Living with MS is a struggle that I can only imagine, but if someone of something was trying to send me a message this weekend about what it might be like to live with MS, I got that message loud and clear.
I'm no stranger to long-distance riding. In fact, with over 7,500 miles logged since the LAST time I rode the MS-150, this ride was nothing at all to be nervous about. I planned, packed, prepared everything, and was ready to go. I had even rode to work the day before, as usual, not even feeling it necessary to take the usual day of rest before the big ride. The wife and I ordered a couple pizzas from a local Italian restaurant, cheese for me, and settled in for a nice Friday evening. I ate hearty, knowing I'd burn it all off, and drank plenty of water. But for some reason things were not sitting right in my stomach this time. Different sauce? Hard to tell... something was off.... but it was time for bed... I had bigger things to worry about, like getting up at 4:00am to make the jaunt out to Richards Gebaur in Belton. Tomorrow was the big day!
Who was it that said that famous line about 'the best laid plans'? It escapes me now, but it was echoing loud in my head when my alarm went off at 4:00am. I darted to the bathroom with the worst stomach cramps in as long as I can remember, and a few moments later I was flushing the previous evening's nourishment down the drain. Frustrating -- I needed those calories, but for some reason they had not digested -- but I instantly felt better, and decided to go ahead an go to the ride. After all, I had a commitment to pedal out the miles to back up the pledges I raised -- this was not going to stop me! I showered, dressed, kissed the wife and kids goodbye and proceeded to the kitchen. I took my vitamins, grabbed my pre-ride super-carbo endurance fuel drink (with caffeine) and proceeded to the garage, where my fully packed and bike-racked car awaited. I was ready to roll... but my stomach would have other plans.
I was alive with anticipation for such an early hour -- the streets of Johnson County are calm and inviting at nearly 5:00am on a Saturday. Dark pavement with street-lit splotches, the occasional rabbit, house cats darting across the street, and me alone in my trusty Civic motoring southbound, sipping on my breakfast, listening to Paul Oakenfold's latest on the CD deck. Nothing drives an endurance cyclist's soul like good techno-industrial music before dawn.
Almost 30 minutes later, I kill the ignition, emerge from the safety of my car and I am suddenly surrounded by hundreds of my comrades, all in uniform, readying for the day's task. The symphony of tire pumps hissing, Velcro fasteners closing, opening, re-closing, the rustle of windbreakers, the slamming of trunks, sliding van doors, keys rattling, water bottles being shaken, pieces of conversation about the wind direction, temperatures, "it's gonna be a perfect day", "good day for a spin" -- it's a welcome sound, comforting - miles and miles away from the ringing of phones and the clatter of keyboards and clicking of computer mice. I am fully clocked-out, and ready for this weekend.
I ready my gear, and roll my bike up to the hanger at the top of the hill - inside it is bustling with people checking in, standing in line for a pancake breakfast, fastening rider numbers, snapping pictures. Only a matter of time!
Unfortunately, my stomach still has that -- "hey, I'm not empty down here!" feeling. It wasn't as bad as the 4:00am episode, but it was still there in the background as I sat and chatted with teammate Mike Thursby over breakfast, wiping away tears from still-groggy eyes. He does the cause proud -- wearing rider number 17, indicating he raised a LOT of money for MS last year. It was still early...but outside, the first hint of daylight was blossoming in the east. Less than an hour to ride! After breakfast, we rallied for a quick team photo, and then it was outside to the start-line to stand with our bikes and wait for the first gun. Nerves were starting to run high! Sure, it's only a charity ride -- everyone out here has trained, ridden countless miles in preparation, many of us have done this ride before -- this was my fourth year, so why the nervousness? It's just excitement -- hard to explain until you are standing there with your bike.
For me, however, the excitement in the air was punctuated occasionally by the need to exhale deeply -- that 'feeling' in my stomach was getting stronger. "Just ignore it.... ride it off, man", I kept saying to myself - which is the same exact successful formula I've used in the past when things were not quite 100% at the start. I've always managed to ride past the pre-ride 'issues' before - this would be no different.
7:15AM -- the pack is beginning to roll out, finally! The new start location presents more than a couple of logistical problems to the ride organizers as cyclists begin to bottleneck a bit at the route-head. It takes a little working out, but soon it is behind me -- I touch fists with Jim Holt, another Team Sprint rider; we wish each other well for the day, and I am in the saddle at last - ready to work. I half-promised myself I would 'take-it-easy' for the first part of the ride today, for my stomach's sake, but those kind of promises seldom last next to the pure energy of several hundred cyclists jockeying for position. For those that wish for a fast time at the Kansas City MS-150, the key to a good start to the day is to get out of Belton as quickly as you can. The pack begins to find it's own pace in the first 5 miles or so, and the speed demons are busy passing on the right -- I cannot resist any longer. I've never been accused of riding a conservative ride, no matter how advantageous it might be on occasion. I see another Team Sprint jersey coming up on the left... and she is hammering early, too. I take cue, and start my own assault on the pack. The first turn comes, traffic everywhere - both cyclists and cars choke the road. After another 15 minutes and handful of miles I am finally past the last stoplights; entrance and exit ramps coming from the highways below, indicating the first real section of open road -- time to find a pace. I see a few more familiar faces from the local race scene, and exchange a few pleasantries as we fly past the slower riders - a hill comes up and I am alone again (can you tell my training has been hill-specific this year yet?) and I swallow up the last few miles of road before the first big turn of the day -- I have someone latched onto my back in my draft, and the additional inspiration lifts my speed a couple miles-per-hour more -- soon, it's time for the first real hill of the day after another turn --- this is the one no-one seems to remember, because of all the monsters later in the day near Chillhowee, MO. The road pitches up violently, and the pack comes grinding to a near-halt with a clatter of rapidly-switching gears. My training pays off, and I rise from the saddle and dance up the wall -- but at a price. The last few pedal strokes come harder than the first few, and my abdomen begins to scream in protest, legs tightening in the process. The stomach problems I'd nearly forgotten about were coming back in full force. I shifted into easier gears and took a swig of water as I rounded the top of the rise. Things were beginning to feel as bleak as 4:00am, but I continued onward, and managed to get some of my pace back from the effort of the climb, but things were not the same. It was time for me to take it easy, whether I wanted to or not. Thankfully the road was flatter here, and I was less than 10 miles from the second rest-stop. I had at some point blown right past the first rest-stop, and I was half-wishing I'd have stopped for a break. Too late now!
A few miles later, and I was almost feeling euphoric again -- the pedal strokes were coming easier again, and my stomach was beginning to calm down to that dull-awareness feeling back -- there was definitely something still going on in there, but it was again fading into the background. Maybe this would be okay after all? Five miles from rest-stop #2, the pain had subsided to the point that I felt like lifting the pace again, but doing so was a major mistake. A mile of flat-land, and then a few hills came -- even though they were much shallower than that first big hill, they were taking their toll at a faster rate than before. I started up a particularly long rise, and started to shift to compensate -- and I shifted, and shifted, and shifted....until I was out of gear. I had no push left -- at all. Along with that was a nice cold sweat -- combined with the 65º morning temperatures, I was starting to get quite chilly, and it was making me feel downright ill. Less than 1km to the rest stop -- I was definitely taking it. Half disappointed at myself for stopping so soon (last year I didn't stop until the 4th rest stop), I dismounted and walked directly into a porta-john.
About 10 minutes later I was strolling across the gravel parking lot to the medical outpost. They were fairly surprised to see me -- rest-stop #2 generally gets requests for band-aids, Advil and the like... the serious medical issues are usually farther downstream at stops 7 or 8, depending on how hot the afternoon gets. So, when I appeared in the doorway, their faces went from smiles to looks of confused concern.
