Ten Thousand

Some things happen because you plan for them, and other things just happen.  On October 17, I hit 10,000 miles on my bike.

I wasn't really focused on the total miles that I'd racked up on the bike, but when I replaced my chain earlier that week and noted the mileage for the maintenance in my log, I noticed that I was just about one ride short of this milestone--a near unbelievable coincidence.  So, I kept an eye on the odometer at the tail end of my Sunday spin with the DogMagnet, and snapped a shot of the odometer at The Moment.  Oddly enough, I hit the mark right in front of one of the schools that I supervise.  I guess the whole thing was just kismet.

My bike's name is Luigi.  I bought him in June 2009, and he is the first road bike I've owned since the Schwinn Continental I had when I was in high school.  He's a red Specialized Allez, and I named him after one of the characters in Cars (even though he's yellow, not red), and also because a red bike just seems to need an Italian name.  Even if Allez is French.  We live in a complicated world, and some things just are the way they are.

An aluminum-framed road bike isn't anything to get too excited about, but Luigi and I have been through a lot together, and my bike is special.

And that kinda sounds like the first couple lines of the Rifleman's Creed, which can be overgeeked into:

This is my bicycle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My bicycle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life....

Where does the time go?

Break out the medal or whatever you get when you reach the pinnacle of Slackerdom:  After a long time thinking I should get off my rear and update the blog, I'm actually going to do it.  

Hard to believe that it's been over six months since my last post.  The backstory is that my job changed enormously in May, with a colleague moving on to a new position and his duties being split among the two of us who remained.  Huge change in responsibilities and load, but the work has been interesting and, after a couple months of drinking from the firehose, enjoyable.  Not an excuse for not posting, since I've been able to keep up with the riding, but a rationalization of sorts that I've come to live with.

But back to our story, in abbreviated form....

Century 7:  LA River Ride

This was my third River Ride, and my second century at this event.  It was a good ride, and offered the same goofy urban scenery that seems to be the norm:  lots of bike path with views of the LA River in all its tatty glory.  Last year the headwind out of Long Beach to the turnaround point just about killed me; this year it was manageable.  I still needed the tacos from the truck at Elysian Park on the way back, but I knocked nearly an hour off my previous time.  WooHoo.

The LA River Ride taco plate.  Good.  And good for you.

Century 8:  Tour of Napa Valley

My fourth ToNV, and my first century ride.  I was more than a bit nervous about this ride due to the challenge it presented.  I'd ridden all the sections of the route previously, including Ink Grade and Mt. Veeder, but I'd never come close to the combination of the two significant climbs and also the distance.  I rolled out in the cool of the early morning and completed Veeder in solid form.  Being greeted by a guy in Highlander kit playing bagpipes at the summit was one of the great visuals of the season.

The downhill and return route to Napa (Dry Creek, I believe) is always a fun experience, and the middle part of the ride involved the pretty, rolling route along Silverado Trail.  Things got a bit toasty during the approach to the lunch stop (but much cooler than the last two years), and soon enough the climb up Ink Grade appeared.  I hooked up with another rider who seemed to have a pace that matched mine, and we leapfrogged our way to the top in a measured way.  I didn't have the legs to produce a strong showing, but I made it to the top, and the rest of the ride was pretty much a simple spin to the end.  This is a great ride, and definitely on my list for 2013, particularly when you factor in the fantastic wine tasting and food options that the area presents.

Century 9:  Amtrak Century

After last year's Amtrak, I was pretty certain that I wouldn't try the ride again any time soon.  There was a consistent headwind that made the entire ride a grind, and I was unimpressed by the scenery along the route.  As the date for registration came up, though, I came to giving the ride another shot, and I'm glad I did.  Good weather, a slight tailwind, and "well, let's see" attitude combined for a very good ride.  Even the section of the ride that routed past the hordes of RVs was better this year.  For the most part, the challenge of this ride is the Torrey Pines climb late in the ride, and although it was longer and more arduous that I remembered, it wasn't a demoralizing ascent.  Strongly considering this one for 2013.

