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.

One down: Tour de Palm Springs 2012

The century season is underway!  On February 11th, I managed to complete the Tour de Palm Springs.  This was my third time at the event (first ride was the metric, and last year I completed the century), and although a familiar ride, it contained its share of drama this year.  I really enjoy this ride, even though it's a long way from home, at a four and a half our drive:  it's a full century, the climbing is tame, the route is scenic (I really enjoy the desert scenery without the summer heat), and there are a lot of riders.  All in all, a great way to kick off the riding season.

Morning came quick after the long drive to Palm Springs on Friday night.  We got to the start area about 7:00, and Mrs. SockMonkey (who rode the 25 mile route) picked up our registration materials while I prepped the bikes. 

One SockMonkey, strapped in and ready to roll.

I rolled out at 7:30.  Last year, the start dumped riders out onto the road in waves of 100 or so, and was a real mess.  Clumps of riders at different speeds made for a messy first ten miles.  This time, the organizers set up a start area on a less busy street, with faster riders starting earlier and slower riders later.  I shot for the middle group, not because I'm middle-fast, but because being slow means taking all day for the ride.  I'm not sure if there were fewer riders (I  believe that that was the case, or if the organizers' strategy was a success,  but the result for me was a very smooth roll-out.  And then, almost immediately, the crosswind hit.  In a very big way.  There was a pretty steady wind all day that I would guess was  between 5 and 15 mph, and when I started, there were gusts of what I would guess were up to 25 mph or so (I'm not an expert, but flags were standing straight out and made a sharp snapping noise as they withstood the wind).

Note to self:  Where one finds windmills, one must expect wind.

Riding in this crosswind, at 90 degrees to my direction of travel, was the scariest thing I've ever done on a road bike:  Leaning into the wind, having the wind rise and fall suddenly as cars passed by upwind, getting pelted with sand, riding past an open trench downwind, and negotiating a narrow path between traffic and the curb was flat-out frightening for the first five miles or so.  Then we turned directly into the wind and crept forward at 5 mph for another five miles that seemed to take forever.  I saw more than a few riders bailing on the course, and it struck me that I was going to have to label this post "Tour de Palm Springs 2012:  FAIL."  But I stuck it out and once the route exited the valley and got into the foothills, things became more manageable. 


One of the byproducts of the wind was a very fast transit down Dillon Road.  Really fast.  Like 30+ mph fast with minimal effort.  Very cool, and hard earned during the first miles of the ride. 

The view along Dillon Road.  Wind to the rear, and making good time as the scenery whizzes by...

The rest of the ride was pretty much uneventful.  The rest stops were vastly improved over last year, with much attention to organization and lots of friendly help.  (I remember a kid throwing bottles of water off a truck to hundreds of riders at the enormously crowded and badly managed first stop last year--kinda like feeding time at the koi pond.)  I didn't need the second stop so I skipped it, and made it to the third stop quickly enough to get a turkey sandwich this year (last year I got two pieces of bread and a piece of cheese), which set me up for a strong second half of the ride.  Kudos to the organizers for really having things sorted out this year.

First rest stop.  Each of the stops included loads of helpful volunteers and live music.

Small things make all the difference:  The turkey and cheese sandwich at mile 50.

I tagged along with a group of about a dozen riders, and we worked out the final twenty or so miles in good form.  Despite the heavy wind at the outset of the ride, and the continual wind throughout the day, I managed to shave nearly an hour off my time from last year.  Mrs. SockMonkey set a personal best as well, completing the 25 mile ride at a 12 mph clip.

So my century season has started, and in good form. I'm looking forward to the Reedley Blossom ride in a few weeks, and then the Solvang Century the following week, where I'll take on the full century for the first time. 

Total time:  8.5 hours from start to finish
Ride time:  7:31
Miles:  102.9
Average:  13.6 mph
Climbing:  3472'

Interlude

I just noticed that it's been over two months since my last post.  With the blog, as with the bike, it's important to train up for a new season, so, with the new organized ride season just about to kick off, here's an update.


