Christmas Eve Epic

The winter solstice has passed and, to celebrate the infinitesimally longer day, an epic (for a middle aged guy like myself) Saturday ride was in order.  An email sent out to my cycling enthusiast friends advertising spectacular wine and orchard country scenery, several categorized climbs and glorious descents yielded only two hardy souls willing to spend early Christmas Eve morning on their bicycle.

Since I was the ride leader, I selfishly chose a loop starting near my house with a starting point at Metro Perc.  So, with two cliff bars, two water bottles, wallet, and iPhone, I saddled up on the aging Trek US Postal machine and rode to the coffee shop to meet my friends.  Had they whimped out?  It was a 36 degree late December morning after all.  After two miles of soft pedaling, I arrived at the coffee shop.

The friendly folks at Metro Perc were thankfully open on Christmas Eve and, to my pleasant surprise, serving free coffee to cyclists,compliments of Sunset Cycles!  My ride buddies had not yet arrived, so I settled into an espresso machiatto and once again marveled at the creamy smoothness of Stumptown coffee.  Checking the iPhone I learned that Mark was on his way, 10 minutes late.  Paula arrived shortly with her bespoke, freshly built up MB1.  After a few moments of admiring Paula's handywork, Mark arrived with his classic, first generation Kestrel.  The group wasn't interested in free coffee, they came to ride, so we rolled out.  After a few miles, we turned right and started our ascent of Chehelam Mountain, and thus began over 20 miles of almost constant climbing.  Climbing brings views, and with a sunny, by Oregon standards, day, this ride didn't disappoint.

I chose Mountain Top Road to connect Chehelam with Bald Peak over the saddle to avoid having to climb both hills.  Mountain Top is not paved, but it's hard packed and passable by road bike.  Nonetheless, I was concerned for Mark's lightweight tires.  We made it through without a flat or a crash.  However as we connected with Bald Peak road, and the climbing didn't ease up, there were some mutinous rumblings brewing among the peloton.  We finally reached Bald Peak State Park, the summit of our climb for the day.

After that many miles of climbing, I drained my water bottle and choked down a cliff bar.  All of that elevation is lost in a very short time on the west side of Bald Peak in fast and glorious descent before a 10 mile long relatively flat roll-in to the coffee shop.  Mark had family obligations, but Paula and I enjoyed the hospitality of Sunset Cycles at Metro Perc one last time before heading back home to our respective families to celebrate Christmas.

Remembering my first (and only so far) Triathlon

It was the summer before my senior year in high school, 1985. The triathlon was enjoying huge popularity. I was a a budding biking geek, extremely proud of my Trek 560. I was working the 3-11 and night shifts at the Steer Truck stop and logging about 100 miles per day on the bike. I was riding all over the countryside, learning every back road, every farm in the area. I did a lot of my riding at night, after the swing shift was over. I'd ride from 11 PM to 2 or 3 AM. I learned to enjoy the muggy heat of Southern Minnesota nights. On those rides, I rode, stupidly in hindsight, with no lights. I rode by moonlight and starlight. There was no sound but the whirring of my chain, the clicking of gear changes, tires on the pavement, corn stalks stirring in the breeze. There were ripe smells rising from the ditches and the heat of the residual heat from the day coming off of the black top. I was in good riding shape. At 17, I felt invincible on that bike. I did no other training that summer but ride my bike.

Then, at the end of August, I entered a local triathlon. This was before Triathlons, other than the Ironman, had formal lengths. This one started with a mile or so in the water, about 46 miles on the bike, and a 10k at the end. I was a little nervous about the swimming since I'd never been a strong swimmer, and mildly worried about the fun but I knew I could gut it out. So, I showed up at the race and put my bike among the hundreds on the beach of a lake in Faribault, MN. The gun went off and we started swimming. The first thing I noticed is that it is extremely difficult to swim in a straight line across a lake. They don't, for example, paint lines on the bottom and, the water is too murky to see the bottom anyway. I would swim for a while and then look up to find out that I was swimming in the wrong direction. I would correct but again almost immediately be going the wrong direction again. I was soon all alone. It was an out and back around a floating marker, and I was the last person in the water save for an extremely old man competing in a life jacket. A canoe with course officials and a medic began tailing me, asking if I was OK. I coughed up some lakewater and managed to squeak out that I was OK, although I wasn't too sure myself. I kept reaching down with my toe to see if I could feel the bottom. Each time my hopes would rise as I stretched my toe as far as I could, only to be disappointed. I would look at the shore in the distance and consider quitting and grabbing onto the side of the hovering canoe. Finally, I reached the beach and there was my bike, all alone in the middle of the beach. I staggered and coughed out of the water, and began the bike.