Century 10:  Tour de Fresno

This is a local ride, and I did the metric route a couple years ago.  Not a memorable ride, for the terrain is pretty much flat, with a climb or two folded in for some challenge, and the scenery is largely farmland and small towns.  It would have been a reasonably good ride except for 1) the course wasn't marked beyond the 50th mile or so, and 2) the event organizers didn't distribute route sheets at the start.  As I understand it, they expected that riders would print their own or that they'd use cell phones for navigation.  Bad, bad, bad decision.  I don't ever remember being so frustrated and angry on a ride.  Stopping to pull out the phone to try to figure out the route was absolutely awful.  Thankfully, the best part of the day materialized as the worst part of the day began:  I connected with a small group of riders who had a map and a great attitude and I was able to tag along with them to the end. 

I keep hoping that a local ride out of Fresno will turn into a fun and well-managed event, and I keep getting disappointed.  At this event, the organizers put the riders at risk through negligence.  Not cool.

Century 11:  Lighthouse Century

With my tenth century completed at the Tour de Fresno frustration-fest, the pressure of meeting my goal came to an end, but I still had a couple favorite rides that I wanted to take on. I approached this year's Lighthouse with more than a little fear.  Three years ago, this was my first century for a reason:  it was a relatively easy century because the climbing was very manageable, and the event has a reputation for being very, very well managed.  This year, the routes were changed at the request of the local government and the CHP, and the two century routes included some significantly more challenging climbing.  I rode the longer but less steep 109 mile route that included the lengthy climb up Highway 46 almost to Paso Robles.  The DogMagnet rode the shorter but steeper route up Old Creek Road.  Each of us had a good day on wheels through the climbing, and the route up the coast was great, as always.  The unexpected and significant challenge of the day was the will-breaking headwind for the ten or so miles before the turnaround at the northern end of the route.  I was at the point of cutting the route short and just turning back when I recognized the turnaround in the distance and managed to gut out the ride.  With the headwind a tailwind, the return to Morro Bay was simple and fast. 

The summit on Highway 46.

This is an outstanding ride, and is definitely on the list for next year.  I'm planning to give the Old Creek Road route a shot.  It mirrors a local climb that I've recently mastered, and I think I can make a good showing.

Century 12:  Foxy's Fall Century

My final century for the year was Foxy's.  This was my third Foxy's, and the route is now relatively familiar.  Previously, I was focused on the approach to and climb up Cardiac Hill.  This year, I discovered the beauty of the middle part of the ride, with the rolling climbs up to and beyond the point where the metric route splits off the century ride.  Wonderful, wonderful riding.  This year's ride was also marked by much cooler temperatures, and the climb immediately following the lunch stop (a cruel thing even as a concept) was significantly easier, and the climb up Cardiac was more manageable than before.  I still had to stop once before the top, but it wasn't the same kind of trying-to-manage-the-burning-legs experience it was the previous two times.  This ride has a section of flat terrain during the final twenty miles or so that really gets into my head in a big way, and this year was no exception.  There's something about grinding out a long stretch of easy riding at the end of a century that is just hard for me, mentally.

________________________________

So the season is done.  I did ride the Solvang Prelude just for the heck of it (and to ride Ballard Canyon Road, one of my most favorite routes), but that was just the coda for the year.  I had some successes, and I had some failures.  In the time since Foxy's, I've been thinking about what this all means.  I've still not fully cogitated it, and may never do so, but it feels good to have achieved a goal that was, for me, downright lofty:  one thousand miles, in hundred mile chunks, on a bicycle.  Folks I know tell me that they are amazed that someone can do that.  I know that the achievement is the result of a simple desire to see if I could do it, coupled with the willingness to tough it out and the knowledge that I could meet the challenge of long miles and notable climbs if I persisted.   And I think that that's the description that fits this whole piece best:  I am a persistent rider.  I'm not fast.  I consistently start a century early, and finish late.  I don't climb fast, but I get to the top of a hill.  Everybody passes me on the flats.  But I finish. I did it twelve times.  And that's pretty cool.

My trusty companion Luigi at the bottom of the Mt. Veeder descent, 2012 Tour of Napa Valley.

