2014 The Year in Review

Vacation in the Midwest allows ME numerous options not present while in the ATX.

1. The awesome weather up here promotes slothfulness. Laziness - EMBRACED
2. The array of local beers demands sampling. Bacchus - EMBRACED
3. Being surrounded by family amplifies reflection. Introversion - EMBRACED

So, in a hopped up state of sloth and holiday reflection, here is ME SHARING THE YEAR IN REVIEW WITH YOU

A longtime disciple of the PedalHard dungeon, 2014 beckoned for some change. The trigger was an unfulfilling camp in January-February. Just felt like all involved, including ME, were going through the motions. I still love those guys and am very thankful for the experience gained while training there. I will continue to train there when time/conditions dictate. But, time for some variety. Thanks to Jack Cartwright (friend, ex-client, and triathlete) for helping ME clear the palette.

After signing some release forms that ensured no legal repercussion for Jack working ME to death, it was off to the salt mines. Goals for 2014?

• Ride OUTSIDE. Hamster-wheeling on the turbo is terrible, and should be avoided unless certain peril awaits in 3-D.

• Get stronger. Duh.

• Do the MS-150 in one day 

• Finally cross the Ridge off my ride list. Forever. 

2014 Results:

Goal: Ride OUTSIDE
Results:From March-December, only 13 rides were on the turbo, 224 rides for the year. I think the folks in Barton Creek West are preparing a restraining order, but it was worth it. Gains outside seem more tangible to ME.

Managed to climb this in the 12x25! 

Goal: Get Stronger
Results: Mission accomplished. Nothing more boring than talking power, but I gained in 2014. Thanks for kicking my ass Jack. It worked. Note that 2014 brought more LT tests than I had taken in the last two years combined. All were outside as well.

Do the MS-150 in a day
Results: See "A Mighty Wind" for this debrief. It could have been named "Jesus loves me this I know, for this tailwind tells me so"

Goal: King Ridge
Results: See "King Ridge Highs and Lows" for boring litany about epic rides, deeply meaningful suffering. And beer.

Whiteout

http://2014story.strava.com/video/8970

King Ridge Highs and Lows

To my adoring populace, all two of you that read this pap, the King Ridge Gran Fondo is finally in the rear view mirror. A series of unfortunate events prevented ME from riding in 2012 and 2013, expounding the pomp and bluster about the "Epic-ness" and grandeur of this particular ride to a level that crowded out reason.

Training for this beast commenced in earnest around May, with intervals focusing on tempo and above. More River Hills repeats than should be legal. Fitness? Check.

This was a Dude trip. Challenge declined by the Ticket (#neveragain) but accepted by Ullrich, Ty, the Yeti and me. Given that the Ticket has punched this ride 3 times, his lack of attendance is completely understood. Even more clear after completing the ride, actually. Uneventful trip to Oakland via SWA (no charge for the Bike!) and Tetris Premium packing job got us on the road to Santa Rosa around 8pm Thursday night. Dinner in Petaluma at Hector's Pizza provided an opportunity to sample some unusual food combinations. Greek salad with green grapes and Kalamata olives. New olfactory experience #1! Tuscan Combination Pizza with ingredients that included pico de gallo and taco-flavored sausage. New Olfactory experience #2! Thanks Hector for reminding ME that California is Weirder than Austin! Drive from Petaluma to Santa Rosa was about thirty minutes of Ullrich rolling the window down just after exposing the car to New Olfactory experience #3. This one wasn't so good.

Checked into the world's most expensive Hilton on Thursday night. Bed was comfortable. For the price, the toilet paper should have been gold-gilded. It wasn't.

Friday morning breakfast at the Hotel. Gold-gilded again, but pretty tasty. Bike assembly/shakeout ride was fun. A little warmer than expected. Drivers in California are pretty crazy. Buzzed at 80mph by a crap-Camry. Felt like home.

Lunch at Riviera Ristorante was a highlight. Great pasta (gluten-free on request) hit the spot. With the shakeout behind us and pre-ride anxiety settling in, we decided to scout the climbs. Off we went on the KRGF course. Here are some pics for your entertainment.