Riding during the winter presents a new set of challenges. Winters in Central California are mild, with the greatest challenges being fog (and valley fog can be pretty thick) and the occasional bit of rain.  Dressing for winter rides has been a learning process in general.  Last year, I struggled with keeping warm on the bike, and found that a pair of light long-fingered gloves, a cycling cap, and a jacket with a high collar was the ticket.  This year, the very warm winter this year has led to the need for a different approach, since rides that would start out at 40 degrees in the morning would end up at 65 by early afternoon.  After much consideration, I finally tried the arm warmer and vest strategy.  To my surprise, it's been highly successful, and I'll be interested to see if it holds up in colder weather (for this area, that means between 30 and 40 degrees).  The gear of choice for me is a set of Garneau Wind Arm Warmers and Vent 2 vest.  I really like Garneau gear; it seems to fit my hard-earned reverse taper (tm) body shape pretty well. 

With the warm winter season, there's been little reason not to ride, so I've logged some pretty good miles in the routes around town and into the foothills.  A lot of these areas look like this:

Classic San Joaquin Valley rural foothill road scenery. 

The photos were taken on Yokohl Valley Road, headed toward Springville.  What is apparent in both photos if you look is the craters of the moon road surface that tests both rear end and also wrists.  Gotta love those farm/ranch roads.


One of the locals  took the time to paint a bit of inspiration on a local climb:

Something kinda cool to look at while pedaling uphill at 5 mph. 

And I also discovered a challenging climb up Highway 245 from Elderwood to Badger that offers a mid-route stop at Mountain House Saloon.  Perfect location for a gargantuan chili size....

The rider in the photo is a former student of mine who has just taken up riding, and we've covered quite a few miles together since Thanksgiving.  It took me three years to conquer routes that he's completing in a month.  I hate him.  Two weeks ago, we took on an 82-mile ride that included the excitement of five separate dog chases, involving close to a dozen dogs.  Most were short spurts with mini-dogs in pursuit, but the last one was a serious bit wherein two dogs used a particularly cunning strategy:  one dog crossed the road a couple times to get our attention, and then sat on the side of the road demurely while we pedaled by--then his partner barreled out of the bushes just as we crossed his path and gave serious and frenzied chase (head down and snarling) for a couple hundred feet.  In three years of riding, I'd been chased by four dogs, and only once in a serious way.  In the past two months since I've been riding with this guy, we've been chased on most of our rides.  It follows naturally, then, that his team name is Dog Magnet.

On December 31, I rode the metric route for Ride for Life in Santa Clarita.  One of the perks for the ride was being able to ride with George Hincapie.  I did see him from a distance, and I can say that we rode parts of the same route, but it would be pressing truthfulness to say that we "rode together."  The route was challenging but enjoyable, with over 4000' of climbing and strong head and crosswinds.  The rest stops, however, were the weakest I've ever seen, with do-it-yourself peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, packets of Gu, and water and only one portajohn per stop.  Weakweakweak.  Also of note:  All of the riders received timing chips, and, as a result, I now have scientific proof that I am Slow. 

So: the Tour de Palm Springs is two weeks away.  I'm pretty stoked about getting in my first century of the year.  I've ridden this twice, one time each for the metric and the century.  The terrain is beautiful in a high desert way (the wife thinks it's kinda ugly), there will be a huge number of riders (good and bad, but always entertaining), and the route is pretty gentle and ideal for an early season century.

And I've got to remember to register for the Wine Country Century this week.  Missed it last year because I forgot to mark my calendar, and that can't happen this year!  I rode the metric two years ago, and it covered some of the prettiest riding that I've ever seen.  The Santa Rosa Cycling Club's Ten Great Rides page is one of the things that got me into riding, and the rides pack in a lot of value.  If you live near Sonoma County and haven't given some of these roads a shot, these rides warrant five monkeys and are highly recommended!  The routes are spectacular, and the route descriptions are brilliant.  The wife and I have done the Dry Creek, Alexander Valley ride multiple times, which goes right by the official SockMonkey winery at mile 26, Ridge'sLytton Springs Vineyard, a destination worthy of a visit in its own right.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