Century 6: Ojai Valley Century

A couple weeks ago, I received an email advertising the Ojai Valley Century.  The ride promised great views, good weather, and manageable climbing.  It sounded like an great combination (particularly with temperatures at home approaching 100 degrees), so this past weekend the Mrs. and I packed up our scooters and headed south.

We rolled out at 7:00 into a mist, overcast morning.  The climbing started early, with the route taking us up to Lake Casitas.  The cool weather made the climbing fun; the climb was challenging but never difficult.  The route then took us into Carpinteria, west into Montecito, down Highway 1 to Ventura, up to Santa Paula, and then a final climb back up to Ojai.  The last climb was challenging because of the heat (well, okay--maybe it wasn't that hot, but it did get up to 83 degrees) and because it came at mile 87.  The climbing was supposed to be in the 3500' range, but turned out to be 5050'.  I was able to complete the 101 miles with a 13.3 mph average, which was pretty good for the climbing involved. 

This was a great ride, and it will be on my calendar for next year.  Good route, great scenery, and solid support, including a very nice lunch stop) made for a good day in the saddle.

Mrs. SockMonkey rode the 30 mile route.  It was an out-and-back from Ojai down to Ventura and back.  A great idea in theory, except that it placed all the climbing on the inbound route, and she faced a considerable challenge in making the 16-mile, 1100' climb back to Ojai.  But complete it she did, and we celebrated this achievement by having dinner at Cafe Firenze in Moorpark.  We chose the restaurant because it had received great reviews--but when we arrived, Mrs. SockMonkey was very excited to discover that it was the restaurant of Fabio Viviani, a Food TV chef that the Mrs. recognized instantly.  +1 for the weekend!

Up next:  LA River Ride.

Century 5 and Century 5.89

On May 5^th, I rode the Wine Country Century.  Two years ago, I rode the metric, and last year I forgot to register when the window opened and missed the event entirely.  I’ve ridden in the Sonoma area quite a bit over the past few years, and it’s one of my favorite places to ride.  In fact, back when the Mrs. and I first started riding, one of the first lengthy rides that we went on was a route that we found on the Santa Rosa Cycling Club website.  That ride, the Dry Creek/Alexander Valley 32-mile was one of our greatest days on wheels, and the route remains one of our all-time favorites.  There’s something about the combination of the intimate roads and the views of the vineyards that make these Sonoma valley roads special.  We try to ride that route at least once a year. 

But back to the ride at hand.  Each of the centuries that I’ve taken part in have a different quality.  The Chico Wildflower is all about the three climbs—Humboldt, Honey Run, and Table Mountain.  The Tour de Palm Springs is about expansive desert terrain.  The Solvang Century is about the gentle but insistent climb up Foxen Canyon Road.  The Wine Country Century is about rolling roads punctuated by short but steep climbs, all wrapped around some of the prettiest terrain imaginable.  Last year, the Chico Wildflower was my favorite event.  This year, the WCC would be my choice—far and away the best ride of the year so far.

The weather forecast for the weekend threatened heat, but on the day of the event, the temperatures remained reasonable.  Except for the short climb up Chalk Hill Road, heat wasn’t really a factor all day.  I rolled out at 7:05, and the miles passed by quickly.  A pre-ride email from the organizers noted that the roads had taken a beating the previous winter, and that we could expect some rough conditions, but except for a few spots, things were very manageable.  The first rest stop came quickly, and I bumped into Samantha there and we exchanged brief greetings.  The rest stop had breakfast burritos!  It was a bit cool for the first few miles, so a warm tortilla was a welcome treat. 

I mentioned that my sense for the ride was that it was punctuated by some short, steep climbs, and one of those occurred shortly after the first rest stop—I think it was on River Road, and it was a short 17% climb at the end of an already challenging short climb.  I’m a spinner, not a masher, and when a climb exceeds 10% I struggle pretty badly.  I really had to grind to get to the top, and it taxed my reserves to make it.  This stretch had a couple of these brief challenges, and I felt their residual impact throughout the day. 

