking at the progression of those numbers. Looking back at them, I can correlate those workload numbers to how tired I am. Below is a breakdown of the workload (cycling only) of my training since the first of January:
Week 1 -85
Week 2 -159
Week 3 -175.8
Week 4 -150.55
Week 5 - 465.25
Week 6 -143
Week 7 -692.9
Week 8 -206
Week 9 -345.5
Week 10 -143
Week 11 -693.4
Rather inconsistent, if I do say so myself.
Back to over training. The last few workouts of Week 11, last week, I was unable to get my heart rate up as I had in previous trainings. General disinterest in turning the cranks over. I'd pushed too hard, and I knew it. With that in mind, I skipped my strength training on Monday and the scheduled hour of cycling training on Tuesday.
The result?
For a similar ride, I rode two miles farther, with a average speed of one mph faster.

Rest is good.
Rest in important.
MtM

Hypoxian's Are Crazy (a parody)

2008-03-07T11:41:00.004-10:00

Hypoxian's Are Crazy
Adapted from Faries Wear Boots by Black Sabbath

Goin home, late last night
Riding up, that steep incline
Suddenly I got a fright
Suddenly I saw a sight
Yeah I looked through the window
Yeah, I looked up the road
and surprised what I saw
Terrified what I saw
Hypoxians riding in a pack,
A lion waving to me with his paw.

All right now!
On the Bike! Now!

Hypoxians are nuts and you gotta believe me
There's Lions in Boulder, you gotta believe me
Yeah I saw it, I saw it, I tell you no lies
Yeah I saw it, I saw it, I tell you no lies
Hypoxians are nuts and you gotta believe me
There's Lions in Boulder, you gotta believe me
I saw it, I saw it with my own two eyes,
I saw it, I saw it with my own two eyes,

Well all right now!
Off the Bike! Now!

So I went to the doctor
So I went back to Zen-ster
See what he could give me
To see what he would say
He said son, son, you've gone too far.
He said man, man, you've gone to far.
Cause slacking and working is all that you do.
cause riding with too much O2 is what you do...
Yeaahhhhh!!!!

(Lion reference - might need some explainations, and I'm STILL working on that write up.)

Sometimes, inpiration was there all along.

2008-02-27T12:44:00.002-10:00

Proud to say that the dude in this interview is a buddy of mine.

Colorado Man Changes His Life

Way to go man!!

Modified Strength Training Program

2008-02-19T12:20:00.004-10:00

Here's what my TRX training program looks like now, after a few weeks of fiddling.
Day One (currently Mondays)
Swimmers Pull Superset with:
Back Row
Standing Back Extensions
Hip Press
Single Leg Squats
Suspended Lunge
Suspended Pendulum
Hip Abduction (Leg Spreaders)

Day Two (currently Thursdays)
Y Delt Raise Superset with:
Single Leg Chest Press
T Deltoid Raise
Delta Deltoid Raise
Triceps Press
Reverse Dips??? Looking for something that replaces standard Reverse Dips.
Biceps Curl
Press and Crunch

I've de-deemphasized the leg work, as I will be training quads/hamstrings for cycling specific motions. Primarily on the bike efforts like hill sprints. The above is an adaptation of my traditional Strength Training work out focusing on Free Weights. I had much success with that program, and have high hopes for how the TRX system will incorporate more of the interconnected muscles and require considerably more total muscular development.
I welcome any questions.

MtM
Current Meatspace
Lat = 21.31, Long = -157.85
Alititude 184ft

Anger, Jalapeno Poppers and Baseball Hail.

2008-02-14T01:25:00.003-10:00

Funny thing about a good dose of anger. If you're careful, you can channel that energy. Akido-style it right into something useful.
Rarely is anger useful, I've found.
Tonight I'd planned a nice TRX Upper body workout with a mellow hour on the vomitron after.
After exhausting all of my patience on .... er.. other matters yet to be resolved.. I set up the TRX and got to a-strappin. That thing is brutal.
I love it.
I'll hate it tomorrow, but today, that thing is awesome baby, awesome.
I ended up putting a little too much energy into my Strength Training, I had little left for the vomitron. What was supposed to be a 1hr ride.. .. I used my anger and frustration to turn it into a 2hr sweat fest. Day After Tomorrow, is a longer movie than I remembered. Just as a side note. Don't eat Jalapeño Poppers and go for a vomitron ride. Just don't. Trust me. Don't make me post pictures. *shudder*
Zen, Tiff, if you're out there.. I think I have a better understanding of that four letter word you throw around. Snow. It's that white crap from the movie, yea? Damn. Looks cold.
How bigs the hail in you're neck of the swamp... 'cus when that dude got knocked out from the Baseball sized hail, I just kept thinking... I gotta check Zen and Tiff's head for lumps!

It's now 01:35 on v-day.
Time for a shower and a nap.
MtM

Balance and the BHAG

2008-02-13T13:49:00.003-10:00

I think that the answer to life is not 42, after all. Twelve, maybe. But let's not get off on a tangent for my fetish for numbers. Perhaps in a follow up post.

Balance. I think that's the key.
Now, if it was just two things to keep balanced.. I think I'd be okay. You just get a nice long pole and strap a thing to each side. Duct tape, paracord, superglue and paperclips, y'know- whatever works. Whadday do when you got three things? And four? Now that pole wont carry four things (two on each side), so you have to get another pole.
As life gets more complex, so does the system I seem to use to balance all of it. Here's the rub, I seem to only have so much energy. I can only do so much. I have to compromise. Something must give way to the other things. Choosing what to give up, in favor of something else, now there's an interesting problem.

Why is this on a cycling blog? Thanks for asking.
Triple Bypass 2008, the 20th annual painfest, is looming.. and becoming brighter and larger in my mind every day. This is the big one. This is my BHAG.
Everything I do for the next 149 days will be compared to my BHAG.
This is how I plan on obtaining balance.
Cycling/Strength Training/Nutrition/Rest/and those that actively support my BHAG will by my focus.
Everything else, consider yourself on notice.

MtM
Current Meatspace
Latitude = 21.3115, Longitude = -157.8592
Alititude 185ft

Ride Report - Saturday the 2nd

2008-02-04T13:02:00.000-10:00

First real ride on Celeste.
This ride was supposed to be a nice mellow, time in the saddle, ride. Apparently I have issues with mellow.

The five morons in the white pickup truck, get my special unique one finger salute. Took me awhile to remember that I didn't even have a bike pump to back that up. Entire contents of pockets: Cell phone, Health Insurance Card, Debit Card, Driver's License, Heart Rate Monitor, House Key.
I guess I could always joint lock one of them.. and threaten the rest with the screams of their friends.
I keep an eye on them until they turned off the main road. Ever cautious that they will take my invitation to put up or shut up seriously.
I don't think I'll ever understand the need of you humans to taunt people that are obviously in a weaker position than you. 3000 lbs. vehicle with 5 teen agers vs. one 37 year old cyclist in spandex (and out of breath).
C'mon back if you want to find out how un-terrified I am of your punk-ass.
Rounding the corner at the end of North Road eased up the headwind a bit.
I let up on the pace a bit and try to get into a groove. I find the groove, but it's about 15 beats per minute higher than I should be at. Oh well. I'm on the bike, I'm outside. I'm smiling. A little hard work, sweat, and sunshine should do me good.
Turning on to Iroqouis Road and the wind is now at my back. I'm spinning out. Mean tailwind.
Back into civilization, a cyclist comes up beside me but turns right. I head out to the main road and take a right. A block up I see that cyclist again. He took a short cut? But I'm nearly on him, so it wasn't quite so short.
I try not to chase him. The dog in me wants to run.
I follow a few hundred feed behind. I could catch him. I hold back. I'm supposed to be riding mellow. When we get to the leetle hill exiting Ewa, I can see him running thru his gears as he climbs. He's half way up by the time I get there. The road turns up to about 6% and I'm forced to stand. No gears to run thru. Celeste is a simple girl. No frills, all thrills. I think about smooth clean circles as Celeste and I rapidly gain ground. Flying up this hill is the first time today that I've felt like a cyclist. When I get to the top, I'm ten feet behind him, but quite out of breath. It feels good. The burning quads, my lungs requesting more oxygen. (They should get used to that!)
I turn right and let the rabbit go. If this was not a mellow ride, I might have stuck with him.
Cruising around, I discover a park, and a paved path. It's not very well maintained. Rain and the footfalls of thousands have removed the soft tar and left a gravely grey strip. I follow along, only vaguely aware of where I'm headed. It wander between the loch and a golf course, which provides me with alternating aromas of cut grass and fertilizer and loch water.
When you're on a bike, everything smells better. Even things that normal don't. I wander, say hit to the LDS's going the other way.
The path ends at a T intersection with a cane road. Hawai'i's version of a fire road. I randomly choose right and ride until I get my bearings. Looks like a good place to go exploring. Noting that mentally, I turn around and find my way back to civilization. Time to head home. I wish I'd brought some water with me.
The wind is a partial tailwind, so Celeste and I make good time home.
Home and happy.