I forgot to add that while I working my way through Foxy's, Mrs. SockMonkey was on an adventure of her own:  on Saturday, the Mrs. rode the Valley Girls Ride in Clovis.  There were a number of routes available, and she and her Girl Friday, Tiffany, completed the 22-mile route.  TIffany attempted the 40-mile ride at the Hungry Buzzard in May, but she's still a relatively new rider, and the Mrs. wanted to help her take on an a local ride that would provide some experience.  The ride turned into a toasty and humid Central Valley autumn day.    Here's a photo of the two at the end of the ride:

Mrs. SockMonkey and her wingperson Tiffanyat the end of the Valley Girls Ride

Mrs. SockMonkey and I are signed up for the Solvang Prelude on November 5.  She's riding the 35 mile route, and I'm up for the metric.

And while we were riding on Saturday, our house experienced a gator infestation:

The cats like to chase lizards, bring them into the house, and then abandon them when they get bored with them.  So we found these two guys sunning themselves on the chair in the bedroom.

What I learned this year



Six Centuries, The Monkey, The Argyle Jersey, and
The Wine We Drink When We Meet The Goal.

I have a friend who will ask, typically after the second beer, "What did we learn today?"  With my goal of five centuries met and exceeded by one last month, it seems an appropriate time for a bit of reflection on what it was all about and what I learned from the experience of riding this year.

First, I learned that I could do it.  When I started riding two years ago, a hundred mile ride seemed far beyond my reach.  Now I know that I can ride a that distance, and the only limiting factor is the amount of climbing.  A century with 4,000’ of climbing is within my range, and I’m thinking that 5,000’ may be doable within a year.  That would bring many centuries (excepting the He-Man/Deathride types) possibilities for me.  That’s pretty cool.

Second, I figured out that eating during a ride is a big damn deal.  I knew that intellectually, but I didn't really know it until the century became the goal.  Having a sandwich (and I don't mean peanut butter and jelly) near the midpoint of a ride is a huge boost.  Add a Diet Coke to that and I'm invincible for at least a few miles.  A good lunch stop is one of the big things that separates an okay ride from a great ride on my list.  It's no coincidence that the Chico Wildflower and the SLOBC Lighthouse are at the top of my list of favorite century rides--they have outstanding lunch stops.  But even small things help a ton.  A bag of Fritos provided a major boost the Spooktacular. 

Third, I learned that the mental aspect of the ride is probably more critical than the physical aspect.  It's certainly a more fickle factor.  My sense is that, if one can ride 60-70 miles with a certain level of climbing, going 100 isn’t hugely different.  But factor in things that can really demoralize, such as wind and heat, not eating or drinking right, or a particularly tough climb, and the game changes enormously.  Knowing (or, perhaps more appropriately, believing) that completing a ride is possible makes completing it physically that much easier.  Doubt increases the challenge immeasurably.

Fourth, I learned that even though I’m a slow rider, the folks that passs me during the first 25 miles are often the same ones that are on the road with me when I finish.  I don’t mean the guys flying down the road in pacelines, or the pairs zipping down the road, or the single riders who clearly know what they’re doing and how to do it fast.  I do mean the folks who are probably recreational weekend riders like I am but who are definitely faster on level ground that I am.  My take on this is that I don’t spend a whole lot of time at the rest stops while others probably tend to socialize and take longer at the stops and take time occasionally to regroup on the side of the road, and it kinda works out evenly at the end.  So, I get passed by the same folks who are going 3-4 mph faster than I am four, five times during the ride.  And we end up at the finish pretty much at the same time.  I know I’m slow, and I know that I’m going to be one of the guys who starts when the course opens and finishes pretty close to when the course closes. I’m good with that, because I know that I’m going to finish (barring mechanical failures or injury), and I know that I’m going to enjoy the challenge that the ride presents rather than a challenge from others.  And I know that, although I'm among the slowest riders on any given course, I’m not the slowest person out there.