Wow! I was on fire. The course was entirely north to south, and there was a slight tailwind. It was the sort of day that you dream about. I was bunny hopping double railroad tracks in a single bound. I was blowing by other riders like they were standing still. Eventually, I hooked up with another rider of similar ability and we began, against the rules, to pull for each other. With my running shoes strapped into the toe clips, and my t-shirt billowing in the wind, and my old school 80's helmet, I could not have been more happy. I reached Todd Park in Austin, MN somewhere near the front of the pack and met my friend who was there. I got off the bike and crumpled to the grass, my legs spent and unable to hold my weight. I'd taken them to complete muscle failure.

After a few minutes, I was able to stand unsteadily, and eventually walk, with my jello like legs on the verge of giving out. I wobbled and hobbled through the 10k start line and eventually managed to make a very slow jog for some periods, but was unable to ever sustain it the entire distance. Now, those that had I had passed on the bike were passing me. I eventually made it to the finish, but somewhere in the bottom third.

I don't know if I'll ever do a triathlon again. I may stick to strictly biking. If I do, I'll practice swimming in open water!

Novice Racing and discovering Strava

A few nice days have come to Portland, and that means no excuses for not racing at the velodrome. I signed up for fast twitch fridays, a novice friendly event put on by Bike Central. It was a timed event night featuring flying 200 meters. This was my opportunity to test my speed and not have to worry about a long mass start event that would surely expose my fitness weaknesses. Although I have a lot of miles on the road this year, and the race is only 200 meters, I was nervous and fearful of failure and the discomfort that an all out 200 meter effort can give. The one thing I've learned after getting back into cycling, is that short extreme efforts like 200 meter sprints are not something that my body has experienced in a long time. As a kid, and athlete in college, my body was accustomed to those intense efforts and had adapted to recover more easily. But now, not having gone that deep into the red in...er...many many years, the shock to my system was enormous. Long climbs in the west hills or on Bald Peak or Chehalem Mountain simply don't draw that deep. Maybe it's because, in that short effort, your mind knows you only have 15 seconds so it will go further and deeper than it will allow you to go when out on the mountain roads. As Friday evening approached, I still considered dropping out. In the end I didn't, and it was a gorgeous evening at Alpenrose. All ages and sexes with shaved legs were present. I warmed up on the ancient, battered club track bike. I had great race wheels provided by the club, and the bike is in perfect mechanical condition. But everyone else seemed...so...like they belonged there. I felt out of place and inexperienced. I knew what they were thinking. Look at that Fred! Me with my hairy legs and ancient bike.


There were super fast looking men and women on expensive bikes with expensive clothing. I watched them warm up on their rollers, casually spinning out 180 rpm bursts. I wished I could ride steadily on rollers!

I also didn't know what I was doing in the sprint. I watched the other riders and got in line to do my own. The first run, the only real one I had in me, was poorly executed. I started sprinting too late, and wasn't in the sprinters lane up to full speed before crossing the start line. I hit full speed before the banking but allowed the bike to kick up out of the sprinters lane. I fought it back down and crossed the line in 14.7 seconds. I rolled around the track and into the warmup circle trying to recover. My legs were now jelly and rigamortis was starting to set in, and my lungs felt burnt around the edges. I felt like packing it in. But I got back in line for another run. It seemed to take forever, but my turn finally came. This time, I decided that I would start the sprint earlier and be at full speed and in the sprinter lane before crossing the start line. However I worried that I wouldn't be able to hold on to the sprint for the full 200 meters. As I came around the bank before the start, I stood up and hit the pedals as hard as I could, dropped into the sprinters lane, and was already hurting and struggling to hold the cadence as I crossed the start. 200 meters to go! My legs felt like they were down to 20% power, and I was breathing in big puffs like a steam engine. I kept the bike in the sprinters lane this time and entered the straight looking at the clock as the tenths clicked by. I was losing power exponentially as I struggled as hard as I could to pedal circles all the way through the finish. I crossed the line and clocked 14.43, good for second place in my age group.. A little faster, unbelievably, than my first effort, though it felt so much worse. 200 meters...doesn't sound very far, but you do really need fitness to perform your best at this event. With the right gearing, and more work on my fitness to sustain that 200 meter effort, I feel I can get that time down.