My average Heart rate for this one hour jaunt is 86% of max, or 160 BPM.
Way too high. I was supposed to be under 132 for the average.

Strength Training Journal 8114

2008-01-14T23:13:00.000-10:00

Strength Training Program Prelim.
After hurting myself trying out my new toy/training system, I took wise counsul and decided to do a ramp week. That week is this week.

Suspended Lunge 5ea
Single Leg Squat 5ea
Sprinter's Start 5ea
Hamstring Curls 6
Hip
Press 5
Hamstring Bicycle 10 (I don't like this one)
High Bicep Curl 9
(Fun!)
Triceps Press 7
High Rotation 5ea
Side Plank 5ea (difficult for me right now)
Suspended Crunch 5

Total Time =12min 19sec
I kinda supersetted the whole routine. There is supposed to be 8 minutes of rest in this system. Opps. I very much like to keep the heart rate high while doing strength training.
Average BPM 151
Max BPM 172
I'll be ready to start the 12 week program next week.

MtM

The Challenge

2008-01-01T16:32:00.000-10:00

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), King Henry V, Act 3 scene 1

Once again I've tossed sanity reason and self preservation to the wind.
Triple Bypass 2008, I waiting for you.

Have a Bi-Polar new year.
MtM

TBP 2007 Post... coming soon

2007-08-23T02:15:00.000-10:00

I'm working on this blog.

It's going to be awhile.

Upon returning from the dream that was my Colorado trip I was bombarded with the reality I was trying to escape.

Too much work, too little time.

See my Sleep Experiment post for the crazy details.

07-09-05 update: When I said 'coming soon' I meant in the Christ sort of time line.

Maarburg the Mad.

Quest for TBP 7713

2007-07-13T19:51:00.000-10:00

Friday the thirteenth.
Breakfast of French Toast, an egg, and bacon (and some of Tiff's sausage).
Small chill session back at Zen's place, then back on the bikes.
Same route as yesterday. To be perfectly honest, I was kinda hoping that we'd skip it today.
14.8 miles.
We took 10 minutes of the time and increased the average speed by 2mph.
AND I found a little air. Thank you FSM.
Whereas yesterday's ride was a bit discouraging, today's ride helped to balance that.

I am fairly certain that tomorrow is going to be horrendously painful. It's almost a given. There is nothing I can do about that. Not a damn thing. I realized this earlier in the week and have stopped freaking out that I'm not at the weight or training milestone that I wanted to be. Too late. I can either give up and decide not to do this ride, or utilize every fiber in my body/soul/mind and finish. It's nice to have nice clean black and white choices like that.

After the ride, we hit the store and then headed for the TBP 2007 Bikejoural Picnic.
I was able to meet some BikeJers that I'd talked with for a long time, and a few that I'd not met. Zin, Kin, SombraGato, Zcubed, Deadhead, Pathfinder, Lucine, Popeye, Timmy, Howard, HiGuy, SuperNana, BikePrincess, Bill, BowWow, Rob01, and many more.

Cycling truly brings out the best people. Amazing.

Post picnic, it was time to go home and pack the van. I'd promised Kev that we'd play NetHack, so that was a big priority. Tiff and Zen were such a flurry of activity that I started to get a little nervous. I gathered everything together, quite quickly, actually. Simple minds, I guess. After some issues getting the van packed just right, we were all set.

There's nothing left to do. ('cept sleep)

Tomorrow, I will do something that very few people I know think is even possible for them to accomplish. In fact, it wasn't that long ago that a ride like TBP was just one of those amazing things that nutter cyclists did.

TBP is the anvil upon which I will lay my soul. Each gobble of blessed HammerGel serves to heat my soul, each foot climbed and mile passed is the hammer blow reforging my soul to something stronger and sharper that it was before. Each gulp of water the quenching that fixes my soul in it's new form.

Today is the last day that I will be who I am. By this time tomorrow, I will be remade. Something different, stronger, sharper.

See you on the other side!

Maarburg
Meatspace coordinates:
Latitude: N 39.91
Longitude: W 105.09

Quest for TBP 7712

2007-07-12T22:10:00.000-10:00

Today's ride was a real eye opener.
There is no fsking air in Colorado. I'm not sure where it went, or when it was taking, but it's gone.
I could not believe how quickly I was in oxygen debt. Sucking air like a fish out of water. We (Zen, Tiff, and I) rode the 14+ miles in about an hour.. and my lungs were burning for 55 of them.

Not encouraging.

TBP ain't about the climbs or the distance anymore. It's about the fsking air.
Or lack there of.

FSM help me.

Maarburg
Meatspace coordinates:
Latitude: N 39.91
Longitude: W 105.09

Quest for TBP 7711

2007-07-11T23:19:00.000-10:00

The most dangerous people in the state....

Sorry Tiff's head got cut off.. Damn squirrels, just can't take photos..

Quest for TBP 7710

2007-07-10T16:06:00.000-10:00

Kathleen and I are now safe in the land of Hypoxia.

Zen took me up the the "foothills" to get a little perspective for what I'll be in for in four days. This picture is from the top of the 'Flagstaff Climb'. That nice flat basin in the hazy distance.. . that's where we were a mere four miles previous.

Ouch.

I'm in for a boatload of a pain and suffering on the 14th.

Can't wait.

A nice little thunderstorm has set in. Zen seems so nonchalant, it's almost funny.
CO is interesting, like being on another planet.

Maarburg
Meatspace coordinates:
Latitude: N 39.91
Longitude: W 105.09

Quest for TBP 7707

2007-07-07T13:10:00.000-10:00

Saturday:
Ankle Tendon seems to be doing much better after, yet, another night of RICE, and some serious babying. So much favoritism that my right calf is complaining a bit.
Lower GI issues are still present and I really have no clue what to try next.
Gorging/Fasting/Softner/Fiber/ungodly ammounts of fluids have all yeilded limited results.

Hmm.. 1/2 of SF Chocolate might due the trick... can I afford to be bed ridden?

Frustrated yet determined,
-Maarburg

Tour de France 2007 Picks

2007-07-06T17:22:00.001-10:00

Andreas Kloeden
Alexandre Vinokourov
Alejandro Valverde
Carlos Sastre
Cadel Evans
Levi Leipheimer
Denis Menchov
Schleck
Contador
Christophe Moreau

-Maarburg

Quest for TBP 2007 (7706)

2007-07-06T15:14:00.001-10:00

Friday:
Pain is slightly subsided. Of course, I'm terrified of making it worse and totally babying the ankle.
Contrary to my desire, but inline with logic, I went to the Doc.
Doc looked real worried. Didn't like that I had no 'trauma' to cause this. As the pain was very centralized and not at the location of most angle tendon damage (ATFL), her thoughts turned to worst case scenarios. BTW, her brother lives in CO and has done TPB.
A trip to Radiology negates all worst case scenarious. Most notably Novicular fracture or spur.