"Are you okay?" one lady asked.
"Well, I'm not sure yet... I wanted to ask....", about which time I started shaking from the chills of extreme dehydration. I had orally expelled nearly 60 ounces of liquid, and I had NOT had that much to drink yet.
In the process of trying to flush out whatever was upsetting my stomach, my body had effectively diverted all the moisture in my body to my stomach, and with it all the nutrients, electrolytes, minerals and calories I had worked to store up. My system was crashing.
"Uhhh, you should sit down because you're turning white...", and a few more people in red medical shirts appeared.
In a matter of minutes I was laid out on a cot, covered with blankets, blood-pressure cuffs, and concerned eyes. As my shaking condition worsened, and the chills became more pronounced, concerned calls over the medical radio to the main medical station at rest-stop six pretty much nixed my chances of RIDING out of rest-stop #2. I began to resort myself to this reality, and was frustrated that my plans were begin altered by an unseen bug somewhere deep inside my digestive tract. At the same time, no matter how strong my will might have been, there was no way I was going to do much good in the saddle without some serious rest and a some liquids. I began the slow uptake of sugary sports drinks to quench my dehydrated state, and bid farewell to my epic day-one performance I had promised so many people.
At one point there was talk of a drive all the way to Sedalia, to which I adamantly protested. One way or another, I was going to finish this ride on a bike - even if a large chunk of it was going to be missing from the middle. About forty-five minutes later, I was crawling into the back of an SUV and laying down for a long drive to rest-stop #6 for a medical re-evaluation. The chills began to melt away from the sun streaming thru the windows, and soon the lull of the tires and engine found me drifting into an exhaustive sleep.
Before I knew it, I was coming awake after having slept a good amount of time in the back of the SUV. I was at rest stop #6, and it was time to check in at the main medical tent and possibly get a clean bill of health. I really wanted to continue riding. Another 45 minutes or so, and I was sitting up and getting ready to go. I still did not feel like eating, and the first thing I did after I returned to my bike was pour out the nearly full bottle of Perperteum – I had a few sips of it right before rest stop #2, thinking that I was bonked, and in the process I developed a pretty bad taste association with the orange-vanilla flavor. I would do the rest of the ride on Gatorade and water, something I was more than a little nervous about based on previous experience. My only strategy at this point was to finish, not to finish fast, so perhaps it would be okay. I threw my leg over the top tube of the bike again, and I was rolling. I stopped on my way out of the checkpoint, after having bumped into Scott Woermann – he was having an epic day so far, and was talking to the folks at the Bike Stop trailer about how well his bike was working. We parted ways, and I was on the open road again for the first time in a couple hours.
I slowly raised my pace back up, and soon I was feeling pretty good, even on the hills. The ride in the SUV had put me back near the front of the field again – I wasn’t sure if I should’ve felt guilty about that, but it was nice to have familiar territory – empty pavement. Having logged nearly every single mile in utter solitude this year, I was used to being alone with my thoughts and the pavement. This way I could regain my pace, and do some self-evaluation of my physical issues. So far, so good. The miles were coming easier this time. Before long, I was starting to sweep up some of the riders from the road ahead. Not bad, considering the way the morning had gone! Rest-stop #7 came and went, then #8, then #9 where I picked up my ‘Century Pin’ for riding 100 miles --- I figured I’d at least get that many for the total weekend. Then, the last 10 miles were upon me.
For some reason, the last ten miles were the best of the entire ride. The maladies of the morning were completely forgotten, and I was finding energy from unknown stores. I began to lift the pace again, sweeping up riders left and right, even small pacelines here and there – including a very persistent three-man group that presented a fun challenge to the last 5 miles or so – most of those last 5 miles were on long, rolling hills and I was finding my form again. It was turning out to be a pretty good day – I guess the rest helped. I managed to hold off the pursuers, and rolled into the fairgrounds at Sedalia – DONE! Time to rest!
I checked my bike, got my luggage (thanks, Alan!) and proceeded to kick up my feet and recover a little bit. There was a lot to do at the overnight – dinner, a presentation to watch – including the honoring of the only four riders to complete ALL TWENTY of the Kansas City MS-150s to date! Impressive! Things were winding down, as streams of riders continued to pour in from the road. I bumped into Scott Woermann again, and Greg Caspers, Jim Holt and a few others from the team and from other rides earlier in the year. It was good to see everyone – it’s the people that make this ride so great, after all! I set up my tent, and relaxed to the tunes of the Blue Notions while the sun began to set in the western sky – and before long it was time to turn in. After all, I needed to give my stomach some time to recover, and 4:30am would come very early.
DAY TWO – It was a rough night, but I rose fresh and ready for the next 50 miles. It was going to be an awesome day…but it was quite chilly in the AM, likely in the high-50’s at best. I was ready with arm and leg warmers, and I was comfortable for once – every time I’ve been out here, the second day has always been pretty cold – I’m sure sleeping outside has something to do with it! I got my luggage on the truck, got my bike out of the Swine Hall (nice name, eh?) and proceeded inside for a pancake breakfast. It went down pretty good, along with some twangy orange (?) juice. Heck, nothing beats a free breakfast! A hot cup-o-joe, and I was ready for the start line. Everyone had about the same look on their faces – WHY AM I UP? I met up with Jim Holt and Greg Caspers again, and we chatted about the previous day while we waited for the signal to ‘go’ again. Shortly, wave after wave of riders began to stream away from the start line – Day two was underway!
I credit the pancakes! Day two went much better than day one from the gate. I was feeling fresh, humming a tune or two, and I began to find my pace early – time to make that first bus back to Richards Gebaur! The first part of day two comprises about 12 miles of fairly hilly road as you make your way north from Sedalia – I was in heaven: fast descents and energized climbs out of the saddle, I really enjoyed that first section, and before long it was time for a left turn marking the separation from the long and short options for the day. I took the left, committing myself to the 50 mile option. Day one’s route is nice, but I live for day two – it’s arguably more scenic, with rolling hills, endless fields, old barns, the occasional horse-drawn carriage near the Amish community on highway B, and very little vehicle traffic. After conquering the hills and most of the pack, I settled into a cozy 21-23 MPH pace into a slight headwind and started the march to Knob Noster, MO. One by one, I picked off riders and exchanged ‘good-morning’ wishes, taking in the scenery as I went – my only regret was not taking along the camera for Day two – missed several good shots, but I guess I was a little tired and forgot to put it in my back pocket!
I managed to stay on the bike with zero problems all the way to the 40 mile point on the road – time for a refill of Gatorade and water. I stopped in, and said hey to a few more familiar faces, including Scott Woermann’s wife and the doctor from Rest-stop #6 from yesterday.
“Feeling better I see! Only a dozen or so riders through here so far”, he yells.
A little later, a big paceline rolls up, including a few members of Team Sprint – they continue on, but more than half the line stops for the break also. I think Caspers was in the first group, but I can’t be sure – they were FLYING! I shed the arm and leg warmers, and enjoyed an orange while I rested a spell. It was warming up fast out here! Excellent day – good day for a ride, always. Back on the bike, and feeling good, I stuck with the big paceline, at least until I got frisky and shot off the front in typical fashion. It would not last, though – the sheer momentum of a 25-person line will eventually run down all the individual riders, and I was no exception. They passed me up, and advanced up the road a bit. Day two, however, was my day to make up for Day One’s shortcomings. After all, I had promised to sweat and hurt for the cause, right? Time to work – I shifted into a harder gear, and began to eat up some of the road between myself and the last man in the big line. Slowly but surely, I was gaining ground – then I was on the back, enjoying the draft – we were making very good time, hitting 30 MPH easily on descents and hammering the flat sections at a 25-27 MPH clip, the entire line flexing back and forth across the lane like a serpent with an accordion for a body. In no time at all, we were at the sharp left turn that rejoins the short and long loops, and the road was suddenly clogged with other riders. The line maintained enough momentum to get over the next couple of hills, but eventually we began to slow a little. I was primed and ready, so I advanced up the line on the left and the leader and I shared a few bars of a song from the musical “Oklahoma” – ‘O, what a Beautiful Morning’, I think it was – not sure WHERE that came from! – and I was off the front of the group again, but again not for long. About a mile later, I was getting overtaken again, but this time the wordplay between myself and the paceline leader was inspiration enough. He began to appear over my left shoulder, and I greeted him with a groan of self-disappointment.