 Smile fellas, it's about to get real!

An average grade on King Ridge

Dead Tree in background was alive until Ullrich rolled down the window....

Post-recon, the mood was a little somber. The enormity of the effort drove us to early bed. Starbucks for breakfast at 5:15am exposed us to some quirky Santa Rosa natives. One in particular shared a fascination with the Anniversary Blend. "Is it Medium?" "Is it Medium?" "Is it Medium?" and so on. OCD is a beeyotch. Before you have your first cup of java. As I prepped my daily joe, I noted this on the wall:

No wonder the poor guy was agitated. Starbucks is peddling carcinogenic coffee AND delectable but deadly scones. Only in California can inconclusive research lead to government-mandated, useless over-communication. I digress...

On to the ride. We assembled outside the Finley Center, ME and about 5,000 of my closest friends. The announcer entertained us with hyperbole. That dude must have the key to happiness. At every ride he calls, it's the best day ever! Every day better than the last! And who is riding today? BARRY BONDS! IT'S AMAZING PEOPLE! PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE ALL-TIME HOME RUN LEADER*!!

you just can't make this stuff up...

Anyhoo, Barry may have hit 762 more bombs than ME, but he rode the Medio. We did the Gran. With no chemical assistance, for the record. OK, Finally. 

THE RIDE

First 10 miles we coasted. One bump at mile 12 started the stampede to the base of King Ridge. On that stretch we saw the TRG swarm pass us in a fury. Those guys alternate between full-bore hammering, and smelling the roses alongside Ferdinand. Kudos fellas! "TRG STOPPING!!"

First SUFFERING

At Mile 35, the King Ridge began to assert its gravitational dominance. One mile straight up, a break then another five/six miles of climbing so slow that my Garmin got bored and paused about 5 times. Oooof that was hard.

Screaming descent down to a metal bridge straight out of a Freddie Kruger movie got ME past what is considered to be the most dangerous part of the ride. Not long after I got thru there, a cyclist overcooked a turn, flying twenty feet to a sudden, unconscious stop. In all 3 riders were heliported to Hospital, 11 total cyclists broomwagoned to the infirmary. No fatalities. Break out the Silver Linings Playbook!

Mile 48 to Mile 53 were marked by prolonged suffering and rapid descent. My scary moment for the day arrived at Mile 53. Screaming downhill at 44mph on a country road meant for cows and pot farmers is not the place to meet an ONCOMING AMBULANCE. Brakes locked, gravel engaged, air attained. At this point the ride really should have ended for ME. Not sure how I DIDN'T go down. The force of my fat @$$ re-engaging the saddle both knocked  the chain off AND forced the saddle nose about 20 degrees toward the sky. Without a hex tool or a friend in sight, the next 4 miles to the lunch stop were a painful, slow slog. I counted myself blessed to be upright.

At the lunch stop, regrouping was the order of the day. The guys all made it to lunch in one piece, each with harrowing stories about other cyclists not so lucky. As the mechanic helped fix my saddle, at least 3 folks around me dealt with taco-ed carbon rims. It was hot out there, by the way. And getting hotter by the minute.

The bomb to PCH was spectacular, and a little hair raising. The smell of burning brake pads filled the air around ME, as the strategies of the day reduced to survival. The breeze off the Pacific was heavenly, and masked the heat about to rain down on Coleman Valley.

COLEMAN VALLEY 
Yea, though I walk [pedal] through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me (Psalm 23:4)

The first two miles of Coleman was brutal. 55rpms, heat that must have come straight from the furnace of Hell, and grades of 14%+, all 75 miles into the ride. This is why the Ticket said #neveragain. Todd, I get it. #neveragain.

The ride from Coleman into town was a challenge (Joy Road was named on opposite day), but as the barn grew closer, the desire to finish pushed the efforts a bit.