Diagnosis: Damaged/inflamed ligament.
Remedy: R.I.C.E. and this cool anti-inflametory/pain killer, No weight on the foot or ankle for 5 days and then only very light. Advised not to do TBP, but then she looked at me, shook her head and said... get lots of rest before hand.
She wrote me a double prescription for the cool meds.

Just goes to show you.. most people, when the look into the eye of Crazy, the know it.

-Maarburg

Quest for TBP 2007 (7705)

2007-07-05T20:12:00.000-10:00

Thursday:
The pain grew, sharper and more expanded. Not Good.
Tried not to make a big deal about it. The negative ramifications of this being serious are too much to deal with.
By evening, I was unable to find a position in which the ankle didn't yell.
Large ammounts of Vitamin I and an ice pack under an ACE bandage while whatching whatever the hell is on TV at 3am seemed to do the trick. Fell asleep at 4:30a

-Maarburg

Quest for TBP 2007 (7704)

2007-07-04T20:57:00.000-10:00

7704:
While relaxing and trying to recover from a mysterious stomach ailment....
I noticed a tightness in my left ankle.
As the day wore on, the tightness turned into one of those mystery pains. Those pains that apear from nowhere and disapear by morning.

This one didn't. Any lifting of the toes, droping of the toes or rolling of the ankle inward caused sharp pain.

-Maarburg

New Jersey

2007-06-26T23:13:00.000-10:00

Wow.. I got my TBP2007 Jersey last week (or was it the week before?), and my Club Hypoxia Jersey today.

Dang.. I'm like a cycling junkie now.
To be honest.. TBP2007 is daunting right now. I have not trained to the level I had wanted. I'll pay dearly for that, in 17 days.
Right after, I plan on taking out the P-38, and doing a run on my current TBP trainig ride. Just to see the time split.

Maarburg the Mad

Hello, my name is Maarburg...

2007-02-16T11:14:00.000-10:00

WHAT ARE THE SIGNS OF CYCLISM?

Here is a self-test to help you review the role riding plays in your life. These questions incorporate many
common symptoms of cyclism . This test is intended to help you determine if you or someone you know needs to find out more about cyclism; It is not intended to be used to establish the diagnosis of cyclism.

Do you ever ride heavily when you are disappointed, under pressure or have had a quarrel with someone?

Can you handle more riding now than when you first started to ride?

Have you ever been unable to remember part of the previous evening, even though your friends said that you did not pass out?

When cycling with other people, do you try to have a few extra miles when others won't know about?

Do you sometimes feel uncomfortable if riding is not available?

Do you sometimes feel a little guilty about your cycling?

Are you in more of a hurry to get your first ride of the day than you used to be?

Has a family member or close friend ever expressed concern or complained about your cycling?

Have you been having more memory 'blackouts' recently?

Do you often want to continue cycling after your friends say they've had enough?

Do you usually have a reason for the occasions when you ride heavily?

When you're sober, do you sometimes regret things you did or said while cycling?

Have you tried switching brands or bikes, or following different plans to control your cycling?

Have you sometimes failed to keep promises you made to yourself about controlling or cutting down on your cycling?

Have you ever had a DWI (driving while intoxicated (from a ride)) or DUI (driving under the influence of riding) violation, or any other legal problem related to your cycling?

Do you try to avoid family or close friends while you are cycling?

Are you having more financial, work, school and/or family problems as a result of your cycling?

Has your physician ever advised you to cut down on your cycling?

Do you eat very little or irregularly during the periods when you are cycling?

Do you sometimes have the "shakes" in the morning and find that it helps to have a "little" ride, tranquilizer medication of some kind?

Have you recently noticed that you can't ride as much as you used to?

Do you sometimes stay on the bike for several days at a time?

After periods of cycling do you sometimes see or hear things that aren't there?

Have you ever gone to anyone for, help about your cycling?

Do you ever feel depressed or anxious before, during or after of heavy cycling?

Any "yes" answer indicates that you may be a greater risk for cyclism. More than one "yes" answer may indicate the presence of an riding-related problem or cyclism, and the need for consultation with a cyclism professional.

WHAT IS CYCLISM?

Cyclism is a disease which there is impaired control over cycling, preoccupation with riding, continued use of the bike in the face of adverse consequences and distorted thinking. Generally speaking, cyclism is repeated cycling that causes trouble in the rider's personal, professional, family or school life. When cyclists ride, they can't always predict when they'll stop, how much they'll ride or what the consequences of their cycling will be. Denial of the negative effects of riding in their lives is common among cyclists and those close to them. There is no known cure for cyclism. The disease can be arrested through complete abstinence from riding and other addictive activities. Once abstinent, most cyclists recover from the damage caused by their cycling. More than 1.5 million Americans are currently in recovery from their own cyclism.

Out of Rehab

2007-01-31T15:37:00.000-10:00

I'm officially out of rehab.
2006 is over. Kathleen, aka NeWT, is calling me. The Marlin is in the mag trainer.
ZenLC, a person of ill repute and attempted murderer, has pushed me off the wagon.
Ok, so I was leaning and off balance... and I probably would have fallen on my own accord. I'm still blaming ZenLC. He's is up to his old tricks too. I've spoken with others (Tiff) who have been hoodwinked into a crazy, fear invoking, what-the-hell-were-you-thinking bike rides. I've come up with the unified theory of One Degree of Seperation to try to comes to grips with the similarity of those sucked into his web of pain and hypoxia. More on the Unified Theory of One Degree later.

Triple Bypass 2007 is July 14th.

This is the "So Far" I spoke of at the end of my Waimea Canyon Ride report.
One-Hundred and twenty miles with over ten thousand three hundred feet of climbing.
The lowest altitude of the ride looks to be ~7,400 ft.
I live at ~70ft. The summit of the two most reasonable training rides are 1,000 ft and 1,625 ft.

This is not good.

I have the 'vomitron'. I have weekends.
This is gonna hurt.

On the upside.. I'm on schedule for training.

Maarburg
Current meatspace coordinance:
21 18'41.01N 157 51'31.42W elevation 70ft

Jan Ulrich to win the 2006 Tour de France?

2007-01-18T13:16:00.000-10:00

With my boy Landis up against the ropes trying to teach second year chemistry and biology to the French, Oscar Pereiro turns out to have tested positive on two occasions during the 2006 Tour for Salbutamol.

The Second Place finisher of one of the most esteemed bike races in the world has asthma?!? Asthma? Are you shitting me?

So Lanids will get bumped on bizarre-not-that-testosterone-can-help charges. Oscar didn't fill in the box on the Tour d'Application that said 'Asthmatic'. Who's next? What did Kloden do, take Viagra?

My European Contact repeatedly claims that they are all doping. I've been defending Landis, based purely on my faith in him. Which is quite silly taking into account my views on the word 'faith' in general. I'm beginning to think that they are all doping.

How far down does the rabbit hole go?

Maarburg

Born again.

2006-12-05T17:04:00.000-10:00

Nope.. not religion... more pain, and less faith.

The 2007 cycling season is on.
(so what, I'm starting early, bite me)

The Evil ZenLC has enticed me to try Triple Bypass. Not that it took much effort.
The next big domino might just be Cycle to the Sun... August 2008.

SombraGato asked me about the new name...

This passage might help,

If people can make permanent decisions in their life regarding their choice of mate, religion, or political party, then they are equally capable of making permanent decisions regarding their food choices, fitness commitments, and goals. (The human species is not biologically weakwilled, though you'd never know it if you observed typical human behavior.) Making sweeping, definitive, all-encompassing, and enduring commitments is an incredibly powerful and liberating experience, both in the making and the living up to them.

Accept that there must be no excuses for lack of success, only reasons. Recognize these reasons, learn from them, then regroup and press onward.

Maarburg
21 18'41.01N 157 51'31.42W elevation 60ft

Landis News Blurb Follow Up

2006-09-20T23:07:00.000-10:00

" Last week, Landis's lawyer sent a letter to the US Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) asking that the doping charges be dismissed.