“Sucked up by the peloton, again!” he triumphed.
But I would not have it this time! I shifted, laid down a serious acceleration and was off the front again, this time for good – an awesome day, indeed, as I finally rolled across the finish line about five minutes ahead of that paceline. Still feeling a little ‘iffy’, but I was DONE --- time to relax on the bus back to Gebaur.
Dude, climbing to the finish!
Yeah, yeah – it’s not a race, but I was feeling good – a little speed play is always good for the soul! So was the applause as I crossed the line with a salute to the crowd with raised hands – It was awesome to finish! Physical adversity, personal challenges, and (for me) 105 miles later, my MS-150 was over. I had earned the century pin from yesterday at the very least, but consider me 45 miles short for the cause. I’ll make it up next year --- I’m already planning on taking a little detour and turning Day One into a 150 mile affair next September. Heck, I might even ride TO Richards Gebaur next year – if I get a hotel room in Sedalia, I can eliminate nearly half my luggage by leaving the tent at home. Hmmmm…. MS-250, anyone?
Wonder how many extra pledges THAT might raise???
Actually, I’m starting a new team next year – Team CommuterDude (who’da thought, right?) – IF YOU WANT TO SADDLE UP FOR THE CAUSE, you know where to contact me!
Well, for this year the ride is a wrap! See you in September 2004!
October 2, 2007
From the Archives: The 2004 MS-150
Sept. 11th & 12th, 2004
The Kansas City MS-150
Team CommuterDude
A Ride to Remember!
The FIFTH MS-150!
A personal milestone, of sorts.
So, how did I get here? The first time I rode the MS-150, I was sore for days. Saddle sores, and aches caused by mal-adjusted equipment that lasted long after the ride. It was a long, long day. That first ride was a personal challenge. I had only been back on the bike for a year, and that first year I had logged about 300 miles, at the most much of it being bike trail mileage, with a few scattered road rides nothing organized. My training partners at the time had been raising the bar on me for months Shorty took me on my first, real, road ride, and completely schooled me on hill climbing, all with a cigarette hanging from his lips WHILE he climbed crazy. The Warbird stepped in that following spring, starting back on the bike himself after a long hiatus, and, after a few shaky rides in May 2000, began to regain his previous form, and I started a LONG chase that would last for the next four years. Needless to day, when I arrived at the MS-150 on that September morning back in 2000, I was a little nervous. Had I trained enough? Was I fast enough? On a LONG training ride with the Warbird that August, we rode about 90 miles on a route that I came up with that started from my house, wound thru Swope Park, down Blue River Road, around Longview Lake, over to south Olathe, and back north and east to the Warbirds place, then home; I was fully whipped --- I could not ride another mile, much less another ten! Aside from still being mildly out of shape, I was not a fast cyclist, and I had not figured out what to eat. The MS-150 made me a nervous wreck. Until, of course, I was done. After that first day, I was HOOKED forever, and this was before the CAUSE became important to me as well. That first year, it was about discovery, a personal mileage challenge, pushing my limits as a person. I still view that first 100 miles as the beginning of my new life. Anything before that was just a bike ride. I have often used these writings as a forum to thank those responsible for my transformation, because, after all, were men. We lack emotion. We are harsh beings that often dont say what we feel. So, to that effect, THANKS --- to Shorty, for saying to me you need to get off the bike trails, man there is so much more and for later getting me to spin for the first time, even though it would take years to eventually master it still not quite there. To the Warbird I sound like a broken record all over this webpage, but yes, indeed the catalyst for a life worth living, born from steel and rubber and sweat. Its never forgotten or taken for granted. It was not until distance, time, and responsibilities separated us three that things started to take on a different light for me I had lost a training partner; I could do two things ride alone with what I had gained, or share it. It was time for me to become the Warbird for someone else. That was the only way I could continue to carry the torch, and show others the passion that had changed my life. Changed my life may seem cliché, trite, perhaps overkill for what its words invoke but truly, when compared to the physical and mental pathway I had previously been walking on, that is the only way to describe what cycling has done for me. Im so, so far away from the person I used to be, I dont even recognize him anymore.and that is a GOOD thing.
Upon reaching the parking lot at the fairgrounds in Sedalia, MO, that September afternoon back in 2000, and nearly falling over after a botched two-armed salute (!), I was more than ready to tackle ANYTHING, including the 50 miles of day two. We hung out, listened to some live blues music and reveled about the days events. It was a good time! Upon arriving back in Kansas City, I was ready for the next year already even took my first couple of short, cold-weather rides. Our passions, though possibly forced or miss-directed, rubbed off on our mutual friend Alan he bought a bike, and got in a few rides with us that next summer, with a goal of riding HIS first MS-150, and that next September he was with us though not WITH us on the road. The Warbird and I, with a focus on FAST FAST FAST, worked hard that day in 2001, and finished before 1:00pm, even with a few stops figured in! Alan finished a couple hours after us, having taken his own pace, and enjoyed the day. We also met Jim, with whom wed end up doing Ride The Rockies the following summer it was a good time, but day two was a little nasty, with drizzle and lower 50s starting off the day.
After 2002, the MS-150 seemed almost easy getting talked into bigger and harder things, I tackled, with limited success, the spring brevet series that year, finished Ride the Rockies (barely) and rode my first real RACE at the Tour of Kansas City Cliff Drive Classic. It was a banner year, with the crown-jewel being RTR: another life-changing bike event which seems almost silly to non-cyclists but I went into Ride the Rockies with a lot of self-doubt and uneasiness as a PERSON, not just a cyclist. Through a week of hardship, sweat, and self-evaluation along with good-natured competition among new and old friends, and KILLER scenery, I emerged quite literally with a new outlook on life that I am STILL feeding off of today. Best freakin therapy I ever could have hoped for, which is why that tour holds such a special spot for me. Its been joked about in literature, about the wayward soul that went up into the mountains and found himself it CAN happen. After that, the MS-150 would just be icing on an already good year, but the Warbird would have to sit it out this time around, and Alan chose not to participate either. I was alone effectively.
That MS-150 was still a good time, but having no-one to talk with at the overnight was a little depressing, and still having a focus on fast, fast, fast, I finished in what was my best ET for a century at the time, about five hours and 10 minutes or so. Not racer-fast, but plenty fast for me. The result was a REALLY LONG afternoon and evening in Sedalia, with nothing to do but sit and wait for day-two. Day-two, another hammer session, and then right onto the bus for home I was sitting on my couch by noon, which is nuts, really. While certainly NOT a wasted weekend, it did not have the same kind of flavor that I had come to enjoy from riding.
I almost did not sign up for 2003.