After the second rest stop at Wohler Bridge, the route became very familiar, with the course passing through Dry Creek Valley, through the much-appreciated lunch stop at Lake Sonoma, down Alexander Valley, and back to Santa Rosa.  The climb on Chalk Ridge Hill Road was a bit of a pisser.  I’d stopped on the climb when I rode the metric two years ago, and discovered that I was only about 100 yards from the top.  This year, I swore that I wouldn’t do that again—and ended up stopping in exactly the same spot because I’d forgotten all about last year's resolution.  The climb was very manageable, except that it was about ten miles from the end of the ride.

Again, this was a great ride, and certainly at the top of my list for must-do for next year:  great route, beautiful scenery, and well supported.  Mrs. SockMonkey did the 35 mile route.  Typically, a 30-mile route is pretty flat and manageable, but the WCC 35 is more challenging, with some of those same short, steep sections from the other routes.  The Mrs. met those challenges, and had a great day on wheels, as well, earning us both a dinner at John Ash & Co. in Santa Rosa that night. 

100.4 miles

7:43 ride time

9:15 total time

13.0 mph average

4484’ of climbing

Century 5.89

On May 12, I rode the Clovis Centennial Century.  Or, I should say, I attempted to ride that century, for on that Saturday, I met The Man with the Hammer.  I’ve never climbed more than 5,000 or so feet on a single ride, so the Clovis Centennial represented a signal chance to break through 6,000’.  The fact that the ride was just an hour away and that it followed briefly the route of the AMGEN Tour of California (the easy, fast downhill part) was even greater attraction, so the DogMagnet and I decided to give it a go.  The early part of the route was a familiar route up Auberry Road through Prather.  This is a great route that offers a wide and smooth shoulder to ride on.  It’s one of my favorite routes out of Fresno.  The road from Prather to Auberry was narrow and traffic whips past through pretty fast, so it’s a bit intimidating—but not nearly as intimidating as the challenge that followed:  Powerhouse Road.  The profile found on the event website pretty much describes the challenge:

 

See that V-shaped dent in the profile?  That’s Powerhouse Road:  a wonderful zippy, curvy downhill, followed by the most demoralizing climb I’ve ever attempted.  The climb was manageable initially, but the extended stretches of 10% or greater grade and the heat made the climb increasingly difficult.  At the third mile of the four-mile climb, I crapped out.  After series of increasingly weak start-and-stop sequences, I just couldn’t get my legs to go any further.  Overheated, tired, and cramping up; I wanted to go, but just couldn’t.  I had met The Man with the Hammer.  A SAG motorcycle rider stopped and asked how I was doing, and I told him to get a SAG car out to pick up my sorry ass because I was done.  Oddly enough, once he rode off, I was able to get back on the bike and get a few yards up the road.  And a few yards turned into a few hundred yards.  And then a quarter mile.  And then a half mile.  And then the road flattened out and I made it to the top without having to SAG.  I was able to cover the last mile in one shot; it turned out to be a very manageable piece of climbing, and it was a great feeling to finish that stupid climb, even if it took forever to do it.   

The Man with the Hammer

I was pretty much done, though, and at the rest stop at the top of the hill I was told 1) that I was the last rider on the route, and 2) that there was a bailout route that would knock off the last piece of climbing up to Bass Lake and get me back to an easier part of the course so I could finish.  (The Fresno Cycling Club guys who provided support for the ride did an outstanding job.  They were incredibly encouraging, provided quality rest stops, and took good care of their riders.  This was a one-off event, but if they hold it again next year, I'd give it another shot and recommend it to others looking for a challenge.)  After cogitating the options, I decided to take the bailout.  There was no way I was going to be able to complete the full century route, so I didn’t beat myself up too badly, and actually enjoyed the route along Friant Road and back to Clovis.  This was the part of the route that followed the AMGEN tour course, and it was a bit cool to see those guys riding on some very familiar roads a bit later in the week.  The DogMagnet made nearly all the way to the final rest stop, but needed a SAG ride for 5 miles to get there. From that point, he completed the ride.  In the end, the heat was the biggest factor for us both.  It was one of the first weekends where temperatures reached the 90’s, and the temperature on the road exceeded 102 degrees.  Had I ridden this route a month earlier, I might have been able to complete it.  But that wasn’t the case on this date.  So I took my 89 miles and logged it as a personal growth experience.  I met The Man with the Hammer that day, and he owned me.  

