Sunday, May 22, 2011

Another Early Morning


What was I thinking?  What insanity possessed me to voluntarily wake up at Five a.m. on a Saturday?  Oh, right... a bike ride, my last long-distance training opportunity before the Tour de Cure; my first opportunity to ride with some long-distance 'randonneuring' cyclists that live in the area.  I didn't realize when I agreed to this that I had to drive an hour to get to the Seven a.m. starting point.

So here I was, getting ready to head out the door.  I'd done a lot Friday night - checked tire pressure, filled my water bottles, packed my bike and gear in the car, laid out my clothes, etc...  Still, at Five a.m., it took me a while to get going.  I had a pre-ride breakfast while I made coffee.  I was too sleepy to remember that I have to drink BEFORE eating; I was too sleepy to remember that I also needed to drink extra water that morning.

I hit the door by Six, a water bottle in one hand, two coffee tumblers precariously balanced in the other, and no idea how I'd drink half of it in the time I had.  I needed the water; I needed the caffeine.  But, with a full stomach, I couldn't drink both.  I set aside the the 32 oz of coffee, and replaced it with a 4oz espresso I picked up on the way.  Me, skipping coffee?  At six a.m.?  Madness.  Madness, I say.  The espresso helped.

Knowing that the day would be hot, and that I'd have to fight dehydration all day, I drank the water first, and finished off the espresso when I arrived.  I met Alan and Mike at a McDonald's in North Raleigh.  As they unloaded their gear, they moved like elite soldiers preparing for a mission they'd done a thousand times - No wasted movement, no indecision on what gear to bring, how to carry it, or how to get it out of their trucks.  Everything had it's purpose, everything had it's place.  I was secretly glad I'd arrived early and parked further away, so they didn't see me struggle to get my bike out of the van, add and remove items from my bike and pockets, or change my mind two or three times on how much food to bring, or whether to carry a third water bottle.  With a couple of 100k rides and a 100miler behind me, I thought I'd be less indecisive.  I brought my phone with me for emergencies, but I was determined to leave it turned off in my jersey except at stops where I'd check for important messages.  No e-mail, cell phone, voice mail, IM, twitter, facebook, 4square, yelp, or google this that or the other.

Mike & Alan gave me the rundown on how the day was going to go.  We'd leave McDonald's after breakfast, follow the turn-by-turn cue sheets, stop along the way at predetermined checkpoints ('Controls', in randonneuring parlance), and end up back where we started sometime that afternoon.  Randonneuring isn't about speed - it's about completing the course within a certain, generous time.  No distinctions are made between the first or last finisher.  This sounded like my kind of riding, especially since I was pretty sure I knew who the last finisher would be.

We left McDonald's about 7:15, and right away I discovered that Alan was a talker.  Whenever traffic was light enough, he'd ride side-by-side so he could chat me up.  I discovered that he's part of a dying breed: a truly tough guy who doesn't take 'impossible' as an answer.  At 68 years old, six years after a near-fatal bike accident that required multiple surgeries and six months of rehab, this ride would mark his 24th straight month in which he rode a 200k.  He's ridden 300, 400, and 600k rides this year, and eight years ago rode the oldest and most epic cycling event: the Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200k self-sufficient ride that you have to complete in 96 hours.  To answer the age-old question first posted on a Saturday Night Live skit: "Quién es más macho?"  Alan es más macho.

We took turns leading.  I didn't lead nearly as much as either of them, but when I did, I distinguished myself by missing a turn due to a twisted roadsign; Alan and Mike, who had ridden the route dozens of times, called me back.  We pulled into the first control, a gas station / convenience store, around 10:00.  We refilled our bottles, ate a quick snack, and were back on the road after about 10 minutes.

After a while I realized that, in the midst of Alan telling me his cycling history, he was subtly pouring his collected wisdom into my brain.  Discoveries of what did and didn't work for him on frame materials, frame geometry, food choices, hydration, sleep, maintenance, tire size and design, brakes, etc...  Problems come up in long-distance riding that you just don't see anywhere else.  He was providing me decades worth of trail-and-error results that I truly appreciate.  Mike chimed in with some thoughts of his own.  He had different solutions to similar problems, but I could see the reasons behind each of their decisions.  Each made choices that suited their particular needs, and I imagine that as I struggle to solve the same problems, I'll keep their advice in mind as I find my own solutions that are tailored to MY particular circumstances.