However, 2003 was a pretty good year in its own right. After a miserable experience in the 2002 brevets, I came back and conquered three in a row successfully, finishing the 400K in the same 24-hour period in which I had started it, which was the goal. Even the Warbird himself commented on how strong I had been riding, even after 200 miles in the saddle that day. I was very pleased with my cycling, and so shortly afterwards I began my quest for fund-raising for the 03 MS-150 maybe 2003 was the year to finally break that five-hour barrier for a century. After some employer-decisions that I will not ever understand, our Team Captain at the time, Mark, had his position eliminated and suddenly we found ourselves without a leader at the helm. Mark had been a genuine model of a leader, and to imagine that I could have ever filled those shoes was nutty on my part, but I volunteered and gave it a shot. After several rounds of company-wide layoffs and re-orgs, there was not much of a team left to lead, unfortunately. Once a team of 70 strong, back in 2001, the numbers had dwindled into a group of a dozen-or-so. Compounded with a jersey-ordering fiasco that could be another story in its own right, I started 2003s MS-150 with a sour stomach, both figuratively and literally. A situation that actually HAS its own story on this site, I hammered like mad, looking for a new personal record for the MS-150s first day, only to be benched by stomach-cramps and dehydration at the 20-mile marker. Even though I managed to continue later that morning, it was at a much slower pace. Still, I managed to make it to Sedalia under my own power, and after a little rest I had a good second day. After the 2003 edition of the ride, and the experiences Id had captaining that Team, I decided it was time to change my focus. I thought about it, and drafted up a letter that was sent out to all of the team members, and many of my cycling friends. Team CommuterDude was born, and it had one member. Me.
Then there were two. Alan, coming out of the woodwork, decided to etch his new personal goal in stone, and signed up for the 2004 ride under the new team, and a few months later, thru the miracle of internet technology via BikeJournal.com (which, by the way, if you are reading this, currently ride a bike, and DONT have an account on BikeJournal, youre nuts. Crazy. Get one its FREE, and the information in the discussion forums is priceless! Road, mountain, tri-, whatever get on there!) we got two more members! Freshly moved into town, and looking to get back into cycling came Del, and his wife Charmaine. I was pretty excited, and a little nervous at the same time ok, theres someone on your team that DOESNT already know youtime to get real!
After that, Mike, a former member of the FIRST team, joined into the new team which was a great boost! Shortly after that, Krishna joined in as well, completing the 2004 roster. A solid effort, and my biggest fear was laid to rest: in order to be an official team, we had to have at least five members done!
So, that is a brief (ha!) history on how we got to where we are today, as I write my FIFTH MS-150 journal. This years effort was FUN. Still a little rattled by the whole team experience the first time around in 03, I was a little nervous about how things would go, but after a lot of email exchanges and finally meeting the team members on our training rides, it did not take long for all of us to become a pretty tight-knit group. Everything went really well, from the training rides, to the ordering of our custom jerseys!
We arrived the morning of September 11th at the Lees Summit Technology Center, and after a nice, hectic picture taking session in a very crowded hallway, we proceeded outside to grab our bikes and get lined up for the start. I was already amped, because for the FIRST time in my MS-150 history, every single team member was present for the photo. It was a great feeling, and the smile on my face was probably a lot bigger this year in that picture. For example, last year, our team-on-paper was supposedly about 30 strong --- we had about 12 in the photo; a little depressing, to say the least! I tend to blame myself for that, but I can only send out so many emails, I suppose! Working for such a large company, and the only common thread of the team being employment WITH that company, its quite difficult to have any kind of team atmosphere, I suppose going NON-corporate was the right choice, as I could see already.
After a lot of rolling and stopping, and rolling, and stopping, we were off, into the new sunrise! For a short time, we all rode together in a nice, easy double line, rolling down the frontage road for I-470, and Alan (whom always insists that HE is the slowest of the group) starts to advance up the road, apparently feeling pretty good. Mike and I proceeded to rib him a little for that one. There is NO ONE I know that is harder on them self about their cycling than Alan. Even with as little training as he was able to fit in, being a landlord and a single Dad (two things for which he has my eternal admiration), he has increased his average speed by a few MPH this year alone.
Although speed is not the goal for everyone, its nice to see some results from your personal training. Not everyone is a racer, something it took me a while to get past (another enlightenment), but its nice to see someone get better at something they enjoy, always. Where I used to limit my views to getting faster, possibly becoming a categorized racer, I realized that I was missing the point of the whole thing it doesnt matter what your average speed is or what you ride, for that matter were all on human-powered machines. There are enough rifts in life already. I think Ive said it before, but nothing makes me smile inside like seeing a Lycra-clad racer trading pulls with a guy on a fendered Audax bike wearing trousers and a 15-year old helmet. Its been said that you can tell nothing about a riders ability from their appearance there is a guy Ive talked to at some of the local evening rides that commutes daily, rides a very heavy-looking bike with full fenders, 37mm tires, a large rack-trunk, and a battery-light and he could probably drop anyone in the group we ride with, but he chooses not to. He takes his own pace, enjoys the ride. Nothing to prove. The unfortunate thing about human-kind is how we instinctively seem to separate EVERYTHING into categories and boxes were ALL guilty but, this guy is obviously a serious cyclist, something that probably ANY of us could learn a thing or two from, and there are riders that wont talk to him because hes on the wrong bike, or is wearing an older jersey. It doesnt make sense to me.
Speaking of rifts, apparently a few were forming out on the roads already, as our double line started to break apart, which we all expected. Part of the goal of Team CommuterDude was to stay together and ride as a team, but out on the real roads that can be hard to do. People climb differently; have a maximum pace they can maintain, etc, so we all decided that it would be more realistic to re-group at each rest stop along the way. There were eleven such stops along the route, which is perfect ten miles or so at a time, we can all do the ride the way we feel most comfortable, and never be more than a few minutes apart. Even with that option, many of us still chose to ride together and enjoy the miles with a little conversation. All in all, the plan went perfectly. For most of us.
Alan is a man that has learned to smile through some of the worst luck many of us will ever have to endure. It sometimes seems that he never gets a solid break for the background there, you should know that Ive know Alan longer than anyone I currently have contact with, outside my own family of course. Over that (dating myself) 25 year period, hes been handed more bad luck than anyone I can think of, but always seems to come out with a positive outlook. Unfortunately, a weekend that promised to be a welcome break for him and a nice ride, started to take a turn at the eight-mile marker. Front tire blowouts at high speed can be fairly traumatic, but today a tiny bit of luck was on his side still, a flat is a flat this time a front tube-valve failure. After three years of riding on and off, this was Alans FIRST flat, so we stopped, pulled off the wheel, pulled the spare tube I had given him three years before out of the saddle-bag, and proceeded to get him back rolling again. The only problem is with frame-pumps, the undersized ones, you can never tell how much air you actually have in there, but I figured 80 lbs felt about right for 2 miles, where the service at SAG 1 would be able to top it off with a floor pump. Special thanks to Tom, N0NZV, for assisting as well conveniently enough, the flat occurred right near his support post along the route Ive known Tom for years, too, but he probably doesnt recognize me back when I was stuck in Dude, Version 1.0, I was heavier, not active, and working at a local radio shop that he frequented, plus we chased a few storms together working for JCECS still, even if he doesnt realize its me, its great to see him out along the route on the MS-150 each year. The front tire made it, but unfortunately, the rear did not. This was the first two of three total flats for the day, and the soldier still threw his leg over the bike for the start of day two! Unfortunately, day two was cut short by flat number four. But, he was still smiling -- talk about shrugging it off! I would not have had that kind of patience. The cause of the flats has yet to be determined, but after several inspections by different mechanics at the stops, there is nothing in the tires, and nothing sharp like a burr on the rims Im set to mount new tires to his machine later this week, so hopefully we can get to the bottom of that frustrating problem!
Aside from a nagging front derailleur problem that Krishnas bike suffered near the end of day one, and a seatpost adjustment that Charmaine needed on day two, everything else seemed to go just fine for most of the team there were the usual aches and pains, including a dude seatpost mistake of my own. Its simply AMAZING how much of a difference a ¼-inch of extra seat-height can make. After some very high RPM hammer sessions between rest stops, mainly trying to catch up to Del and Mike, a slightly high seatpost left the backs of my legs a little stretched out. Mike, also, had some leg issues near the end of day one, but he still made it through the long route on day two without major injury, which is always good.