Finally finished, beer earned. Will I go back? #neveragain

POST-RIDE NOTES

Note 1 - Russian River Brewery stop for some Pliny the Elder resulted in a run-in with a fully inked fireplug who must be named Pliny the Asshole. "Make some room for the Table?" Kiss my double IPA dude.

Note 2 - When the German is hungry, don't make him wait.

Note 3 - When the Yeti has more than a whiff of post-ride beer, he goes off the rails.

Saturday in the Country

Dogs. Not the cuddly lapdog type, or the friendly waggy-tail type. We are talking Cujo. Doberman/Hound of Baskerville/German Shepherd/Rhodesian Ridgeback.

It seems that we run up on a dog of this type pretty much every weekend we ride in the country. This weekend, it was on Darden Hill Rd. The largest hell hound in the county ambushed ME and the Badger, causing immediate spikes in Wattage, Heart Rate and Chamois Stains. Endurance Pace immediately converts to Sprint Intervals. Maybe we all need a Tazer.....

Country folk are so nice

7am Pelotonist Manifesto

Around here (in the ATX), 7am May rolls are the best. Here is why:

1. Bubba usually sleeps off his hangover, and his pullout couch is a much less dangerous weapon than his Doolie. (Unless you are the last girl at Midnight Rodeo)

2. Temps at 7am are crisp and cool, with descents sometimes offering three distinct temperature zones. Like the basement in summer. If you live up North, where basements offer respite from tornadoes and your mom's prying eyes.

3. Texas wind, like Bubba (see #1) typically wakes up later. Much like Bubba, if it gets up early, it can be a real asshole.

4.  Karl Marx may have been a cyclist. Friends willing to get out for a 7am ride are likely to do a lot of work in the front, and a good peloton operates best as a socialist collective.

From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.

--Karl Marx

5. Finishing a 4 hour ride before noon is critical. Post-lunch cycling is for dessicated frogs and the insane.

Big Crowd started our 4-hour tour today. 7am roll from the French Bakery. Badger, ME and Ullrich rolled east to Lola, where we hooked up with Hot Rod Lincoln, two of his buddies (Steve and Borat?), Growleur, and of course, the Ticket. GF was also s'posed to join us, so we hung around for a few minutes.

At 7:35, with no evidence that the Dr had rolled out of bed, much less up Bee Cave, I told him via text to "catch us on the way to Fitzhugh". Off we went.

Down BC Hill, where (Jack C is still in the top 3 of the Steep Shot), up Governor's Hill and on toward Old Bee Cave Road. Borat led the way on this stretch, stoically churning, jaw set. A man of few words. Is nice!

Circle Drive was more of the same, a long, stringy paceline interrupted by the occasional buzz by a  Bubba-o-the-morning. Those guys are typically very unhappy, MEthinks. I digress.

Our turn on to Fitzhugh was rewarded by the arrival of the Dr. He turned himself inside out to catch us, as evidenced by the snot hanging from his chin, and the obvious marks of suffering borne by the lone rider.

The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.
--Karl Marx

While Karl may have been totally wrong in his overall economic thesis, he nailed this quote.

The Dough turned up the heat a bit post-arrival of the Dr. (For those that know Jeff,  that sentence was wholly unnecessary). Solid, but not overcooked tempo to the Olive Farm. For loyal readers, this is the location of my Buddy the Elf story a number of years back. There we lost Lincoln and his Logs, who opted to turn back rather than suffer any more of our company, proving their impeccable judgment in character! Thanks for rolling with us fellas! I love your movies!

Shortly thereafter we also lost the Badger, who had to cut the roll short. An amateur carpenter, he had to get back his den to complete some intricate woodworking project or such. He was also gassed, as he hadn't been on the bike in awhile. Good to have him back in the Pelo!

We then headed out toward Ewan MacGregor Lane, where the Obi Wan of Dripping Springs (Ray Moore) was doing some crazy-ass 100 mile climbfest with his equally insane acolytes. Dan, that's you. And you too Dean. On the way we ran into the Dean of Pain (Wayne-don't call me Zig-Ziegler) and his buddy Glenn North. Having not caught up with those guys in awhile, we literally stopped in the middle of the road on Fitzhugh, creating a very interesting navigation challenge for the flatbed crowd that drives that stretch. Always good to see Wayne, particularly when I don't have to hold his wheel.