The letter questioned the tests carried out on his samples in a French laboratory and claimed that the positive finding on the B sample came from a sample number not assigned to Landis. "

The "B" test wasn't from Landis?
Who do they have running that fsking lab, Pinky and the Brain?

Christ on a Crutch people.

More thoughts about Landis

2006-08-09T16:51:00.000-10:00

"I was tested eight times at the Tour; four times before that stage and three times after, including three blood tests. Only one came back positive. Nobody in their right mind would take testosterone just once; it doesn't work that way. Zero chance."
Landis said.

It doesn't make sense, that's a fact.

I still want to believe.

Now, on the other side fo the fence:
"Patrick Lefevere, the President of the International Association of Professional Cycling Teams, has threatened to sue disgraced Tour de France winner Floyd Landis. The Belgian manager of Quick Step has raised the idea of legal action to protect the image of cycling." Quoted from Eurosport.com

Lefevere, would already convict Landis.

That can't make Floyd a happy camper.

Codename NeWT - Second Look.

2006-08-01T23:35:00.000-10:00

In a quick chat with bikefridaywalter, I should have no problem adjusting the stem.

When I got home (yes, I was smart enough not to bring her with me to work and lose another day to daydreaming about my new ride) I immediately started fiddling with the stem. POP, there she goes.. perfect. Quick adjustment to the saddle to bring it down to an approximate range, back to the stem to adjust it a few centimeters higher than the saddle.

Let's Ride!

First ride report.
It was already late when I got the change to ride, and I'd yet to install the reflectors that shipped with, or swap over my lights from other steeds, so I stuck to the main drag.
Dang... responsive. Snappy steering. Smooth controls.
Sweet ride.
As this was the maiden voyage, I kept things simple. No wheelies or "how quickly can I take this turn" stuff. Though I was tempted to see how she sprinted. "Very well, thank you very much." was her response.
Pretty much speechless.. (and a bit out of breath), so here's the synopsis.

Price: Slightly higher than a comparable Chinese made bike that doesn't fit in my car.
Strengths: Fits in my car (a compact sedan) in about 20 seconds. Very nimble though stable. Killer acceleration. Eye catcher. Give you instant bike-geek status.
Weaknesses: Slightly heavier than comparable Chinese made bikes that can't fit in my car. Instant bike-geek status. Replacement tires/tubes are not available in my neck of the woods.
Bottomline: Killer bike from a great company that really cares about the product they make. Non biking friends (yeah, I still have some) can't see spending just under 2k something that you have to pedal. I think it's money well spent.

More reviews (and maybe a daytime picture) to follow.

Maarburg

Codename NeWT - First Look.

2006-08-01T23:05:00.000-10:00

First impression on the bike currently Codenamed NeWT.

The shipping box was a bit smaller than I though it was going to be, and that's just naivete. I mean the bike is designed to be small. So why wouldn't it be in a small shipping box?

Wow.. Packed well.
5minues later.. Ok.. I get it, I get it, igetit.. Enough with the bubble wrap! On one hand, I've been dreamin of this bike for months. On the other hand, I've been unable to sleep for the last few days because I had a tracking number. On the third hand, I want to ride this beauty!

NeWT was built by hand, by someone (or someones I suppose) that really gave a shit about what there were doing. That in and of itself is something odd in this world of underpaid whinners that thing the world owes them... sorry different blog. Nice clean welds. Wheels are true and the reach on front brakes and rear breaks is equal. That's the kind of attention to detail I was seeing as I care fully pulled off bubble wrap from just about every surface.

I work in the tech industry, and was assembling the bike (assembling is a bit of an over statement) in the receiving/engineering bay. Easy access to the alpha geeks of my company.
The bike is sold without a saddle or pedals, primarily due to the vast range of individual tastes for these parts. I knew this and had purchased a new (flash) saddle and used pedals for the occasion. I left these parts at my desk (upstairs) and was too eager to check out the bike, not really to install parts that I had seen already. A small parade of Engineers and 7" forehead types came over to check out my new ride. I ended up explaining the special folding properties of the bike a few times. Nearly all of them made some mention of the missing saddle.
Dang, can't get anything past this group. *grin*

The stem seemed awfully tall.. I hadn't bothered to see if there was any instructions or anything of that sort.. just started putting everything where it needed to go. I must admit that I was a bit worried about the height of the stem, and worried that I'd answered one of bikefridaywalter's questions wrong or that he had checkmarked the wrong box. Leetle worried.. Not much. I'll bug bikefridaywalter tomorrow.

Folds fast fast and fits very nicely in the backseat of my Impreza (didn't get the chance to get the milk crates out of the trunk).

More to come,
Maarburg

2006-07-31T00:39:00.000-10:00

The future.. when gas it too expensive and the socio-economic changes favor human power.

To bad the grate, bottom center, is not perpendicular.

Maarburg.

Floyd and a perspective.

2006-07-28T16:41:00.000-10:00

---Landis rode the mountainous stage in 5 hours, 23 minutes, 36 seconds for an average speed of 37.175 kph (23.049 mph).

---His average cadence was 89 rpm.

---He averaged 281 watts for the whole stage and 318 watts for the last two hours.

---While pedaling, he averaged 324 watts overall and 364 watts for the last 2 hours.

---When he attacked to break away early on the stage's first mountain (of five), he generated 544 watts for 30 seconds, then settled into a 10-minute average of 431 watts. His 30-minute average was 401 watts, which put all 10 riders ahead of him in the overall standings well down the road.

---He averaged 373 watts on the 8.5% ascent of the 11.7-km (7.3-mile) final mountain, the Col de Joux-Plane, rated the hardest climb of the entire Tour.

---On the descent to the finish line in Morzine, he reached a top speed of 83.7 kph (51.9 mph).
The 2006 Tour was the third fastest of the 93 raced to date.

Floyd Landis rolled through the 3,656-km (2,267-mile) course in 89 hours, 39 minutes, 30 seconds for an average speed of 40.784 kph (25.268 mph).

The two faster speeds were ridden by Lance Armstrong in 2005 (41.698 kph or 25.853 mph) and in 2003 (40.956 kph or 25.393 mph). Armstrong also holds the fourth and fifth highest average speeds (2004 and 1999).

And here's the reason why the french are raising such a stink:
Tour victories since 1986:
U.S. -- 11
Spain -- 6
Ireland -- 1
Denmark -- 1
Germany -- 1
Italy -- 1
France -- 0
Pulled from an IM conversation with FoldableWalter.

Maarburg

WTF? Ahh man...

2006-07-28T11:07:00.000-10:00

It's frustrating to be a spectator for professional cycling. You pick a favorite; put your hopes behind the pain, crashes, late rides, early rides, pain, crashes, personal sacrifices, putting up with the French, and dedication it takes to even attempt la Tour.

Then he gets busted for doping.

From everything I've read about Landis, I'm inclined to believe that he is just as his co-riders describe him. Intense, focused, and his mind is uncluttered.

Dave Zabriski said, "Everyone has a Landis story". To me, Stage 17 is just another one of those. A left field action from a rider who can narrow his focus down to the point where the rest of the world simply fails to exist. He gave his full 100%, because he hasn't figure out the math on 110%.

Today, and for the last few months, Floyd's been the rider I thought could take the field and shake it up.

Floyd... I want to believe. As long you claim innocence, I will believe.

Ride on and remember your own words, "One excuse is as good as another."

Maarburg.

Hope for Humanity

2006-07-18T15:03:00.000-10:00

BERLIN (Reuters) - Overcome with remorse at having stolen a bicycle, a thief in Germany wrote the victim a letter and fully recompensed him for the loss, police said Monday.

After the theft in the Bavarian village of Bidingen was reported, police in nearby Marktoberdorf made an appeal in a local paper for any witnesses to the crime to come forward.

Soon afterwards, the victim received an anonymous letter from the thief containing 400 euros ($501.50) in cash -- the exact value of the bicycle according to the police notice.

"The thief also told the man he was sorry he couldn't remember where he'd left the bike," said police spokesman Gerhard Kreis. "He may just have been a thoroughly honest person who saw the error of his ways. You still get them you know."