The one major thing Id noticed about this years MS-150, compared to years past, was the scenery. The biggest contributor to this was the fact the day-one route was brand new, so perhaps it was my new surroundings but I think more than anything it was the relaxed pace. Even on brevets, which are basically timed-tours, not races, I had gotten into the habit of taking a heavy pace, and had spent most of the mileage looking at a patch of road about 7 feet in front of my front tire. The MS-150s of years past were much the same way. This year, I made a point to look around occasionally, and I was rewarded with really neat views of farms, old barns, and rolling ribbons of pavement that seemed to stretch across the landscape forever. Its not Colorado, but it was pretty nice!
The other nice thing was conversation not only did I manage to spend at least a few miles with each team member along the way, I ran into a lot of folks from last years team, and some other people that I know Ive talked to in the past but swear I cant remember their names! (sorry!) -- and several folks from other rides from earlier in the season, like Connie (sorry about getting your moms name wrong DUH!) and Steve Conner of JCBC fame, saw Ramon S. was out there, M.ASH & The Kid, Jim Holt, Tri-Guy Mike-the-Fish, Tony D., and many, many more familiar faces even familiar volunteers, like Tom (whom I mentioned above), Terry, and the doc at rest stop 7. There are a few I missed, though Da Spinman, Mondonico-Man Woermann, and G-Dog Caspers (he was at Springfield this year). Even met a few new faces along the way (hey, there girl asking me about bike service tips while waiting in line for the loo, stop #2), some of which indicated they might be thinking about riding with us NEXT year, which is VERY cool! In fact, were already guaranteed to break ten total members for next years team, and its not even been a month since the ride! Atul in the house! Im very encouraged by this the more the merrier! Even back at work on Monday, I had two or three people ask me about the ride and how to get more information, a couple of those folks I never would have imagined would have been interested! You never know if a cyclist is waiting to emerge from a person its exciting stuff! even though at this writing its over 350 days away, Im REALLY pumped about the 2005 edition!
All in all, it was a superb time for everyone on the team I got a LOT of positive feedback from the team, and I will probably be glowing about this ride for the rest of the year, at least. The main thing for 2005 is sticking to the plan: TEAM FIRST. Although I would love to have ANYONE join up, there are a lot of folks that still have a goal to hammer out the ride and finish as quickly as possible. My personal outlook and position on the MS-150 has changed, for the better the way our little team did the ride is how it SHOULD go, I feel; there was no stress, no pressure, and everyone had a good time, pretty much at their own pace but we always regrouped, and stayed focused as a TEAM. I almost hate to use this write-up as a recruitment letter, but hey: I will anyways, because I think weve got a good formula going here! If you are reading this, and rode this year by yourself, or with a huge team that made you feel like a number (great, now I have Bob Segar stuck in my head), shoot me an email about joining up with Team CommuterDude 2005 we would simply LOVE to have you along for the ride. No matter how large our little team might become for next year, the goal will be the same. Im thrilled to find that all of our charter members have already committed to the ride for next year, and several of them have already brought someone else on board with them! We may have to come up with something special for 05, though, to rival Team Bike Stop they had squeekey horns and whistles out on the road you always heard them coming! We might need something like air horns, or cow bells (oh, THAT wouldnt get annoying!)
On your left >>>BRAAAAWWWW!!!!<<<
Yeah
As for my personal experience, which a lot of people asked me about, I honestly was having such a good time riding with everyone else, that I really didnt have anything outstanding to report about my OWN ride. I did manage to accomplish, at the LAST minute, my personal pledge goal of riding 5,000 year-to-date miles BEFORE the MS-150 began on 9/11 I had to log some trainer miles in the garage the night before, but hey, I got it, with a little over a half-mile extra for good measure. Actually, I think I was about to doze off when the 5,000 mile mark rolled over, and then I realized Id been on the trainer a half-mile too long AHHHH!!! Get off the trainer and go to sleep!!!
I tackled this years ride for the first time on a different bicycle, also. Looking at all the previous years photos, my trusty metallic orange Schwinn Passage (modified with Ultegra/Dura-Ace component mix) had always been there, in one incarnation or another. This year, I shook things up a bit not only has the orange bike since been replaced with a fancy Italian steel frame, I have added a few more steeds to the stable, including this years choice for the ride, a 1986 Schwinn (ok, I like Schwinns!) World Sport, converted to single-speed for commuting duty. I picked up this prize at a garage sale earlier this year for $25, and just cleaned it up and converted it over to one-gear use. Single-speed is another type of cycling entirely; there are no gears to downshift to for hills, and conversely no gears to shift up to for faster downhills and flat sections. Some people consider this odd, but from a realistic standpoint you really only need one, good gear for all around riding. For commuting, its the perfect fit there are no cables to stretch, nothing to come out of adjustment just keep the chain lubed and the tires pumped, and youre good to go. For short errands and commutes, this is perfect but was it the right choice for a 150-mile weekend? Absolutely!
Another high-point of the ride was riding that bike although I sometimes wished I had installed a slightly bigger gear, as I hammered out 100+ RPM spins on the flats to keep up, it went REALLY well, and attracted a fair amount of attention out on the road. I would pass someone along the way, only to see their shadow sneak back up on my left, followed by, youve only got ONE gear?! What was really fun was at one point along the way, one such shadow snuck in behind Del and I while we rode along, the morning of day two, on the way to Windsor for about three miles, we had someone drafting off of us actually me, for the longest interval no big deal, I thought, as we motored along sometimes its nice to block the wind for someone, especially considering how much wheel-sucking I did back in the day but, I always tried to return the favor, which is just common courtesy. This guy, however, may not have read that chapter of the how to be a good cyclist guidebook. After pulling him along for that period of time, he ducked out to the left, passed us, and kept right on going. At first, Del and I joked about it but the more I though about it, I wanted a pull, too! So, with one gear, I sped up and latched onto his rear wheel until we reached the turn from B highway back to Mo-2 on the way into Windsor. I decided it was time to stretch the legs a little, and perhaps demonstrate what that move of his might have looked like. I threw it down into 130 RPM mode, and proceeded to put some distance into the guy, Del in chase as well. By the time we reached the next rest stop, Im sure hell reconsider giving back a pull next time. Yeah, yeah was that very dude of me? Perhaps not but was it very dude of HIM? Hmmm The point: trade pulls if you take one! Keep the brotherhood alive, man! Its why traffic on the streets is the way it is no courtesy why must we turn cycling into that kind of environment!? (steps off soap box)
It felt good to outrun someone on the 1-speed bike, though, and to some level it was pretty neat to be the freak this year. Im certainly not THE craziest person for doing this on a 1-speed, though. In past years I have seen a gentleman on ROLLER BLADES tackling the 150 miles, and a unicycle on one occasion as well. This year, two guys with HAND-CYCLES took on the 150 mile challenge unable to use their legs, they did the ride on specially-built three-wheeled machines that require you to use your ARMS to pedal --- suddenly, I had VERY little to complain about. I remembered seeing a few of these during Ride the Rockies, also, which eliminated any excuses I previously had about anything cycling related. These guys on RTR had no legs, but there they were, chugging up the mountain passes with the rest of us, their upper bodies sculpted by hours of training for something their doctors probably told them theyd never be able to do. Arms that would make the Governator do a double-take, and with steely eyes fixed on the road ahead these guys knew pain. I have no excuses! I mean, common even with personal, physical road-blocks that Ive overcome to get where I am today, at least I have LEGS, right??? That is one of the things that totally changed my outlook on riding after RTR whether Im on a $25 garage sale junker, or a $5,000 titanium race machine, I have the health and freedom to RIDE. It shouldnt matter how fast or far I go, or what Im riding. As long as higher powers see fit for me to have these gifts, I cant see wasting any time on a couch or in a car. Life is GRAND, and there is nothing quite like spending life with wind in the face, and a slight burn in the legs.