It's been a challenging year in a number of ways.  I did complete the five centuries, plus one more for good measure.  I also rode six metrics.  I did have my first DNF at the Giro Bello, where I broke my hand and broke a leg brace.  In separate crashes on my mountain bike, I sprained my wrist and broke another leg brace.  (The mountain bike still scares me silly sometimes.)  This was also my first year in a new and strange job (I was a high school principal, and now I'm an area superintendent for a school district).  But it's been a good riding season, and I'm looking forward to the "off season" rides locally in the cold and wet weather that comes with fall and winter. 

Next year's goal will be to complete at least six centuries, and I'm thinking that at least one of those should present a significant challenge for climbing, (which means, for me, 4000'+ of climbing).  In addition, I'm going to do at least one challenging metric (Levi's King Ridge GranFondo comes to mind).  I do have the thought of ten centuries buzzing around in the back of my head, but we'll have to see what the schedule looks like and how ambitious I am when I take on the first ride of 2012, which should be the Tour de Palm Springs in February.

Allez! Allez! Allez!

The end of the century season: Foxy's Fall Century

On Saturday, October 15, I took on Foxy’s Fall Century, organized by the Davis Bike Club.  This represents my sixth century of the year, and the last century of my riding season this year. 

This is my second Foxy’s.  For some reason, this ride really gets into my head.  Last year, I was concerned about the climbing.  The event website claimed that Foxy’s was a good first century, and that it had “about 2,000 feet” of climbing.  Every other website I checked showed that it was more like 3,000 feet of climbing, which, for me, represented a lot of uphill work.  So last year I was nervous from the outset of the ride.  On the outbound leg, heading toward Fairfield, the wind was terrible and the rolling terrain had worn me down to the point that, by the time I reached the lunch stop, I was completely demoralized.  Wore out.  Hors de combat.  Donedonedone.  Ready to abandon a ride for the only time in my short riding career.  But I felt better after lunch, swore to myself that I wouldn’t wimp out, and managed to limp my way to the finish. 

Fully armed with experience from last year’s ride, this year’s Foxy started out well.  Check-in was quick, the weather was cool and calm, and I rolled out of the starting area at 7:15—just light enough to see with my sunglasses on.  The early miles went quickly, and a light, general tailwind pushed my average speed up into the 17-18 mph range—fast for me.  The first two stops came and went, and then the turnoff for the metric riders appeared and I confidently turned left and headed out on the century route.  The rolling hills that paralleled I-80 were free from wind, and the route turned north toward the lunch stop.  Because I wasn’t struggling to stay alive like I was last year, this year I was able to notice that the route along Wooden Valley Road was really pretty—lots of orchards and vineyards.  The rolling hills did start to wear me down a bit, though, and by the time I got to the lunch stop I was ready for a break. 



Bikes get tired too:  the first rest stop.



One of the things that I remembered from last year was the steep stretch right after the lunch stop.  And it was still there.  The climbing isn’t particularly long or steep, but it is just enough of each to present a challenge after tanking up on food and water.  The road is narrow, with just a sliver of a shoulder, and I made the decision to stop and rest once on the way up so I wouldn’t wobble into traffic.  I kicked myself about five minutes after restarting when I discovered I was about a hundred yards from the summit when I stopped—I could have made the climb all in one shot.

The view from the base of Cardiac Hill.

The route then wound its way through the hills leading up to the dam at Lake Berryessa.  I was really looking forward to getting a diet Coke at the store at Moskowite Corners (I think that’s what it’s called), recalling that I saw a bunch of riders taking a break there last year, but it looked like it was closed, so I pedaled on.  (I think it was actually open, but I didn't see it.)  That was a major downer, for I could have used a fizzy pick-me-up to keep myself rolling physically and mentally. 

I was kinda tired throughout the day (I didn’t get much sleep the night before the ride), and it caught up to me on the road between the Corners and Cardiac Hill, so by the time I started the hill, I had psyched myself out a bit.  The climb was shorter and less challenging than I recalled (the climb immediately after the lunch stop was harder), and, although I did have to stop once for a break, Cardiac turned into a minor denouement.

Walnut orchards and flat, smooth roads:
This is the last ten miles of Foxy's.