Now on to my discovery. Have you all seen those adds for strava.com? The social networking site for cyclists? I have, and I thought it was just another site for uploading gps tracks. How different could it be? But it has lots of cool features that iMapMyRide doesn't have. I particularly like how it finds segments of your rides that others have ridden and keeps a leader board. Here is a recent commute from work. Notice that there is a segment of my commute called "Terwillilger Time Trial". This segment was part of Strava, I didn't create it. Now I can compare how my ascent of Terwilliger compares to others. Check it out, I recommend it. I'm currently 14th on the Terwilliger Time Trial. Go ahead, knock me down a bit!

You Never Really Know a Road Until...

You can drive a road a million times, but it isn't until you walk, run, or bike it that you really know the road, or the neighborhood. The world looks different from a bike. So much so, I would say, that it can alter the way you see the whole world. As I write this, I'm watching a Subaru commercial. It shows newly weds driving on a remote gravel road (perfectly passable by any front drive car), encountering a bull, driving around it, and having their picnic rained out. They hop back in the car and drive back from where they came. The message is that they are an unusual couple and even though they were rained out, they have a better memory than if they had done something more traditional. More traditional than driving a car on a road? The point the commercial misses is that the experience of that place would be deeper if they experienced the route more closely. I love getting away to the wilderness, getting away from people and cars and noise. But you don't need to drive a 4x4 into the wilderness to have a new experience. Ride your bike from wherever you live to wherever you work, or downtown to a coffee shop for dessert, and you'll see what I mean. You'll notice the neighborhoods change from one to another, the smells of the cooking or the laundry. You'll hear things you didn't hear from your car, see things you never noticed.

You never really know a road until you've ridden it on a bicycle.

Better weather (a little) means a lot more bikes on the road

Several more days of bike commuting adventures in Beaverton and Portland are in the bank. My commute takes me from far SW Beaverton on the edge of the urban growth boundary to Old Town Portland. These 14 miles take me through several bicycling cultural "zones".

Allow me to explain. You may think that all bicyclists are pretty much the same, at least the ones that are dedicated enough to ride in the cold, the rain, and the dark. You may also think that the cyclists in, say, Multnomah Village are pretty much the same as those in Beaverton or Portland. Not so. Let's start with the Beaverton zone. Cyclists in the beaverton zone fall into three general categories. These are:

1) The Hispanic on a department store bike. The bike never fits properly. The rider doesn't generally ride in a straight line or at a speed much faster than a walk. Rider usually rides on the sidewalk, and always appears to be very close to an intersection. No matter the weather, this rider is dressed in street clothes, like jeans and a winter coat.

2) The 70 something year old enthusiast rider. This rider wears bright yellow rain gear, is a bit scrawny looking, and often has a rather dorky looking helmet. This rider is always on a road bike, but it may be a vintage bike with original looking components.

3) The affluent middle aged white man, wanna be enthusiast. More often than not, this rider does not appear to be in the best of shape, but rides with vigor nonetheless. While affluent, most of this man's money goes into the mortgage, car payments, and kids. He wishes he could spend more on biking but simply can't. He wears sensible cycling clothing from Performance, or sale items from the Bike Gallery.

After slogging up the false flat of Multnomah Blvd. to Multnomah Village, there is a slight shift in the biking zone. Here I encounter two more types:

1) The younger enthusiast rider. This rider is a little younger than the affluent Beaverton enthusiast, or at least is in better shape. He is no older than mid 30's. He is not as affluent in general as the Beaverton enthusiast, but he spends more money on his bike. He has fewer other financial obligations. Here you may encounter the occasional female cyclist as well. Their cycling clothes are a little more stylish. Maybe something from Castelli. The rain gear is Shower's Pass. They don't wave to other cyclists.