So, what does next year hold, aside from growing the team a little, raising even more money for MS research, and just riding along? Im not sure if another mileage goal is in the works or not been there, and after spacing it out completely during most of the summer and rushing to get it all in within the last 30-days before the ride, Im not sure if that is something I should try to repeat! Im primarily dedicated to year-round support of team CommuterDude, because even after the MS-150 wraps, were all still friends and cyclists so the phone-lines stay open. There will be MORE Team CommuterDude rides next year, with a solid plan for one per month, along with inclusion on the major regional ride calendars, so ANYONE can join in the fun. Others have asked me as well, now that Ive finished 150 miles on a single-speed, whats the next bike challenge? Not sure there, either at the very least, Ill probably do it on the single-speed again, but a recent garage-sale (man, I love a good garage sale, have I said that???) acquisition might hold the answer to that question: for FIVE DOLLARS, I walked away with a 1964 Hercules, English-made 3-speed cruiser/utility bike. The amazing thing about these bikes is how ridiculously well-made they were. These things were built to just be ridden to DEATH. Over-built, with 40-spoke wheels, internal gearing with a bomb-proof Sturmey/Archer rear hub (which was hidden under 1/8 of grime), full steel fenders, and a TON of chrome, this thing must weigh 50 pounds. The scary thing, after probably sitting in this guys backyard for a couple decades, it was RIDE-ABLE as-is. I pumped the tires up, and rolled down my street, to find that EVERYTHING worked perfectly. Crazy. However, the paint is in bad shape, and the chrome is covered with a thin layer of surface rust. After a few frustrating days trying to decipher the old British-standard system of nuts and fasteners (read: every freaking bolt was a different size. I would have had an easier time rebuilding a Renault.) , I finally have the bike torn down to its individual parts. A friend with a sandblaster and paint-booth is waiting in the wings, and the chrome is slowly coming back to life since I have a year or so to get it road-worthy enough to handle 150 miles, I think it might be a good choice for next years event. There will be some modifications necessary, as these bikes were not really designed for long-distance riding they were certainly built to handle it, but they were not designed to give the rider an easy time of it. These utility bikes were designed for errands, trips to the pub, to work perhaps there were other bikes to choose for distances above 10km (keeping it British, Nigel). So, the harsh, wide, steel-plate-with-leather-over-it original saddle will be hung up and replaced with a Brooks model B17S still appropriate for the bicycle, but designed for rider comfort and distance. Things like that will still keep the bike looking as it should, but will help me be able to WALK afterwards! Updates and photos from the project will make their way to this site eventually, so stay tuned!
The rest of this story is best told in pictures, so enjoy the photo essay continued below sincerest thanks to every single member of the Team; it quite literally would NOT have been a good ride without you! It was an absolute pleasure to share the road with you! This was definitely a ride to remember! Cheers!
Ive rambled on LONG enough now its the TEAMS TURN:
Thoughts and highlights from the rest of the team!
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From Del Rider #1473
Most memorable item: 74 year old farmer from Minnesota riding his bike 150 miles in slacks and a long sleeve shirt.
Most memorable moment #2: Same 74 year old farmer at a rest stop, A volunteer asked him, "Are you Ok?", His reply, " I'm fine, how are you doing?". He sounded fresh as a daisy after 70+ miles.
Funniest thing to me: when the doctor from one rest stop remembered Keith from the previous year. You were that sick. I thought that was funny.
Hooking up with the group of quality riders before the Katy Trail rest stop. Loved the story the guy told us about how he got his "FREE" Cannondale bike.(Yeah, right, we all have friends like that.).
Loved riding with my wife. It was great, going back and forth between groups, plus riding by myself. That was nice.
Smokin' past the wheel sucker going into Windsor. That was fun too.
Biggest Regret: Sampling all the "STUFF" on day 1. UGH! Stick with the eating plan. Rookie mistake. Day two eating went much better.
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From Alan Rider #425
My 2004 Ride thoughts and Motto choices.......
1. Sagging More in 2004
2. 4 in '04
3. Combining the MS Ride with the MS Walk..... priceless
4. Ppffffffffffffftttttttt........
5. Dude, Where's my tire????
6. Oh No, Not Again..........Inflatuation
7. 1...2...3...4...What the heck's he walking for????
8. Is that a spare in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
9. Volunteers ROCK!!!!!
10. Outside of NASCAR, this is by far the worst place to get four flats.
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From Krishna Rider #719
.... I still remember the strange look on Keith's face - he really looked like my Dad of long past - after we started from our first watering hole - that was his silent response for my remark "Are we there yet!!!". I was joking since I am a firm believer in the concept that any journey is the goal itself! When I hike up a mountain, the sides are always full of life and interesting than the top, and the top of course happens as I walk along! This is my first long bike ride and I decided to enjoy every moment of it! Of course it did boost my spirits to find the whole Dude gang waiting for me at each stop! I felt special with this gift of friendship! Our bike psychiatrist helped remedy a creaking noise my wheeezy bike developed towards late afternoon on that first day!
.... Huge vistas of swaying yellow fields of grass with the whole farmer's family waving at me, the occasional straight road with hundreds of ups and downs that disappear into a dreamscape! - I pause & wonder and go wheeeeeee down the slope and huff, huff, huff, huff up the hill - am I tired ? - NO - I feel the Lance inside me coming out with bulging muscles, steely glare and a frozen smile (grimace perhaps?). Bikers take over me and of course I take over the nice old man, hesitantly throw a weak smile at him - did not want to offend his age – in fact during the long eastward final lap I take over a bunch of slow raiders and one huff-en-puffer remarks - you are in great shape man! My sagging sprits soar, my legs shift into auto and I take off like the wind!
.... My promise to myself is to be there before the sunset - I get into the lazy slow-pokiness after the last watering hole and finally break at the finish tent in the fair grounds more than one hour before the sun rests! Our nice Alan shows up from nowhere and remarks - thought I missed you, come on I will show you the showers & baggage. I gingerly follow him and spot the bike repair tent who fix my loose gear cable - check tire pressures and give a clean health check.
.... After gulping the dry pasta with salad dressing (I never tried it but it tasted like cork!), we all sit together (except Mike) and it was a surprise to win a rally prize - I guess its all beginners luck!
.... Of course slept like a rock in my tent - waited for any friendly neighbourly remarks next day. Finally Charmaine opens up- what’s that popcorn noise in the middle of the night? I confessed that’s my not so quiet snoring and promised to pitch my tent at the other end of the fair grounds next year:-)
.... I hear singing during the ride back and turn my head and find a jolly good - fellow countryman belting out popular old Hindi Movie songs while biking non-chalantly, I join him and that’s how I met Atul!
.... The reason behind this challenge may be noble - but the experience is unforgettable - I will do it again and again - I like to better myself in both attitude and biking. MS150 is one annual goal for which I am bound to enjoy the biking every day for the whole year! Thanks, Dude!
September 24, 2007
Song of the Week - 9/24
It's been a while since I posted a song, so here ya go...
Chew on this one for a while until I get back from Tejas!
"In the Morning of the Magician" by The Flaming Lips
Enjoy!
Chew on this one for a while until I get back from Tejas!
"In the Morning of the Magician" by The Flaming Lips
Enjoy!
September 20, 2007
Tejas Talk-Out Time - making sense of the task.