On we went, bypassing the MacGregor lane loop and opting to spin Sycamore loop. Apparently Dykes named this the Taco Loop, as the elevation changes once conjured a taco from his belly. Not magically of course. Just the common vomit response. This story got us really excited about the loop. But we did it anyway. It was absurdly steep in spots, but generally a beautiful track. And the vomit had been washed away, so it smelled pretty good out there too.

After Sycamore, we refueled at Dan's truck. Thanks Ray and Dan! You guys are gracious hosts, no doubt. We took some water, and left some water, then rolled back. Spirited tempo up to 290, where some mental suffering was traded for the physical type.

Smooth roll back home, no Bubba-buzzes, no controversy. Home by noon. Is Nice!

A Mighty Wind

After several rides that almost made the Blog cut, here is one worthy of the written word.

HOUSTON TO AUSTIN. STRAIGHT UP. STRAIGHT THROUGH.

Self discovery is elusive. This blog will not deal with self discovery in any meaningful sense, so take comfort. No Eat, Pray, Love moments allowed. NO. this is more important. We're talking about the bike.

For ME, the MS-150 offers an opportunity for self discovery. In 2006, this ride was an imposing monster. Two Days of mileage greater than any single ride I had ever done. It was EPIC to complete! A Badge of Pride. Before I drag you further into boredom, please note that:

• The MS-150 is a very touching, emotional experience. Those impacted by the deadly disease line the roads, and their cheers and gratitude make me verklempt then, and now. 

• Completing the ride is truly an accomplishment. Particularly if you are not an acolyte in the Sacred House of the Bike.

From 2006 through 2012, a group of us did the ride. In that time we rode next to guys in chicken suits, unicyclists, and gladly drafted off some of the fastest recumbents on the road. (they dropped me in 2007). However, as time marched forward, my two-wheeled love affair deepened. Old epics became commonplace. Like any Beatles song. You know what I mean. Yeah they are good. But the magic slowly slips away, until one day you just change the channel.  Over time, the waning allure of the ride was finally outweighed by its logistical nightmare. Camping in LaGrange. [Ugh.] Waking up at 4:00am to eat, then standing in line for two hours just to get on the road. [Double Ugh.] We skipped the ride in 2013.

For a number of years our group of two-wheeled silverbacks theorized about doing the ride from Houston to Austin straight up. No stopping in LaGrange. First Reaction: crazy talk! 170 miles in a day? The last 70 unsupported? No way. Insanity.

Time passed. Miles logged. Mountains (some figurative, some literal - Mt Evans) climbed. Insanity morphed. Or the sane lost their senses.

2014 - Let's do the MS150 in a day

Riders - ME, Ullrich, Dykes and Eardie.
Director Sportif - Veej

Veej volunteered to SAG for us on the back half of the ride, making the mission possible. Winds came from the SE, promising 2014 as a near perfect year to roll the Single.

PreRide Dinner at Carmelos
Great carbo load. Determined that I was riding with 3 aggies and a graduate of the Sentinel. Both of those schools crank out lodes of fanatics. Perfect for this ride! (just don't start talking football).

5am Saturday - Rise and Shine, Work to Do! 
Cold Kolaches, Coffee, Chamois Cream...Finally rolled out at 6:17am. 17 minutes late, but still in pitch blackness. The first hour and a half of the ride was off the grid, as no one bothered to load the course. Our lack of certain direction generated some anxiety. Soon enough we were on course and hauling with a wicked tailwind. Through 2 hours, we were averaging 21.0 mph.

Eardie off the front

NOTE - Most MS150 riders are not leg shavers. Which means we passed SO MANY people. One guy almost crashed as we passed him. Startled out of his mind, he screamed "F&$CK!! - let someone know when you pass 'em!!!" Dude, at 15mph, you are gonna get passed by EVERYBODY. Get used to the sensation.