From there, the ride was a pretty straightforward pedal through some small rolling hills, the final rest stop, and then flat roads through some orchards.  I hadn’t noticed that the route had been shortened from 106 miles to 95, but that was perfectly fine with me when I discovered it at the final rest stop.  Last year, the final fifteen miles was extraordinarily tough, even though it was dead flat; this year, those same fifteen miles were just some uneventful pedaling.

In the end, Foxy’s was a good ride, and a fitting end to my personal challenge.  The wind wasn’t much of a factor, so my knees felt pretty good at the end.  It did get a bit hot and humid, but I’d ridden through worse this year.  The food at the rest stops was good, the lunch stop was well stocked, SAG was apparent through the ride, and the route was well-marked, challenging, low-traffic, and interesting.  I’ll be back next year.  I’ll get more sleep the night before the ride.  And I'll try not to let Foxy's get into my head again.

One of the coolest things that happened this year was that I caught up with Samantha from Samantha Cycles a couple times during the day.  We crossed paths just after the second rest stop, and had a chance to ride together for a bit before I fell off her pace, and then we talked for a bit at the final rest stop.  Samantha is a smooth and consistent rider, and it was very cool having a chance to talk to her for a bit, for following her preparation for last year's Foxy's was a very, very big help to me in getting ready for Foxy's last year. 

Another fun moment happened when a rider passed me and asked, with a big smile, if I owned a Kia.  I laughed, and said, "no," and then thanked him because I knew what he meant.  I got the idea for Sock Monkey on Wheels from last year's Kia Sorrento ad.  The thought of a sock monkey toy daydreaming about What Might Be just kills me (and so does that stupid image of the sock monkey on the jet ski).

There's just something hysterical about a guy
in a sock monkey outfit riding a jet ski.

Ride summary:

Total time:  8:30
Ride time:  7:15
Average speed: 13.2 mph
Total mileage:   96.3 miles
Climbing:  3316'

Getting ready for Foxy's....

To help keep the two-wheeled mojo rolling through the last century of the season, I rode the Kern Wheelmen's Spooktacular metric on Saturday.  Each of the rides at this event has some significant climbing, and, while the 90-mile route and the two centuries that were available were waaay beyond my capacity, the metric has some (for me) significant climbing.

6:30 am at Lake Ming

The ride started out a bit cold, with patches of fog, but it quickly warmed up and turned into a good day for a ride.  The first twenty miles or so was pretty unremarkable.  It seems as if the road from Lake Ming to Arvin is a route to the local dump, for the roadside was strewn with trash and urban effluvia.  I don't ever recall seeing so many broken plastic lawn chairs as I did on Saturday morning.  But, things cleared up after a while, and the longest climb of the day presented itself.  The climb up White Wolf grade was five miles of 5-6% grade, for a total of approximately 1500 feet of gain.  The climb is not so much hard as a long and consistent uphill.

The road from Arvin, with White Wolf grade looming in the distance.

After reaching the top of the grade and working through some rolling terrain, the route dropped into the lunch stop at Caliente.  This is a fun bit to ride, with intermittent climbing and descent.  Caliente itself is nothing to hoot about, but I'm guessing that it's a destination of sorts for train buffs, for I saw a couple guys taking photos/video of the trains that passed through the valley.

At the lunch stop at Caliente.  Sheldon Cooper would be in heaven.

The final miles of the ride followed the railroad through some fairly unremarkable rural terrain, and then returned to Lake Ming.  The Spooktacular is not a particularly noteworthy ride. I've ridden it the past few years because the climbing is challenging, but the scenery isn't particularly inspiring (although I do like the ten mile out and back to Caliente), and the rest stops aren't particularly good ("lunch" was a crunchy peanut butter and jelly sandwich). The folks manning the stops are friendly and supportive, though, which makes up for things a bit.  If the ride is the same weekend next year, I'll ride the Templeton Wine and Roses Bike Ride instead--challenging and much more scenic.