2) The commuting geek. You are now close enough to Portland that the occasional commuting geek is found here. The commuting geek has a sensible bike. That's this rider's thing. He is proud of the fact that his bike is practical. He is a little to eager to point out that his bike is NOT an expensive race bike. It has permanent fenders and panniers. He rides upright on this bike, almost ramrod straight like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz when she steals Toto. You will see many more of these in Portland as you get closer, but you begin to see them here.

Once you enter the city center area, more breeds present themselves:

1) The retro "Look at me I am riding a bike that looks like it was made in the UK in the 1920's" female rider. It may also be a 3500 dollar 55 pound dutch bike. Although stylish, these bikes were made in a land where the maximum elevation is a bridge over a canal...and 55 pounds doesn't matter so much. This rider obviously hasn't ridden far, is usually in street clothes with some light rain gear at the most. Though she only began riding in recent months, and then only on suitable days, she effortlessly has adopted a sense of superiority over not just car drivers, but riders who have new or faster looking bikes.

2) The fixie hipster. There is nothing I can say about this guy that has not already been said.

3) The guy who wants to be a hipster with a fixie. This guy has purchased a "city bike" from a mass market maker such as Trek or Specialized which has been made to try to cash in on the "urban" trend. Or worse, it's made by Pista. The bike is a single speed with a flip flop hub and brakes. You will be most likely to find this rider at a Stumptown Coffee with his bike parked, a little too self consciously, out front.

4) Many, many workaday commuters on all manner of mountain bike and hybrid with all manner of dress.

These are the cultural cycling zones on my commute.

Double workout, I'm exhausted

It's confirmed. Those strenuous hours on the exercise bike on the Oasis of the Seas made me stronger. Training with data makes a difference, I'm convinced. Monitoring my wattage was the key, or at least that's my theory. I was much stronger on the commute today, especially on the way home when I didn't leave anything on the table. I was passed coming up Broadway today after pulling away from a light. I could tell that the other rider thought he was superior by the way he passed me. I kept him in my sites and caught him on the early slopes of Terwilliger. I was running 12 to 13 mph on that section of the west hills where I had been running 9 to 10 before the trip. He caught on to my wheel and went straight at Capitol highway and I turned right. On Multnomah, I got another hanger on as I hit 28 mph on the long slow downhill section. He turned off somewhere on Olson road as we crested a rise. Turning onto Hall, I got a flat and was able to make it an Albertsons where I called for a ride. I got almost 2k miles out of that rear tire. Those Continental Ultra Gator Skins are amazing! I knew it was going to go soon, it was just a matter of time. If I'd been farther from home, I had a foldable and a tire pump in my bag.

I couldn't rest though, since tonight is the first night of the Insanity workout with Shaun T. The fit test night. I was pretty toasted from the two 1 hour rides today, but I gutted it out and recorded my numbers. It's very different from cycling so hopefully it will round out my fitness.

A Cruise on the Oasis of the Seas

My lovely wife earned a cruise on the Oasis through Beach Body. So I haven't been on the bike in over a week. But I did have plenty of time on the ship to workout. They have a cool exercise bike called the Expresso that provides a video screen of a route, complete with hills, competitors, and a pacer. It tracks your instantaneous and average watts. I improved by 30 watts over the course of the cruise! I'm anxious to see if I can feel that on the 'real' bike.

Meanwhile, being around all of those super fit beach body people has me motivated to hit the Insanity workout to improve my overall fitness, not just leave it all to the bike, and to clean up my nutrition a bit!

Another great weekend ride and Spring Commute

It sure is nice not have to turn on the lights in the morning and ride during daylight hours. It's the little things ya know? The Monday commute was clear, dry, bright, and crisp. I arrived at work in an incredible mood, ready to take on the day. With a fresh cup of coffee from Floyd's, nothing could stop me! I ended up having to work late to get an RFP response out the door, so I missed the chance to ride in the waning hours of light, and the dry roads as well. By the time I was suited up and ready to ride, it was dark and pouring rain. Oh well, it was still a great ride.

Saturday served up some sunshine and a few hours by myself while the rest of the family went to the mall. That weekend lazy bug can sure be strong. I overcame the urge to waste the afternoon indoors and hopped on the bike. I immediately felt better, and, I should have guessed, the weather immediately changed for the worse. The sky clouded over and it began to rain. But I was committed now and spun out an easy 25 miles in the country side. I took the climbs easy as well, just pushing hard enough to keep up a reasonable forward momentum, making no effort to set a PR or anything like that. Just a nice day on the road.