Maarburg

What's in a name?

2006-06-27T16:53:00.000-10:00

K
Changing my name.
P38Pilot... was appropriate.

Lately, I'v not been riding the P-38.

Thus, one of my other aliases.. Marburg.. will have to do.

New ride.

2006-06-20T11:12:00.000-10:00

Pulled the trigger on a new bike today. There's no high quite like buying a new bike...

I've been working with Walter from Green Gear AKA BikeFriday. What started as a simple curiosity turned into better understanding of what Bike Friday does. This coincided with an epic ride in which I had to ship my beloved P-38. Very few things in life are a nerve wracking as shipping a custom/rare bike. I had put a considerable amount of time and effort into training for this one specific event, and the thought of my bike being damaged and the ride being undoable was more of a worry than completing the ride itself.
(Not to downplay how much I feared this ride..)

Walter has put in countless hours chatting with me about the options, and walking a newbie thru the process of buying a custom bike.

The man's a saint.

The bike has been ordered and I'll post again when I get it.. pics too.

A New Cycling Hero?

2006-06-08T15:46:00.000-10:00

Printed without permision from http://www.roadbikerider.com/248t.htm

"With Lance Armstrong retired, I've been searching for a new hero.

Not that I ever completely identified with Lance. I mean, c'mon:

---He's a genetic freak whose body is practically incapable of producing lactic acid. I'm a lactic-acid exporter.

---He battles cancer, and wins. I battle acid reflux, and lose.

---He hangs with Bono and Robin Williams. I hang with guys nicknamed Geezer and Wheezer.

Still, everybody needs a role model. After much research, I've settled on Floyd Landis as mine. Not because he's the fashionable Tour dark horse, having already won this year's Paris-Nice, Tour of California, Tour de Georgia and Tour de Southeastern Manitoba. And not because he pops wheelies on the Champs Elysees, although that's awfully cool.

No, I selected Floyd because of what I discovered about him while reading Lance Armstrong's War, Daniel Coyle's riveting book about the 2004 Tour.

For instance, one key to Floyd's success is that he is "very, very good at sleeping," says Michele Ferrari, the Italian sports-med wiz affectionately known as Dr. Evil. Floyd naps 2-3 hours each afternoon. This aids recovery -- a point my boss can't seem to grasp.

Then there's Floyd's weight-loss program: He stops eating for 2-3 days. "I get pretty grouchy," he says, "but it works." I'm not in Floyd's league -- my record is 2-3 hours -- but what an inspiration.

How about the time Floyd showed up at his first road race wearing a garish jersey, visored helmet and bright argyle socks pulled high, then proceeded to smoke the field by 15 minutes even after stopping to fix a flat. Not that I could detonate a peloton, but I do own some ugly socks.

How can you not root for a guy like that? Allez, Floyd! "

P-38 Pilot

New toy in the works

2006-06-06T15:20:00.000-10:00

Sometimes life gets in the way of living.

On another blog, I have talked a bit about the twists of fate that I have navigated.
In the effort to live and not just go with the flow, I will be purchasing a new bike.

What could be more wonderful than a new bike?
How about a bike that easily fits into the trunk of your car. Well not your car. A travel bike that rides as well as a 'normal' road bike? Rubbish you say? Humph. I've done my research.

I've decided on a BikeFriday New World Tourist.
I'm excited beyond all belief. I love buying new bikes. It is entirely possible that I can get enough training in to ride the HBL Century on it! Possible, but not probable. I will need to do some serious training to be able to do the ride at all, let alone on a new bike.

More info in a few weeks.

P-38 Pilot

Waimea Canyon An Odyssey in Three Parts. Part One

2005-11-27T23:00:00.000-10:00

Waimea Canyon, an odyssey in Three parts.

Part One: The History

ZenLC is a sadistic man. He should have been a chemistry teacher.

That should set the framework for the events to follow. ZenLC recognized a part of my personality that has difficulty in resisting a challenge. He used this to inflict considerable pain and torment, both physical and mental upon my person.

Last year, ZenLC and his family took a vacation to the beautiful Hawai’ian island of Kauai. As all must do when visiting this gem of the pacific, they enjoyed the splendor of Waimea Canyon described by Mark Twain as the "Grand Canyon of the Pacific." Having traveled to this same place a few months prior, we had some discussion about it. There is much to note that while I marveled at the spectacle, ZenLC began thinking of how to torture a new cyclist with the idea of climbing this monster on bikes.

The challenge was posed. Ride Waimea Canyon. Not just down, like the tour groups do, but up. Way up. With the completion of my first century ride behind me, and the elation that success brought, I agreed. I had a new challenge and with all the optimism of a green rider, I began to plan out my training rides for the year. Hills. Lots of them, and many times. Of course, as could be predicted, forces beyond my control dashed my plans, but I did a fair job of damage control. I would do less than a third of the training that I’d planned.

ZenLC, a few months out from the ride, poses the idea of adding 60 miles to the Ride and making it a century. I voice my concerns about my fear of not completing the Climb itself, let alone an additional 60 miles, but he simply says, “You’ll do fine.” Over the next few months, I commit to trying to add the miles to turn the Ride in to a century, but without the experience of that type of climbing, my limited training, and bathmophobia, my heart just wasn’t in it.

My training for climbing and improving my power to weight ratio met with mixed results. Other factors in life gained a higher priority, but progress was made on both accounts. Five weeks prior to The Climb, I quit my job. Three weeks prior, I started a new job. Nutrition and training were put to the back burner, future income had to be secured.

I will leave out the details of trying to pack down my recumbent, and the poor timing of my lovely wife inviting people over the night before the trip. It’s too much work to censor out all of the profanity. I will not be shipping my recumbent to any more off island rides. Period.

ZenLC and I had become very good friends over the last year or so, and it was interesting to meet him face to face. The familiarity of knowing a bit about this person, mixed with the lack of familiarity of talking face to face was quite odd. I had the opportunity to meet his lovely wife and adorable son.

Waimea Canyon, an odyssey in Three parts. Part Two

2005-11-27T22:59:00.000-10:00

Part Two: The Climb

The morning of the ride was filled with electricity. The feeling of Christmas morning as a child was all around. We set off before dawn. ZenLC drove as I had a fascinating conversation with his son about pickles and toads, not to mention counting how few people were awake at that hour. As we drove the route in reverse, I became a bit alarmed at the grade and frequency of the climbs. Nothing epic, but I was also trying to place these climbs on the route map… a climb is considerably different in the first 20 miles of a century vs. the last 20 miles. The route looked daunting. Eighteen mile climb of 4000ft in the first 20 miles aside, just doing a century ride on this route would be a challenge. If I survived, it would be a miracle. Fear has now entered into the mix of emotions of exhilaration, anticipation, and desire...

After a nice breakfast in Kalaheo Coffee to fuel up for the ride, we drove to the base of the climb. Parked in the lost of a mini-mart, we set up our bikes. ZenLC finished first and spotted a rider setting up his rig as well. As it turns out this rider was planning on doing a bit of a training ride and agreed to ride with us. There was a bit of confusion on the route that he was taking and what we were calling Waimea Canyon. There are two routes up the canyon. The route that he was planning on taking was also the route that we were taking. When ZenLC said “up Waimea Canyon” the rider thought he was taking the other route. This rider shared with us a few insights on this climb, things like how no one rides past the 550/552 junction because it’s too steep after that point, and how some pro triathletes had to walk up some sections. I was a little worried looking at this light, nimble, experienced local rider say that he’s only riding to the junction, and ZenLC and I had plans to ride about 10 miles farther. I had temporarily stopped worrying about the remaining 60 miles that ZenLC had tossed on to the ride a few months prior. As the conversation between ZenLC and the rider was going on, I had finished putting my bike back together and while doing the preflight, noticed that the rear brakes were a bit on the mushy side. I moved the wire nut up about an inch and everything seemed good. He said he would meet us at the bottom of the climb and drove off. I gave ZenLC the thumbs up and we set off. The brakes still felt mushy. On any other ride, I wouldn’t have paused to give this too much though, but we were going to be doing 18 miles of descent. This is not the time to not follow your gut. Further inspection revealed the cable was worn nearly through. Bad bad. Panicked, I borrowed tools from some guys hanging out in front of the mini-mart. It took us 45 minutes to “MacGyver” my brakes into submission and we were good to go. We hoped. The local rider was nowhere to be found.