Total time:  5:45
Ride time:  5:01
Average speed: 12.6 mph
Total mileage:   63.41 miles
Climbing:  3627'

Funny, this cycling stuff.  I would have thought that I would have a better ride time this year than last; I felt good and thought I was making good time and with minimal problems with a headwind.  But my time ended up being ten minutes longer than last year.  I'm riding longer than I have before, but also slower.  Go figure.

Up next:  Foxy's Fall Century.  This will be the final century of the year for me, and it will be a challenge.  Last year, I struggled badly at the Foxy's; the wind killed my knees early, and I was defeated mentally before I was fifty miles into the ride.  I'm hoping that familiarity with the route and ibuprofen should make the ride less of a challenge....

Centuries 4 & 5!

I really do need to do a better job keeping this thing up to date.


On September 10, I completed the Amtrak Century--my fourth century of the year.  This one was a challenge to register for.  The event sold out in about 20 minutes, and there was a technical error when registration first opened, so it was a bit nerve-wracking getting into the event.  But I made it, and was pretty excited about the chance to take on a point-to-point century.  The ride started in Tustin, and I headed out at 6:30, just as it got light enough to see with my sunglasses on.  I didn't really want to ride the train back (it's supposed to be a heck of a party ride), because I wasn't sure that I could complete the ride in time to catch the train back to Irvine, so Mrs. SockMonkey agreed to drop me off at the start and then pick me up at the end, in San Diego. 

It turned out to be a pretty straightforward ride.  Nothing too challenging, except a steady west-southwest wind all day long that provided a persistent and draining challenge for the knees.  I'd heard that the prevailing wind was west-northwest, and had it been so the ride would have been fast and pretty easy.  We had a storm, though, that blew in and messed up that part of the plan.  About an hour after the start of the ride, it rained and thundered for about twenty minutes, making for a pretty sloppy ride up to the first rest stop.

A little liquid sunshine at the first rest stop. 

Except for the rain, things went pretty smoothly.  The scenery was good, generally, and we got to ride through Camp Pendleton, which was interesting.  The ride doesn't have any real challenges beyond some occasional rolling hills, and the one fabled climb on the route, the Torrey Pines climb at about mile 85, was about a mile and a half of 4% grade--so it wasn't really a tough climb except for being a steady piece of work near the end of the ride.  As promised, they had popsicles at the top....

The rock-hard popsicle atop Torrey Pines

About a half mile before the end of the ride, I encountered Mrs. SockMonkey standing on a corner, cheering on the riders as they made their way to the finish.  I found out later that she'd been doing that for a couple hours while she waited for me to finish.  What a girl!

The ride was fun, but I don't know that I'd do it again, for it didn't provide any standout experiences.  I would highly recommend Amtrak as a first century:  the ride was not particularly strenuous, the route was interesting, the rest stops were good, and the event was well-organized.

We capped off the event with a great dinner that night at The Palm Restaurant in San Diego, where one of Mrs. Sock Monkey's favorite students works as a member of the waitstaff.


Total time:  About 10 hours (I forgot to write it down)
Ride time:  8:25
Average speed:  12.0 mph
Total mileage:  101.13 miles
Climbing:  3294'

__________________

Two weeks later,  I took on my fifth century of the year:  The SLOBC Lighthouse Century.  In a sense, this was a fitting ride to meet my original goal of five centuries, for the 2010 Lighthouse was my first-ever century.  That first century was a great day:  I overcame some challenging wind and heat, and knew, at mile 60, that I was absolutely, positively going to finish and become a century rider.  So, from the outset, I knew that I could complete this year's ride and meet my goal for the year.

How close I came to not finishing.

The Lighhouse is a great ride.  The course is relatively easy, very scenic, and extraordinarily well supported.  The folks at SLOBC provide some of the best rest stops I've seen, they have a great lunch stop with sandwiches and pie, and SAG cars were frequently visiible along the route.  The only ride that compares in terms of support is the Chico Wildflower--but that route is much more challenging.  I believe that the Lighthouse is the best first-time century experience possible.  But on to the details of my ride....