Am I getting stronger?

Wow. I had an unexpected great ride home tonight. I may be starting to come into form for the spring. I had a tough day at work. I didn't drink enough, and got on the bike dehydrated and thirsty. I felt like I was getting a little winded easily on the climb up Broadway. The first few hundred meters up Terwilliger were shaky, and I was still thirsty. But then almost without noticing it, I was spinning out my first gear and had clicked into second. Hmm..maybe I'm getting stronger! As usual, I was dancing right on the edge of my anaerobic threshold. And then...I saw the blinky light in the distance of another bike. Could it be? Could I be climbing faster than another rider? I know this person isn't racing me. But you know, I still wanted to catch him, and I did. I blew by him, and as I did I noticed he was trim and fit looking, wearing serious gear and riding a serious bike. Wow! Yeah, I know he wasn't racing me. But still! Energized, I unconsciously spun out second gear and shifted to third, and I was still feeling OK. Could it last? Turning onto Capital highway, I recovered briefly with soft pedaling before hitting it hard again. I rode in one or two gears higher the remaining distance to the top of the hill in Multnomah Village.

A crisp winter solo ride

I skipped the group ride with the club yesterday. I feel bad, and guilty about that. Normally, I look forward to the rush of riding at high speed in a pack, and the sprint for the old abandoned feed store. At 42 years old, I have a plodding, middle aged stride when I run. But on the bike, in a paceline, I'm still somewhat powerful and fast gliding along at 25 miles per hour, with the whir of gears and chain, the pavement flying by, concentrating on the wheels around me, reading the movements of the other riders. But yesterday, I just wasn't feeling up for that. Instead, I went for a solo ride.

It was cold for Oregon. 30 degrees. But it was a rare dry day, so there was no ice at on the valley floor. I was planning to climb into the surrounding hills and wondered if there was snow and ice up there. I added a layer of fleece between my jersey and Gore Bike Wear shell in deference to the temperature. The rest of my standard winter riding gear, full length leg warmers, neoprene Seal Skinz socks and shoe covers, and a pair of Pearl Izumi cycling gloves, and a soft cotton balaclava under my helmet.

I had no group to meet by any specific time, so I went over the bike a little more carefully. There was a squeaking in the drivetrain on the last commute home, so I cleaned the derailleur pulley wheels and oiled them again. Checked the tires, aired them up and adjusted the rear brakes.

Suppressing a last minute urge to retreat to the family room for an afternoon in front of the TV, I swung my leg over the bike and rolled down the driveway. I immediately felt the bite of the air on my face as my speed increased. The TV urge returned. I peddled on.

Soft peddling, with no unspoken group competition urging me on, I climbed the first gentle rise. Cresting the hill, I clicked into the big chain ring and, with the assistance of gravity and my still gentle muscle power, accelerated to 25 mph. I tucked in my knees and elbows and leaned forward, nearly resting my chin on the stem. The cold bit in a bit more fiercely, slicing through the seam in the leg warmers like a knife, causing me to question my resolve to ride yet again. I remembered that I left my cell phone on the counter and realized that if I had a blowout, or a broken spoke, I could be stranded for some time. I thought about going back to get the phone, but I peddled on.

Leaving the suburbs behind, I started spinning up the first rural hill. With my muscles loosening up, I tried a higher gear and felt the gentle sting in my legs immediately. I dialed the cadence back just slightly and concentrated on being smooth. My breathing and cadence fell into a 'just above comfortable' rhythm. With the traffic left behind, there was no sound but the wind passing by my ears, the tires rolling over the pavement, my breathing, and the drivetrain. As the grade increased, I began to warm and no longer noticed the temperature. I had entered the happy zone and all doubts about being committed to the ride vanished. As I turned onto the steepest part of the ride up Chehalem Mountain, I geared all the way down and searched again for the steep climb rhtym, which came quickly. I have a bit of a masochistic enjoyment of the slower, push pull climbing cadence just below my anaerobic and muscular threshold. Dancing on that razor thin line is a mental as well as physical challenge; gauging the grade, the distance to the top, my fitness, how I'm feeling that day, and metering the power appropriately all so that I'll have enough in the tank to return home. I chugged along at 7 to 9 mph, past vineyards, alpacas, and Christmas tree farms until I reached the upper reaches of the mountain where the grade mercifully slackens to about 4% and I spun the bike up to 13 mph or so and sat up just a bit, stretching my shoulders. Thankfully, there were only patches of snow, and the roads seemed devoid of any ice.