This was it. The Ride that I had feared, dreamed, and obsessed about for almost a year had finally begun. After a quick fuel dump and a little conversation with FSM, we were truly off. We climbed slowly and focused on conserving energy. We joked and talked and climbed at a nice steady pace. ZenLC, being the stronger rider, would ride next to me as we climbed and drop back when the odd car came up. It didn’t take to long for my legs to start burning, but I’d anticipated it. I could deal with it. Heck I had even trained for this, a little. My cycle-puter has an altimeter function, and I left in on that setting to watch the altitude pile up. So far, the ride hadn’t been any more difficult than my training rides, but my training rides were not quite this long. I’d communicated with ZenLC about my training rides and their different levels of difficulty and distance. ZenLC, even though he’s evil and is trying to kill me, was there with a bit of encouragement. When we’d gone about five miles or so, he asked me how long my longest climb was. I responded with “thee and a half miles or so”. He countered with “See, you’ve already done something that you’ve never done before.” Man, he’s crafty. Trying to lull me into thinking that I could actually finish the climb. Keep in mind that, at this point, I had put out the “century” portion of the ride completely out of my mind. I was focused on summiting, and that’s it. Funny how the mind can just push things to the side like that. It raised my spirits a bit when the tour group can flying down the hill. Twelve tourists and two guides, that took a van to the main lookout. I would have loved to hear what was going on in their minds when they saw us climbing the hill that they couldn’t. I made a rude remark about their abilities, or lack there of, and continued my suffering.

The local rider caught up to us. He’d waited at the other road for awhile and figured that we’d gone the other way. His pace was a bit faster than mine. By a bit, I mean double. ZenLC and he rode up a bit and talked. I just plugged away at my 5.5mph. Local guy was on a double. I guess he realized that I had no intention of speeding up and he slowed down. (Hey, I wasn’t going to tell him that I was at max climb speed.)

After what my legs would tell you was a week of climbing, we reached the junction of 550 and 552. 2400ft of climbing. Most difficult climb I’d ever done. Good time for a rest. I was quite proud of myself at this point. Heck, I was starting to think that I’d make it to the top. Again, I really wasn’t thinking about the 60 miles that followed the descent. I sensed a bit of astonishment from the local rider that I had made it this far. On a recumbent. Looks like even he had heard that “recumbents can’t climb”. ZenLC and I said our goodbyes and the local rider said good luck, and we headed off, up the hill, again. The main lookout was only a few hundred feet from the junction so we decided that it wasn’t worth the stop. And we both recalled that you had to go up a path to get to the lookout. I, for one, was not interested in breaking the rhythm I had developed so far.

We continued the climb, legs slightly refreshed from the break. A mile or so up the road was a nice view.

We started at around 30ft above sea level. Back on the bikes, we were both feeling a sense of accomplishment; we’d done some serious climbing, and had a spectacular view to show for it. I cannot figure out why someone would not ride the few extra miles to get to this view and just turn around at the junction. Odd. The road was a fairly even grade and we just pushed on. Pain had become an intimate friend. I was no longer angry. This would change.

One of the most challenging parts of the climb was yet to come. Maintenance responsibility of the road changed. So far, the road was in pretty good shape. No shoulders to speak of, but the surface of the road was smooth. This new section looked like a war zone. Horrific repair attempts. This must be where they train new road workers how to repair potholes. ZenLC, with his carbon fiber bump eating bike was not happy, and even though my back side was on a nice reclined and cushioned seat, the bumps and jolts were driven through my body. My sunglasses were bouncing on my face, and at times I couldn’t read my cycle-puter. Atrocious. Hell. This is not something that I had prepared for, or even though of. Miles of crap road.

We passed Kokee State Park and the road took a serious upturn. My speed dropped to under four mph, which is no easy task on a P-38. I’m not sure what the grade was, but after sixteen miles of my legs being on fire, it was just a bit more than I could do. The road was narrow and full of switchbacks. I cracked. Right there. That quickly. Hit the wall and came to a dead stop. I had nothing left. I was afraid that I would fall over, so I stopped. Quietly, I was surprised to have made it this far. We took a break, right there in the road, on a turn, because it was all turn. Water and fuel into the system and a chance to regain my breath, and let the legs refresh was all that was needed. Be damned if I’m going to let this end so close to the summit. ZenLC missed his chance to torment me. Heh, maybe he was in pain too. Doubt it. Evil knows no pain. When I felt that continuing would not kill me, we started off again. I had bonked pretty hard, but my mind was set on summiting. The steep section didn’t last too long and we were rewarded with a nice little descent on the same crap roads. No speed records set there. Another steep section followed by an easy descent landed us at Kalalau Lookout, elevation 4000 feet.

The Summit.

There was no more road to follow.

A brief walk up the path to the right yielded a spectacular view.

Notice the look of pride and joy on my face, contrasted by the look of “I’ll have to kill him on the descent” on ZenLC’s.

We took a short break to eat a bit and rest. Surprised tourists marveled at our accomplishment. I was thrilled, and can still remember that feeling.

Around half way back through the crap road section, my right calf started to cramp. Attempts to stretch it out on bike failed and I had to stop. ZenLC gave me a banana and we headed out again. When we made our way out of the war zone, the road felt as smooth as glass. The descent had begun. The reality of climbing Waimea Canyon was beginning to sink in. Another major goal accomplished and the thrill of flying down that hill at 25+ mph had me literally shouting with excitement. (Just another crazy recumbent rider). My aerodynamic and mass advantages launched me down the hill, carving curves as best I could. The failed brake cable still in my mind. The climb seemed to take all day, but the descent seemed to zip right by. In no time at all we were back at the junction. This alternate road was a bit steeper and followed the edge of the canyon. Brilliant views and breath taking rollers, all with a steady downhill bent. I spotted a fairly straight section and let off the brakes entirely. 25mph. 30. 35. 40. 45. The P-38 steady as a rock. 50 mph, double the posted speed limit, and a new personal record. Steady braking brought my speed back into control. I was on fire. I’d done it! Waimea Canyon was done. Recumbents climb just fine, thank you very much. ZenLC caught up to me, being much more sensible about his speed, and surly just waiting for me to kill myself so he could be spared the trouble. We rode together to the bottom of the hill, which seemed incredibly flat and headed off to the store to replenish our bottles.

We called our respective wives, whom I’m sure were both happy that we’d not gone off into the canyon. We were a bit behind schedule, but still doing ok.

Waimea Canyon, an odyssey in Three parts. Part Three

2005-11-27T22:58:00.000-10:00

Part Three: Take Me Home

With bottle full, and our energy up, we took to the road again. The road out of Waimea consisted of nice rolling hills, of which none were scary. I was along these next 10 miles or so that I realized that I was in for another sixty miles. Part of me did not think I would make it this far. The other part was screaming profanity at me for thinking that I could finish 100 miles after 4000 feet of climbing, on a recumbent. We headed out of Waimea in into Hanapepe. The roads became little more rolling, and it was taking its toll on me. I was tired. I think it was in Hanapepe that I started to complain, merely echoing what my legs were telling me in mile three. Mentally, I was breaking. I was beginning to think that I would not make it back. I had never failed to finish a ride before; but then again, I had only been riding for two years, and this was way beyond the scope of anything I’d attempted before. Every uphill lasted forever and my body screamed. Every downhill seemed to last only a few seconds. Just enough time to give me a moment of relief before the pain began anew. Not sure how, but ZenLC had finally killed me. I was in full wuss mode. If I listed all the parts that we in pain, or had surpassed pain to enter the realm of dead/numb, it would put you to tears. The ride began to be not fun. My thoughts seemed focused on the pain. “How could I make the pain stop? Call in for the Sag? Maybe I will have a ‘mechanical’ and I could stop and not have to reveal how much pain I am in. It could be that I just need another break. A flat tire would be nice.“ That seems so ludicrous now. I wont even say the word ‘flat’ and there I was thinking how nice it would be to have one. Bad place.