Seven days out, and I'm -- well, nervous is the wrong word... anxious, probably not better -- but the pre-race butterflies are coming on as piles of stuff in the garage start turning into neatly organized piles, taillight batteries are refreshed, tires checked, tubes checked, inflators dug out, etc.
Wheels issues need to get out of my head -- I've got one with a slight "thunk" in the freehub body when coasting -- can't feel it from the saddle, but it's there in the workstand (might need a re-grease?), and another that seems to have a bent rim from the build-up, or from warehouse time - hard to tell. Unfortunately (?), the wheel has always been true, so I never noticed the tension issue until I came across the loose spoke itself. Anyways, it better now, but still a slight thorn in the back of my head that I don't need -- luckily it's a backup wheel, at least it is NOW.
The rest of the bike, however, is in great shape -- no issues, no problems. The only problems I can forsee exist within myself, my own head. My Karma seems to be a little out a whack lately, at least that's where my thoughts have turned. Have I been doing my part with regards to keeping it in check, satisfied? Is there a reason why this year has been expecially challenging? I'm coming up dry, but it has served to clear my head a little, and have some perspective. The kids are healthy, the wife is healthy, my mom, grandparents, overall family -- everything seems to be in order, at least as far as I can tell. Things are looking UP, actually, so little things like bike part maladies should not concern me, and it seems the worst is behind me this year. Look forward - clear the thoughts.
Instead of stewing about what I HAVEN'T been able to do to get ready for Tejas, I'm focusing on what I still have time to do. Instead of running myself ragged trying to get miles that won't really affect any outcome, I have decided to hang up the bike for commutes until October, when I return from the event. The clock is ticking, and the small amount of mileage won't help, or hurt. Seven days out, I won't lose ANY fitness or strength, either - so better to REST. REST is critical; I need to ensure I'm getting the sleep my body needs, that I'm awake during the day without caffiene to help. Vitamin intake is up a little, especially vitamin C, to keep things anti-oxidized or whatever. Water intake is up, too. Food intake is DOWN, but not too far down -- more protein, fewer carbs (but defintely NOT zero-carbs). Smaller portions, more often. As a result, seeing as I only woke up to many of these facts jsut after the MS-150, I have indeed been feeling better, with more of a spring in my step, less of a tired feeling, and not quite so bogged down.
While I have not seen a dramatic increase in average speeds, due to simply the lack of time to improve them, I have felt a positive difference in the saddle.
The only things left to do, prep the bike for "ultra-race" mode by removing the rear rack, and the fenders, and finally swapping on the "race" wheelset shod with the new tires. The only thing I'm torn on is information while riding -- hinderance, or motivation? Am I prepared to see small speed numbers and NOT get discouraged late in the ride? Should I have a number to help keep my cadence up? Since the LED headlight seems to interfere with my current, and older, wireless computer, I'm tempted to get what Cateye calls the Astrale -- I used to have an older version of this computer, and it was pretty nice. It reads speed off the rear wheel, and provides cadence -- another handy factor, you can configure the display to your liking. Say, for example, if ACTUAL speed becomes a mental spur while late in the ride on a longer climb, and I don't want to risk seeing something like 9 MPH, then I can switch the main display to read only cadence, and the sub display can read AVERAGE speed. This way, I have a motivator, and can keep an eye on something I CAN achieve on the climbs, which is a steady pedalling rate. There might be enough going on to occupy me otherwise, but I'm not sure if I can go computerless. It's not like I'll be starved for stats, however, as the start/finish volunteers will count out laps, and probably provide last lap times as motivation. Everything is tracked, so do *I* need to keep track? I guess the question to really ask is, would I have removed the computer if my LED headlight wouldn't have interfered with it? Probably not. It'd still be on there, for sure. So, get the wired-up Astrale computer, and have your numbers. If they get distracting... CLICK! Remove it, and toss it in the tent. There is something personal about seeing a BIG number on a computer readout, though -- I've still not seen 300 miles on a single ride, so that might be something. I'll give it some thought.
Why not just run the generator headlight, you ask? Welp, even though I will be riding this ride on a brevet schedule, essentially, to ensure my finish, I have to prep like a racer to minimize drag, wind resistance, rolling resistance and weight. While these things are ultimately unimportant in the rando world (within reason, of course) they become tedious on an ultra-race with laps, when it becomes clear you are carrying things that you simply don't need to. Even a few extra items seem to weight five pounds after 300 miles. I learned this on the 600K, for sure, when I decided the luxury and solid construction of a Carradice saddlebag may not be the bee-knees when the clock is ticking and I'm tired.
Minimalism: For example, I'm taking the frame pump with me, but I won't have it mounted on the bike until I run out of inflators. I'll have a simple flat kit in my back pocket, just enough to get me back to the support area for completion of the repair, new tire, new tube, top off with the floor pump, what-have-you. It doesn't weigh much, but it takes time to use -- time I may not want to burn, since I don't know how the last ten laps will go, or the last five. It would only take a small margin of minutes to replace a flat, one method to the next -- but each minute will be deemed precious as I know I'll likely need them all to finish. Thus, the new tires -- thicker rubber, fresh, less chances of a flat, in theory. So, a couple tire boots, patch kit for the obvious punctures, a full tube for the mystery punctures, and the inflator kit - which should provide enough air to get a road 23c up to 80 lbs, enough to get back to the start line for a top-off.
On that note, I won't even have a regular, smallish seatbag mounted. Things like a spare spoke, zip ties, the chain tool are essential to have ready just in case -- even though it's only a 20-mile loop, and any major mechanicals will have time to sneak up on me with enough notice to get back to the start and remedy them, there are some occurances that can be a show-stopper. A broken chain makes carrying and extra SRAM Power Link, which weighs nothing, essential. It's faster than walking back to the start - rather walking up hills and coasting down for as long as possible. Again, the clock won't stop -- so the couple of grams and the small amout of space it takes to store it is a very small price to pay for insurance. The Fiber-Fix spoke -- hard to tell here -- might be faster to simply undo the brake releases and limp in, rather than try to lace up a spare spoke on the side of the road. Again, time. Undo brakes, get back to the start line, install the spare wheel. Other failures are hard to forsee. My cables are all new within the last 5 months, and that's about all else that can break from use. I have spares of those, too, but that's an easy one --- single-speed it back to the start, and fix it there, under the lights. Bring em, but don't carry em. That covers the bike arena pretty well, and while I'm certainly not riding a time-trial bike, every little bit helps in the weight department -- and if nothing else, it helps the mental department knowing the bike is as trim and race-ready as possible.
The Engine: ME. It's clear, on the MS-150 the cooler weather caught me in a bad habit -- "hey, it's not hot anymore!" And, I didn't drink enough -- this had a negative effect on my mood, outlook for the ride, and my pace. While not the most horrible on-bike performance of my life (I think of the 400K attempt from 2005, actually) it was still something that could have gone better had I followed the simple steps: Drink, Drink before you're thirsty, and drink. Repeat. Keeping hyponatremia at bay, electrolytes delivered in caplet format or through a sports drink. Preferrably a sports drink, for the extra calories. Calories! Another thing that caught me at the MS-150, caloric intake for the effort I was expending. I didn't get the tank topped back off until the evening meal - of course by then it's too late. I can figure that I'm "average", cyclist-wise. No longer a feather-weight, sitting firmly now at 178 lbs thanks to a couple weeks of good behavior now, I will probably require up to 2.5 scoops per hour of SE during the ride, supplemented with plain water and HEED alternated between laps, depending on the heat. The stopping each lap factor will have to be examined. LAST year, it provided me with too many excuses to spend time off the bike and dilly-dally. My average speed improves with time and consistancy, and it takes me seemingly 30 miles to get fully warmed up, so the minimum interval I should be stopping it once every 40 miles, or every OTHER lap. Ideally, every third lap would stretch out the time I can make consistant gains on the bike -- but beyond that I start to approach the limits of what my bike and my backpockets can carry. It won't be like MV24, where the benefit of a good crew member handing up bottles to me preventing me from even having to upclip until the 160 mile point. THAT was a good day!