The road rolls along the top of the mountain for a couple of miles with one final push to the summit where it plunges in a narrow, twisting fashion towards the town of Scholls. The descent starts off straight and steep for about 400 meters on a bare and exposed mountain top, enabling a rapid build up of speed. I tucked into my most aerodynamic position and resisted the urge to squeeze the brakes. The narrow road is steeply crowned, and feels more so on skinny bicycle tires at 40 mph. It sweeps gently to the left, but requires full concentration at this speed. The heat of the climb evaporated in less than a second as I was assaulted by 40 mph windchill. Tears welled up in my eyes from the cold air swirling around my glasses as they swept the road for gravel, sand, black ice, pot holes..anything that might mean disaster. I kept up the speed as long as I could until the tighter twisties on the lower half of the mountain forced me to brake. I carved and tucked, braked and accelerated my way to the bottom of the mountain, profoundly chilled and exhilarated at the same time. As the road turned upward again, my legs, chilled and stiffened by the long cold descent, began working again, warming up before hitting 10 miles of rolling terrain back home. And to think I might have stayed home to watch TV.

New shoe covers

My old performance shoe covers bit the dust. It was my fault really. The zipper latch snapped off in a moment of carelessness while putting them on. Being without a pair of decent shoe covers as a winter rider in Portland is impossible. So I stopped into Bike Central as it is the nearest shop to our new office. I was also interested in checking out the shop as they run Fast Twitch Fridays at Alpenrose Velodrome. So my friend Paula and I walked down to Bike Central on our lunch hour. Nearing the store, I was fearing the worst. I was imagining a 'too cool for you' hipster oriented joint, or a 'you don't look like a serious enough rider for me to waste my time with you' bike snop shop where I would have to endure a lot of condescending attitude in exchange for the privilege of being allowed to spend my money. I was pleasantly surprised. The shop was manned by one guy with a pony tail. I think I recognized him as the guy who flips the laps at Alpenrose on fast twitch fridays and starts the races. The pony tailed man was working away on a bike as we entered. He was friendly, down to earth, and treated me with respect. He was very helpful and we chatted a bit about racing at Alpenrose, and I admired a track frameset that was in the process of being built up while I was there.

I ended up buying a pair of Sugoi Resisters for way too much money (50 bucks). I knew I could find the same product on line, at one of the bigger bike shops, or through my bike club for less money. So why did I buy them there? Well, I needed them, didn't want to have to drive somewhere else or wait for mail order for one thing. But in the end, it was because I simply don't want to live in a world where places like Bike Central don't exist. It was a fair tax to pay.

I've got one ride in on the Sugois and I enjoy them much more than my clunky Performance shoe covers. They are more elegantly designed, simpler, and the zipper is much higher quality. I'm sure they will help provide for many enjoyable commutes and winter training rides in the years to come.

Working downtown again

The office moved downtown from Lake Oswego. This means the bike commute got a whole lot tougher. I also had a surgery on December 3rd that kept me off the bike for nearly 6 weeks. Did my second ride in yesterday and wow....the rain was really coming down on a cool 39 degree morning. Living in Oregon, one gets a bit cavalier about rain. So I left my backpacks rainfly in the pack, and my gore tex rain paints in the pack...and one of my rain booties had a broken zipper (new pair at the bottom of my backpack) so it was flapping open in the back. By the time I finished my commute, my shoes, sealskinz, booties, and tights were soaked through. After getting to the office and opening the backpack, I found that water had forced it's way in, making my jeans soggy in spots. The ride home was much less eventful. Hitting the lights through downtown Portland at all the wrong times, I got off to a slow start. But after crossing Burnside on Broadway, the gentle climb up towards the west hills could begin. I spun easily, warming up my legs and drying out those still soaked tights and shorts. I hit Terwilliger and immediately spun up the tempo and pegged my cardiovascular system and didn't dial it back until I hit Multnomah Village. By that time, my legs were fried and I limped home on impulse power. But what a great day of riding. Can't wait for next week and the fitness gains I'll feel as I come back from surgery.