After a while, the need to talk subsided, and we rode on in silence.  The warming sun, a cooling breeze, and the near-silent swish of three well-greased chains were all that accompanied my thoughts as my eyes took in the slowly-changing country scenery.  I rode for miles like this, occasionally interrupted by the sound of an approaching car, or the bark of an unsecured dog that wanted to give chase.

We hit the turn-around point in Black Creek around noon.  We ate lunch as we rested on the bench outside the grocery store.  After about 20 minutes, we hopped back in our saddles and turned our wheels back to Raleigh.  For me, this second half of a ride is always the easiest.  The miles before the halfway point are a mental challenge because there's that annoying inner voice that reminds me how easy it would be to give up and go home.  But after I reach the halfway point, the decision to ride the miles ahead of me has already been made; everything that follows is as inevitable as the setting sun.  Since I no longer have to struggle with my inner weakness, the rest of the ride may as well be downhill with following winds.

At least that's my theory.  My body had other ideas.  By the time we got to the next control, my lower back was hurting and my hands were flirting with numbness.  I did some stretching, which helped, but not enough.  A few miles later, I told Alan to go ahead without me while I stopped to stretch.  Mike had already left us behind, and I strongly suspect that Alan had only been riding with me out of courtesy to the new guy.  After I stretched, I raised my handlebars so I wouldn't put so much strain on my back or weight on my hands.  It made a huge difference.  I caught up with Alan and Mike as they leisurely waited for me at another gas station.  Kindly, they pretended they'd just arrived, and we all took a break and drank some water to help cool off.  When we got back on our bikes, we had just 10 miles to go.

I pulled into the McDonald's around 5:25, put my bike and gear in the van, and went inside to officially complete the trip.  We treated ourselves to dessert, and chatted about the ride.  Yes, I was the last to finish, but I finished, and that's what was important.  It took me just over 10 hours to ride 127 miles, about how long it took for me to ride 100 miles just last month.  I'm quite pleased with that.

When I got back to my van, I discovered two tumblers full of coffee that were still hot.  I drank it all before I got home.

Monday, May 16, 2011

7 O'clock in the WHAT?

My work has flexible scheduling, and I probably get a bit of extra leeway because I commute by bicycle.
So, do I get up early, and ride into work ahead of traffic? Heck no. I wake up, wait for rush hour traffic to end, THEN I ride to work. Mornings were made for sleep. Days where I have to get out the door any time before the ungodly hour of 9:30 require coffee. Coffee is proof that there is a loving God; through it He gives us the strength to bear the unbearable.


I say all this to point out that I'm not a morning person.


Last Saturday, I had group bicycle ride that required me, not to wake up by 7 o'clock, but to to be at the starting point at 7 o'clock. In the morning. A 7 in the MORNING? Who knew? What's worse, the start was 40-50 minutes away by car. When you're up early enough that the coffee shops aren't open when you go out the door, you're up too early. I'm just saying. Since it's been established that coffee is a gift from God, I can't think of a better working definition of "an ungodly hour" than one where you can't buy coffee at one of the local temples, err, coffee shops.


Last week's ride was a nice 100k fundraiser for the Fuquay-Varina United Methodist Church, put on by their "Spiritual Spinners" cycling club. They raised a ton of money for a laundry list of worthy causes. While they were at it, they put on a really great ride. I look forward to riding alongside them on the Tour de Cure next month. More likely behind them - they're faster than me.


I was 'the only' of the ride. The only one with fenders, the only one with disc brakes, the only one without drop bars, the only one with a handlebar bag, and the only one wearing a green jersey. Probably the only one with rain gear in the event that the skies opened up like the weatherman predicted. I suspect, had the rain started, there'd have been a contest to see who could draft behind my fenders. The rain never came, but I was ready for it. It was almost disappointing after the way my last long-distance ride turned out. Almost.

I went with Aesop's Tortoise Strategy for this ride - as few stops as possible, and just keep spinning the pedals. I brought enough fig bars to fuel me the whole distance, enough water bottles to cover half the route. Most riders hit all three stops, & spent more time at each one. I stuck with my strategy, and since the same people passed me two or three times, it seems to have worked.

The ride started at 8, and the noon church bells rang as I pulled into the finish all alone, which was kinda cool, to tell you the truth.


I got in trouble, though.  My wife wanted to be there when I crossed the finish, and she figured I wouldn't finish until 12:30 or later.  Next time?  I'll call her when I hit the last rest stop, and wait until she's waiting for me.  Sure, it'll mean that my overall time will suffer, but making her happy makes me happy.