The day started a bit cool, and I debated whether or not to wear a long-sleeved shirt under my jersey.  I eventually chose not to, and it was the right choice:  the weather was cool and it was overcast all day, but it never turned cold, although it was pretty foggy/misty and sloppy for the first four hours.  The mist was a problem in two ways:  First, it kept my glasses wet and foggy for most of the morning, and, second, it caused all kinds of junk to float up in the road and turned the morning into a real flattirefest.   I do not recall ever seeing so many riders with flat tires during the first twenty-five miles of a century.  I counted myself lucky, until I caught a staple in my rear tire right before the second rest stop.  A staple.  As in a staple from an office stapler.  Who the hell drops a staple on Highway 1?  I bet there wasn't more than one staple on the road between Malibu and San Francisco.  But I found it.  After changing the tube and making doubly sure that there weren't any more sharp things poking through the tire, I headed into the rest stop for some water and a bite, and to borrow a floor pump from one of the SAG guys.  It turned out that it was a jacked-up pump, and in using it to inflate my tire all the way to 100 pounds, it damaged the valve on the tube and I had to replace the tube again.  Damn.  I had two tubes in my seatbag, and now they were both gone and I still had some 60 miles to ride.  Luckily, I bumped into a rider who helped out with SAG on my club's ride (The Hungry Buzzard Century), and was able to bum a spare tube.  Emboldened by my new reserve, I headed back out onto the route.

I had hoped to reduce my ride time this year, and things looked auspicious.  I had a tailwind while heading north (an oddity, with the prevailing wind generally south in the region), and was cooking along comfortably through the turnaround at the Piedras Blancas lighthouse.  The wind was a bit tough heading south, but not nearly as bad as the headwind while riding north last year, so I figured I had a shot at a good total ride time, even with the two flats I had to repair.  While at the turnaround, Mrs. SockMonkey, who, once again agreed to be my PSU (personal SAG unit), texted me and asked me if I needed some additional tubes.  I said yes, and suggested that she stop by Art's Cyclery in San Luis Obispo, which was near our hotel.  (A plug for Art's, which is a great bike shop that was very good and helpful to the Mrs.  Highly recommended if you're in the area.)  She got the tubes and handed them off to me at the lunch stop at mile 62.  Refueled and restocked with spares, I anticipated a speedy trip to the end.

The lighthouse at Piedras Blancas.  While it may not be the best or most inspiring photo, it does capture effectively the gray tone of the weather.

Then the hand of fate delivered a deft slap:  at mile 93, I had a blowout.  The rear tire was irreparable, and I was done.  Completely frakked.  My guess is that the sidewall was damaged when the flat occurred, and it took fifty or so miles to cause it to fail.  So, adios to 5 centuries completed.  4.93 centuries does not round up to 5 in cycling math.

A bit hard to see, but that's a 2-inch tear in the sidewall of that $60 Armadillo Elite.  A photo of a heartbreak, if ever there was one.

Again, Mrs. SockMonkey to the rescue.  I called her and told her to pick me up, and she volunteered to get me a replacement tire.  A bit over an hour later, I had a new tire on the rear of my bike,  and I hustled into the finish--an hour and five minutes after the course closed, but a finish nonetheless.  I would have bet a beer that I was the last one on the course, but at least seven other riders finished after I did.  It was kind of cool to hear a group of three girls let loose a huge cheer as they reached their car, located in the middle of a near-empty parking lot.  Courage and persistence warrant reward, even if only by one's closest friends.

A very dirty sock monkey at Cuesta College in San Luis Obispo.  Barriers overcome, ride completed.

So what I expected to be a relatively easy ride to meet my goal turned into a SAG challenge that I would not have met without the Mrs., who wanted me to finish every bit as much as I did.  Thanks, Mel.  It wouldn't have happened without your help.

Mrs. Sock Monkey:  Lifesaver.

The numbers:

Total time:  11:09 (including three flat tires and waiting for a replacement tire)
Ride time:  7:20
Average speed:  13.7 mph
Total mileage:  100.78 miles
Climbing:  2949'

Coming up:  

• The Kern Wheelmen's Spooktacular (I'm riding the metric)
• Foxy's Fall Century (planning on the full century)
• Solvang Prelude (planning on the metric)