Next up:  The Ojai Valley Century

Century 3a: Fail; Century 3b Epic; Century 4: A hot time on Table Mountain

Three starts, two completions.  Is it any wonder that I've not rushed to keep the blog updated?

3a.  The Central Valley Vietnam Veteran's ride.  
This was supposed to be an easy century.  The ride started just a few miles from home, the route wasn't challenging, and the possible rain and wind was to be the only real challenge.  The first few miles went well, and then my stomach decided to rebel and I dropped like a one egg pudding (to quote my major professor).  By mile 50 I had the chills, and at mile 61 I was done.  Mrs. SockMonkey picked my sorry ass up and sagged me back to my car.  The DogMagnet completed the whole ride, overcoming a torrential downpour and an increasingly stiff headwind on the way back to Tulare.  Fail.

3b  Woody Y Century
On April 14, I took on the Woody Y Century in Bakersfield.   Bakersfield can be a pretty grim place to ride, but I took a shot at this ride because it seemed to have a relatively easy century--a good way to get back in the saddle after the failed ride.

It rained throughout the week, and although the forecast for the day of the ride was good, the day turned out to be consistently intermittently wet.  The ride opened with an extended run through an oilfield with all the esthetic appeal that that implies, but then the route took us through a very pretty piece of rolling terrain along Woody Road that really made the ride worthwhile.  The rest of the ride wound through some typical south Valley agricultural land, past the famous Famoso dragstrip, and then back to Bakersfield.  Not a memorable ride, but a way to get back on track.  The rain and a constant, moderate head/crosswind made the day a challenge beyond that presented by the very manageable route.  The rain varied considerably, ranging from cold, sharp rain, to light spotty rain, to fat rain--right out of Forrest Gump.  The rain, combined with the rough chip seal roads thoroughly shredded my rear tire.  It was nearing the end of its service life at 2,000 miles anyway, but the conditions separated the tread from the carcass for nearly a quarter of the diameter of the tire by the end of the ride.  In the end, the day wasn't as epic as my monsoon ride at the 2010 San Diego Gran Fondo Colnago, but it was a rewarding ride and epic in its own way.  This wasn't a big ride (probably a hundred or so riders), and I'm pretty sure that I finished last.  But I'll take it.

The SockMonkey at the end of the ride.

4  Chico Wildflower
On April 29, rode the Chico Wildflower for the second time.  Last year's ride was my all-time favorite century:  A couple iconic climbs, a personal record for climbing, great support, and the satisfaction of completing a challenging century.  I was really looking forward to this year's event, and it didn't disappoint.  The support wasn't quite as good (not as much variety at the rest stops), and it looked like there were fewer riders than last year, but the ride was as challenging and rewarding as I had hoped.  The initial climb was a crappy as I remembered.  Think of a road with bad acne and you'll not be far from the mark.  The second climb, up Honey Run Road, was pretty and challenging--a great piece of riding.  The third climb, up Cherokee Road to the top of Table Mountain, though, remained a major struggle.  It was hot (84 degrees per my phone, but 95 on my bike computer), and the third mile of the four-mile climb was a real struggle.  I had to stop in the same three spots I stopped last year, and the short pieces of 10+% grade really caught me up short.  I did have quite a bit of company at each stop, but that didn't lessen the disappointment at not making the climb in a more powerful manner.

Cherokee Road, about a mile from the top of Table Mountain.  What you can't see is my lungs hanging out of my chest as I try to catch my breath.

The moonscape at the top of Table Mountain. 

I'm finding that the greatest challenge in completing a century is the mental hurdle that happens at about mile 80. That will be the subject of a later post, but the Wildflower is, for me, a classic example of how flat, easy riding can be an agonizing experience.  The final thirty miles or more of the route are an absolutely flat ride through some orchards and fields--the route of the aptly named Flatflower 30 mile ride.  No challenge at all--except that, at 75 miles into the ride, all I wanted to do was get to the end.  Tired.  Hot.  Knees sore from the climbing.  Miles that seemed to creep by at an unbelievably bovine pace.  But all things pass, and I made it back to the car and logged another completed century.