Hooked up with a couple of pacelines, but let each go after realizing they were pushing to 100. We had a little further to go. Eardie is clearly too strong for our bunch. His frequent turns at the front typically resulted in gapping our steady state tempo. Sorry bro!

Lunch time

The ride got really fun after LaGrange. Dropped our lights off with Veej, who thought of everything. Food, Snacks, Drinks. Lunch at the Buescher State Park entrance was a lifesaver. Wheeling thru the park was eerie. Burnt Pines on all sides, the ride was completely different than the shaded canopy of suffering from years past. At the park exit, there was Veej. Ice cream at the Park. I was as happy as a little girl.

The best tailwind of the day was on 969.The most wind was generated by the Doctor. Prodigious. In total, we managed the effort pretty well. No real max efforts left enough in the tank for some spirited climbs up punchy East MLK. Jeff Spicoli's grandson offered to race us on the way in. He was utterly turnt, so I think he was joking.

No mechanicals in the 163 miles of riding. Kind of amazing. We finished at MLK and Congress to great fanfare. Ok, it was Veej. Beers awaited. Like I said, Veej thought of everything!

So what self-discovery occurred?

• We are no longer part of the wobbletotter fabric. But we once were WT's, make no mistake. No shame in it, but there will be no return to those days of neon and bento boxes. 

• Everyone's chasing someone. On this day, we were all chasing Eardie. And Eardie was chasing....? I dunno. Maybe the memory of his last encounter with Rey. 

• Never pass up a postride brew. 

German Selfie

Ray and his Legion of Doom

For those that don't know him, Ray Moore rides his bike like he is starring in a two-wheeled version of a "Speed" sequel. Combine that with his 6 months of sabbatical on two wheels, and you have just the mere outline of the man's cycling game. So when Ray invites you to join him for a ride, interesting things will happen. Stage set for our ride yesterday (January 26). Ullrich and I were instructed to meet at some mailboxes just off Fitzhugh at 10am for 100 miles of easy "endurance-paced" riding. Pre-ride, our big concern was downtime on the bike. With the late start (we are middle-aged Dads, after all), we wanted to preserve some semblance of the weekend. In retrospect, this should not have been in our top-10 list of concerns. Let ME list what we should have been worried about:

1. "Endurance pace" may be the most ill-defined phrase in the English language. 

2. Ray took six months off. TO RIDE HIS BIKE.

3. Dan rode 9,000 miles LAST YEAR.

4. Robb races for Tenzing

5. Dean is a track racer. Did you even know that was a thing in Texas?

6. Ray looks like he hasn't had a burger in 10 years. Mostly because he hasn't

7. Ullrich is feeling more like a warring Hun every day

8. Saturday night we enjoyed an impromptu Belgian Beer Fest at the Badger's house

9. Dan had already rode 4 centuries this MONTH

10. Dean weighs about 120lbs. 

So we went out hotter than Beyonce' at the Grammys. The pace was ridiculous. I heretofore dub it "Surge and Purge." After the first 1.5 hours, we were at 19.4mph, with Ullrich (and ME) frantically looking for the exit. I would like to say it was just Ullrich that wanted to rip, but that would be untrue. The reality is that I am gone soft, and the surge-fest of the first two hours knocked ME out of the enduro-cocoon. 

So when we got back to 962, Ullrich and I begged off the century and headed back up Hamilton Pool. Punishment for the crime of mid-ride AWOL? The switchback at Pedernales. Ugh. Those climbs will make a man regret every Belgian Farmhouse Ale he has ever enjoyed. Ullrich and I spun at our own paces up the grinder, and back to the car. I later heard that in mile 100 or so, Dean erupted in a 1000+Watt sprint. Given the dude weighs about 120lbs, it is feasible that he may have left earth's orbit. While I would have liked to have witnessed that (from the back of the pelo), 80 miles was more than enough for ME.  

http://www.strava.com/activities/109204919