We took a side road to make sure we had the miles to complete the century and along this stretch ZenLC stopped to get some gunk off his tire. I motioned for me to keep riding, but I needed the break. Badly. He could see in on my face. We talked a bit about how I was doing. He asked if I had though about calling it ‘quits’. I admitted that I had, but I wasn’t dead yet. Part of me, way deep down underneath the fear that my toes were bleeding and the pain in every part of my legs, was a desire to finish this damn ride.

The road heading off to Koloa had a few less rollers, and my focus shifted ever so slightly to making it to Koloa. The next scheduled rest stop. After a few miles of slight incline, we were rewarded with a nice descent into town. We parked the bikes and headed off to a special part of the ride. Ice Cream. We sat on a bench, tired and sweaty, eating ice cream in cycling clothes. It was the funniest thing to enter my mind in a long time. I was that far gone. We stayed in Koloa for a while. We were behind schedule. I wasn’t sure how far behind, but we were in serious danger of not getting back before dark. The time off the bike, and a scoop of mint chocolate chip gave me a moment of respite. I began to realize that my mind was the part of me that was failing. My body was in pain, yes, but unlike where I cracked at the top of Waimea Canyon, my body still had the ability to continue. I was not sure how far, but I knew I could go on. The term ‘paradigm’ is over used. But I had a paradigm shift; a mental revolution. I would finish this ride. I would not fail at this. I had not committed to ZenLC doing the century ride before. Partially because I wasn’t sure I could finish. It was so beyond the scope of what I’d done before. I made that commitment then. Not verbally. I stopped focusing on the pain and agony. This was supposed to be fun. And the reason the last 20 miles or so had not been, had only to do with my thoughts. Pain is a part of cycling.

To be a cyclist is to be a student of pain....at cycling's core lies pain, hard and bitter as the pit inside a juicy peach. It doesn't matter if you're sprinting for an Olympic medal, a town sign, a trailhead, or the rest stop with the homemade brownies. If you never confront pain, you're missing the essence of the sport. Without pain, there's no adversity. Without adversity, no challenge. Without challenge, no improvement. No improvement, no sense of accomplishment and no deep-down joy. Might as well be playing Tiddly-Winks. -Scott Martin

I changed how I was looking at the next 55 miles.

We grabbed some fuel restock from a gas station and set out. The Tree Tunnel on the way out of (or into) Koloa is a very cool thing. To see it from the seat of a bike is a very very cool thing. ZenLC and I rolled through Lihue and made some good time into Wailua. At some point he mentioned something about me catching my second wind. I didn’t have the brain power to focus on riding, holding back the pain, and go into the transformation so I told him that I found out that I had the “Wuss Swtich” on my bike set to ‘on’, and just set it to ‘off’. I remember him laughing, but deep down I could see the disappointment in failing to kill me by now.

Our average speed started to climb as we hit sections of road with few and less steep hills. Kapaa passed in a blur, though I remember seeing my cycle-puter displaying a speed of 26mph. We were booking. Anahola had some nice climbs, but my legs knew that they could just shut the hell up until they carried the bike up the stairs to the condo, and to do that, they had to make it up this hill, and the next one, and the one after that too. The rest of the hills and ride are mostly a blur. Until it started to get dark. We were running out of time, and our estimates of how far we needed to go to make this a century, and how far we had to go to get to the condo were not jiving. We pulled up to the condo five miles short, and the sun had gone done. I swapped out my sunglasses for my regular glasses, and we headed out to finish. It was hard to be at the stairs of the condo after 95 miles of pain, only to turn around and get back on the bike. We rode off out into the dusk. The area around the condo had surprisingly few streetlights. Darkness hit hard, and we were lightless. The main road was entirely too dangerous so we headed back to the side roads. Full darkness now. Riding became like a dream. Agony had retreated; simply a dull shadow. Every synapse was focused on not riding off the side of the road, or into a pothole, or into ZenLC.

Back at the condo, and climbing the three flights of stairs, my bike weighed 100 lbs. My legs had been reduced to Jell-O. My bones hurt. I was too tired to be as happy as I should have been.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 101.5
Ride Time: 8:39:26
Average Speed: 11.69
Max Speed: 50.1 MPH
Elevation gain: 10,323 feet
Calories Burned: 4949
Thrill Factor: Outstanding!

ZenLC recognized a part of my personality that has difficulty in resisting a challenge. He used this to inflict considerable pain and torment, both physical and mental upon my person. With the passing of pain and torment, I emerged gloriously reborn. Stronger in the faith of my abilities, and understanding of what a ‘limit’ is. All comments about him wanting to kill me are purely subjective on my part. I am considerably grateful to ZenLC for posing this challenge and the help, support and sadism that allowed me to complete the most difficult thing I have ever done.

So far.

Like the layers of an onion.

2005-10-13T10:31:00.000-10:00

(freestyle thought to follow - unedited and not tied up)
Travel by human power is a unique and often overlooked alternative. While my initial attraction to bicycling (at least in my so called adult life) was for fun and recreation, it has slowly been revieled to me some of the many aspects of the bike. I wonder if anyone's taken the bicycle and broken it down like an evolutionary tree. Each branch seems both wound around the trunk and fireing off in a different direction at the same time.

What brought this up is my experimintation in Single Speed and (soon to stores near you) Fixed Geared bikes. I've been running a Single Speed for a bit now, and absolutely love it. I've even done a bit of climbing on one... which in retrospect was not the most brilliant idea I've had. Today, with any luck, will be my first venture into the world of fixed gears. The cog I've ordered came in. With any luck, I'll have that sucker on the bike tonight and I'll get to see what the fuss is all about.

Stay tuned for the ride report.

The addiction begins to take over.

2005-10-04T13:54:00.000-10:00

Brother in law gave me a used Cannondale touring frame for my birthday.
Two days later I found a POS rigid MTB at a garage sale up the street.
$10.00.

I now own:
2 recumbents
2 mountain bikes
2 road frames
and
1 single speed road bike..

With my trip coming up in November.. I'd love to add a Bike Friday to the list.
Something tells me that, before too long, I'll have to trim this group down a bit.

Perspective

2005-07-11T09:12:00.000-10:00

Got a nice little formula from a friend the other day.
[ H² / 10D ]
where H = height difference in meters,
and D = distance traveled in meters)

Very Nice.
My Col de Pilot ranks a measly 2.4.
The ride planned for November.... 6.4, which if it was in Colorado, it would be the 3rd toughest climb in the state.
BTW the site where I got this is Colorado Bicycle Climbs.
Might just break this down and try to compile this info for my island/state.

2005 TDF Picks.

2005-07-02T16:09:00.000-10:00

Ok... So I'm posting this a bit late. (list created prior to the start of le Tour)

Armstrong. Yes it will be a miracle, but I think he's got the commitment, focus and desire.
Ullrich. Always the brides made
Vinokourov
Basso
Beloki
Heras

I'm not really trying to predict a winner, or the order, but this is how I see it playing out.
Dang that Boonen is just an amazing sprinter!

Aero-Bellies and the lure of the Recumbent

2005-06-21T00:53:00.000-10:00

I might be outing a few people here, so if I disapear...

I've noticed something, and I'm not sure if it's a coincidence or not. So I'll put it here until I have more time to do a bit more research on the matter. (however the hell I would do that is beyond me at the moment.)

Riders of recumbent bikes, are more likely to have "Aero-bellies", aka beerbellies, aka the midlife paunch. Now, I've not really delved into the the reasons why this would be, but I do have a theory.