Mrs SockMonkey took on the Flatflower and scored a strong ride.  It'd been a while since she had been on her bike, and she, too, completed a successful ride.

So century number four is in the books.  The Wildflower is a great ride, and highly recommended.  I'm still struggling to find my rhythm this year, though.  Palm Springs felt good, Solvang was a good outing, but even though I'm riding as much as I ever have and taking on more challenging climbs, I'm not having century experiences that are as strong as I'd like to be.  But I'm working on it, and am very optimistic about my next ride.  Next up:  The Wine Country Century.

Yes, I am a slacker

Well.  My work on this blog has been as inconsistent as my riding season this year.  I haven't done a very good job in keeping this thing up to date, so I'm going to be jamming  to catch up.
  

Jabba the Hutt:  The image of the archetypal slacker

 

Two

Some rides really get into my head.  Foxy's Fall Century is one of those, largely because I broke down mentally at the midpoint the first time I rode it and struggled mightily to finish.  The Solvang Century is another.  I've ridden the Solvang metric twice, once intentionally, and then last year after I decided to abandon my attempt at the century because my knees were killing me, the wind had me demoralized and I opted for the shorter course.  But, more than that, everything I'd read about the Solvang century route speaks to all the tough climbing during the last 20 miles of the ride, and also the 5000' of climbing.  These challenges represent a daunting proposition for a rider who struggles to complete a century to begin with, and who is not a particularly strong climber.  I get there, but it's not flashy.  But I guess it's for situations like this that they have SAG on organized rides.....

The morning in Solvang was cold and moist.  I rolled out at 7:40 along with a steady stream of other riders.  The first fifty miles of the ride went well.  I felt strong, and the climb up to Vandenberg AFB--a long and steady but moderate climb--was much easier than last year.  Exiting Orcutt, however, the wind kicked in a bit and really sapped my energy badly.  I was under the impression that there was a lunch stop on the route, and I expected to tank up on a sandwich or something similar.  I was wrong.  The rest stops had the usual orange/banana/peanut butter and jelly/and so forth, but I really needed something beyond that to bring up the energy level.  So I ate what I could stomach and ground out the middle miles of the ride.  I had a flat at mile 54, and I had trouble re-seating the tire on the rim.  The time spent out of the saddle working on the repair led to a set of moderately problematic leg cramps that recurred throughout the day.  The ride was kicking my butt.

I gimped along pathetically, and crawled into the rest stop in Sisquoc at mile 70.  Aided by a couple chunks of bagel and a Gu gel, I caught a second wind of sorts.  Looming ahead was Foxen Canyon Road.  I'd ridden parts of this road before, and knew that it would eventually lead to The Wall, which is the fearsome climb on the route.  Foxen Canyon turned out to be a 15 mile or so of gentle but consistent and slightly rolling climbing accentuated by two very short, somewhat challenging climbs.  I started feeling a bit stronger as I rolled along, and I gained some inspiration in being able to keep pace with a couple clumps of riders.  Reflecting on how slow we were going, just gimping out the miles, I'm guessing we looked like a pack of zombies on bikes. Slowly, I began to feel that I would finish the ride--and not just finish, but finish in relatively good form.  Getting to the top of The Wall at mile 85 was an inspiration, for it turned out to be an easy achievement, and the short climb up Ballard Canyon Road, one of my very favorite few miles of road anywhere really capped off the ride. So ended my tenth career century ride.

So the Solvang Century is another challenge met.  I set a new personal best for climbing at 5005', but the climbing was different than most other rides in that the vast majority of work was accumulated over lengthy but mild climbs--in contrast to a ride such as the Chico Wildflower, which has three very distinct and challenging climbs.  I was so freaked out by this ride that I never stopped to take any photos, so all I've got is the shot of the monkey strapped onto the seat bag in 34 degree weather at the start.

One other item of note:  the DogMagnet completed his first century a mere four months after starting cycling, and he did it over an hour faster than I did.  I hate him even more.

The Numbers:
99.9 miles
7:42 ride time
9:25 total time
13.0 mph average
5005' climbing

Next up:  The Central Valley Vietnam Veterans Spring Century in Tulare.