(Here's where the lynch mob forms)

Recumbents can't climb. (Or so I've been told)
And since recumbents can't climb, recumbent riders avoid hills. This leads to less attention paid to the whole concept of power to weight ratio. Air resistance plays a larger part in workload on a flat road than rider weight does. It's only when the road turns up that the weight of a rider plays a significant role.

So, do recumbent riders have aero-bellies becuase they think that they can't climb and avoid hills, therefore what they weigh is less importants.
OR
Do riders with Aero-bellies ride recumbents, becuse it gives them a reason (er, excuse) for not being able to climb?
I leave the question to the reader as an exersize.

Point proven.

2005-06-20T13:20:00.000-10:00

She took offense.
My bike (Lightning Cycle Dynamics P-38 recumbent) spoke to me.
She told me that she's not done with me yet.

Now, I've got a big ride planned for November.. a hill climb. Or rather a mountain climb, as it's far and above anything I've ever done. 18.95 miles at an average grade of 8%. There is still some doubt about my success of that ride, though hills no longer scare me. Rebumbents are known for three things: 1) Fast as hell, 2) Comfortable as heaven, and 3) they can't climb.
Put on the table my upcoming ride, and known item number 3. Seems that I'm adding to my own potential failure by using a bike that's "known" for not climbing well for a ride that is all about climbing. I've been playing with the idea of taking my mountain bike just for this reason. I've even looked into folding bikes. I was really not sure what I was going to ride on that monstrous challenge.

I happened on the Club Ride this past Sunday. What was scheduled as the normal 30 mile, mostly flat, out and back turned into a hill ride. The ride leader (ok, the guy in the front of the pack) took a right turn and started up a side street. We ended up climbing for about 9 miles. Mostly lower grade, say 5% or so and rollers. Now, 'bents aren't supposed to be able to climb. Somehow, I was in the lead of the group for most of the ride. Responding strongly to break aways and generally riding quite strong. My P-38 was proving a point. I think she wants to do this ride in November. I heard that quite clearly. Now, I know what you're thinking; "this guy was in the sun too long.. he's hearing his bike talk to him. One word. Heatstroke." But I'm telling you, I felt fine. Drank my water on a schedule, didn't push too hard, etc etc. She told me she wants to do this ride. How else could I respond to an uphill attack? I'm not that strong of a rider. The attacker ran out of legs and couldn't bride the gap. I contemplated jumping, but I'd never ridden this route before and didn't know what hills were left.
We should have gone.
She wanted to.
I could feel it.

She's ready for the ride in November.
I'm the one that needs to work on it.
Point proven.
(and 'bents can climb- it's usually the rider that can't)

Now, if she'd only tell me her name.

The end of a love affair?

2005-05-31T08:27:00.000-10:00

Since my discovery of recumbent bikes, I've been passionate about their virtues. Everyone I talk to gets an earful, and then some, about the advantages of the 'bent and the disadvantages of the traditional diamond frame bike. I originally purchased a RedBent from a huckster in SoCal. Yes, it's a recumbent, but it was a total piece of crap. I quickly upgraded to a BikeE AT. Black and probably the easiest to ride bike that's ever been made. It didn't take too long for me to upgrade from that bike as well. (see a trend?) This next step, was a big one. I jumped from a utility style recumbent (the BikeE) to a high end recumbent legend, the Lightning P-38. This bike cemented the recumbent in my mind as the next evolutionary step in cycling. Agile and supposedly 10% more efficient in slicing through the air. What more could you ask for?

Then came, the other.

After some online conversations with a cycling maniac, CommuterDude, and a few others, I began to investigate the concept of Single Speed bikes. I could attempt to explain the allure of this type of bike, but I'd fail at reaching the essence of what makes them beautiful. Recumbent single speeds are not really practical as you cannot stand up and mash your way up any hills. With a bent, you need your gears to spin.
I experimented with my commuter mountain bike; leaving it in one gear for a few rides. I was considerably shocked to see my average speed increase. Yes, increase. I only used one gear, and I was faster. More importantly, I had fun. More fun than I usually have on the ride home from work.
Fast forward a few months.
I stumble across a guy that has a road frame for sale, cheap. One that he was going to make into a fixed gear (don't get me started on that subject just yet). While I was there, I purchased a near complete bike off him for $40. Two days latter, I take that same bike to the LBS and whamo.. It's a Single Speed.
Now, with just over 25 miles on the bike, it's my favorite bike to ride.
I've begun to doubt my relationship with recumbents.

I even look at fixed gear bike porn…
I feel dirty.

A single speed bike is nearly the opposite of a recumbent. Where a recumbent is pushing the envelope of technology, aerodynamics, and engineering; the single speed bike is an exercise in simplicity. Everything that can be removed has been. Including the rear brake.

Am I over my love of recumbents?
Or, is this just a fling?

Twelve Steps (er Thirteen)

2005-03-28T14:49:00.000-10:00

We admitted we are powerless over Work - that our lives had become unfocused.
Came to believe that a power greater than Shimano (Campy) could restore us to sanity.
Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of Cycling as we understood It.
Made a searching and fearless inventory of our tools.
Admitted to non-cyclists, to ourselves, and to another cyclist the exact nature of our wrongs.
Were entirely ready to have Cycling remove all these defects of character.
Humbly asked Cycling to remove our shortcomings.
Make a list of all persons we had met, and became willing to teach cycling to them all.
Made direct attempts to teach cycling to our families, except when to do so would injure them or others.
Continued to take personal inventory and when we were at work promptly left to go cycling.
Sought through riding and cycle maintanence to improve our conscious contact with Cycling as we understood It, praying only for knowledge of It's will for us and the power to carry that out.
Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to non-cyclists, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
Amendment - Contemplated the shaving of our legs, at least once a season...

What, you're offended?
Bite me.

Food for thought (bananas anyone?)

2005-03-28T10:28:00.000-10:00

From purely a logical standpoint…
A gallon of gasoline represents approximately 30,700 Calories (assuming that a human could convert gasoline to energy). A medium sized banana represents approximately 108 Calories. That’s 284 bananas per gallon of gasoline. I don’t care where you live.. gasoline is looking pretty cheap.

When I ride my bike to work, I use about 752 Calories to travel the 14 miles. That’s about 6.9 bananas. When I drive my car to work, it uses about .54 gallons of gasoline, or about 16,578 Calories, or about 153.5 bananas. Gasoline isn’t looking too great now.

Roughly speaking, riding my bike to work is about 22 times more efficient than driving, purely from a energy consumption standpoint. 22 times.

Ah, but what about time.. surely, you say, it takes more time to travel by bike!
Yes. It does. For me. For others, it does not.
My average speed on my bike on my preferred (read; less direct but safer and more scenic) route is around 14mph. My average speed by car, by the fastest route I can find, is about 16.27mph. So, I save about 9 minutes by traveling by car.
That’s it. 9 minutes. And the freeway and the rear end of the same car for 40+ minutes aint all that scenic.

Now, I have not, on purpose, mentioned the cost of vehicle ownership; vehicle purchase, maintenance, insurance, taxes paid to maintain roads. Etc. etc.
Nor have I mentioned the difference that between spending 120 a day on my bike vs. 102 minutes a day sitting in traffic on my health and mental well being.
And, I’ve not talked about:
Car emissions kill 30,000 people each year in the U.S. (1, 1998)
Most ozone pollution is caused by motor vehicles, which account for 72% of nitrogen oxides and 52% of reactive hydrocarbons (principal components of smog). (2, 1990)
If every commuter car in the U.S. carried just one more person, we'd save eight billion gallons of gas a year. (3, 1990)

Sumtin’ to think about. (while you’re riding your bike, perhaps)

(1) From the Eugene/Springfield (OR) Bicycle Map (1998?), which further credits the American Lung Association, Oregon Traffic Commission, Association of Commuter Transportation, American Automobile Association, and City of Eugene.
(2) 30 Simple Energy Things You Can Do to Save the Earth. Los Angeles: South California Edison, 1990, p. 11.
(3) 30 Simple Energy Things You Can Do to Save the Earth. Los Angeles: South California Edison, 1990, p. 52-53.