Camelbak comes to mind again, but after so much time with NOTHING on my back, I don't have time to retrain myself to put up with it for this event. I will have to make stops, but I need to try and stretch them out to 60 miles.
That's 7.5 to 8 scoops of SE in a single bottle for fuel, with water besides for hydration. There are enough electrolytes in SE to keep cramps at bay, so I will keep the seperate electrolyte tabs at the table for between laps when the heat of the daytime comes up. No need to complicate things in the saddle. Hands on the 'bars - pedal. No fumbling for tabs in the back pockets. What DID work well on the 600K was a third water bottle in the back pocket, however, and that's where I'll get my third lap. Between the three bottles, I'll get one bottle of liquid per lap, which should be enough to keep me hydrated, and fueled. Of course, I need to be aware that TIME, and not distance, should be guides for drinking and eating. Twenty mile laps won't neccessarily get clicked off in an hour, so perhaps the 40 mile theory is better? Three bottles, again, but the fuel bottle only having 5 scoops of SE in it plus two extra water bottles will provide a more substantial supply of fluids and fuel for the TIME it should take for two laps - which my math tells me is as follows:
20.01 miles, 16 MPH avg = 1 hour, 15 minutes.
20.01 miles, 15 MPH avg = 1 hour, 20 minutes.
20.01 miles, 14 MPH avg = 1 hour, 26 minutes.
And so on, down to the absolute minimum required average TOTAL speed of 10.4 MPH.
Again, not much faster than a brevet pace, so stops at each 40 mile "control" should not take too much time - assuming I'm, aware of this and don't dawdle. The nature of SE prevents too much pre-mixing, so I will HAVE to stop, mix, fill, and roll. If I can maintain a 16 MPH average on the bike, then perhaps I can float the final 15 minutes of each lap, and make up for it with extra water while stopped? That way, I can indeed get three laps at a time, and factor the race down in my head better.
It's easier to digest eight metrics than it is to do 12 forty-milers, somehow.
When my speed drops, I will adjust. It will drop.
The other problem I just read is that the body needs to get the normal 2000 calories a day IN ADDITION to whay I'll be burning while riding. This presents a challenge that I wasn't really thinking about. That's a fair amount, and I SURE won't be wanting extra SE after a while. I invision buying some foodstuffs once I get to Texas, high-value things like Fig Bars, PB&J supplies, Clif Bars - things I can eat on the move that don't require a lot of prep time, and pulled from the small list of stuff I know won't interefere with SE. Caffinated Hammer Gel will also be a neccessary pick-up item when I arrive down south, for the nighttime laps.
Okay, here we go: goal time:
Aside from the finish, I would like to be MORE than half-way done before I lay down or spend any extended time off the bike. That would be the 600K mark, or slightly beyond it. At LEAST 300 miles, though. I know I can do THAT much, from the 600K in June I reached the hotel in Butler at the 277 mile marker. While I didn't WANT to ride any more at the time, I could have ridden 25 more miles if I'd had to. So, I feel that is a reasonable goal for Tejas -- Ride 300 miles THEN take an extended break, and I will still be on target to finish. By "extended", that will depend on the time left when that milestone is reached - but all in all a three hour nap should be all that's needed to keep me charged up. As much as i'd like to say a 20 minute powernap would work, I just haven't practiced it enough to be confident - nor do I think I can fall asleep quickly enough without turning it into a 2-hour "15-minute" power nap. Best to stick with what I know, and take the time. rising afterwards, knowing I only have a double century left will be a big boost.
Based on my calculations, I should reach naptime by -- uhhhh.... crud, 3:00pm Friday afternoon? Who knows if THAT will pan out or not -- a nap during the day might actually be possible with 300 miles in my legs! In which case, however, who's counting, and I either go for a quad-century and THEN sleep when the sun is down -- or I can break at sundown after day one at the 200 mile point for a shorter nap. Hmmmm... Have a plan, or have no plan at all????
I'll figure on one-and-a-half hour laps, including breaks. Any time not used goes in the bank, and that pace put me at 20 laps down and five-to-go at 11:00pm on Friday night. I'd have 18 hours to do a century. That might be a little optimistic sounding, but that's not including a sleep break. If I rest for four hours, then I'd have 12 hours. That's how much tiem the MS-150 folks give us to finish day-one's century loop. Totally do-able. At that point, I could even take two hours per lap if I needed to which is a paltry 10 MPH average -- after four hours down-time and 400 miles in the bank, that might be all I have in me.
This, however, is a maleable timetable that I won't have printed out anywhere during the race. Nothing kills the mental game like not meeting a schedule. I will watch the clock, but if I hit my, say, seventh lap 12 minutes late, I ain't crying about it.
So, that's about it ---- mental tool box is stocked, and I think I've covered everything. Next update will be the post-ride report, I think, hopefully with photos if I remember to bring the decent camera. Time to get stuff packed up, and ready, since this coming weekend is going to be non-cycling NUTS craziness. Whoof.
Next Wednesday, ROAD TRIP! :)
Wheels issues need to get out of my head -- I've got one with a slight "thunk" in the freehub body when coasting -- can't feel it from the saddle, but it's there in the workstand (might need a re-grease?), and another that seems to have a bent rim from the build-up, or from warehouse time - hard to tell. Unfortunately (?), the wheel has always been true, so I never noticed the tension issue until I came across the loose spoke itself. Anyways, it better now, but still a slight thorn in the back of my head that I don't need -- luckily it's a backup wheel, at least it is NOW.
The rest of the bike, however, is in great shape -- no issues, no problems. The only problems I can forsee exist within myself, my own head. My Karma seems to be a little out a whack lately, at least that's where my thoughts have turned. Have I been doing my part with regards to keeping it in check, satisfied? Is there a reason why this year has been expecially challenging? I'm coming up dry, but it has served to clear my head a little, and have some perspective. The kids are healthy, the wife is healthy, my mom, grandparents, overall family -- everything seems to be in order, at least as far as I can tell. Things are looking UP, actually, so little things like bike part maladies should not concern me, and it seems the worst is behind me this year. Look forward - clear the thoughts.
Instead of stewing about what I HAVEN'T been able to do to get ready for Tejas, I'm focusing on what I still have time to do. Instead of running myself ragged trying to get miles that won't really affect any outcome, I have decided to hang up the bike for commutes until October, when I return from the event. The clock is ticking, and the small amount of mileage won't help, or hurt. Seven days out, I won't lose ANY fitness or strength, either - so better to REST. REST is critical; I need to ensure I'm getting the sleep my body needs, that I'm awake during the day without caffiene to help. Vitamin intake is up a little, especially vitamin C, to keep things anti-oxidized or whatever. Water intake is up, too. Food intake is DOWN, but not too far down -- more protein, fewer carbs (but defintely NOT zero-carbs). Smaller portions, more often. As a result, seeing as I only woke up to many of these facts jsut after the MS-150, I have indeed been feeling better, with more of a spring in my step, less of a tired feeling, and not quite so bogged down.
While I have not seen a dramatic increase in average speeds, due to simply the lack of time to improve them, I have felt a positive difference in the saddle.
The only things left to do, prep the bike for "ultra-race" mode by removing the rear rack, and the fenders, and finally swapping on the "race" wheelset shod with the new tires. The only thing I'm torn on is information while riding -- hinderance, or motivation? Am I prepared to see small speed numbers and NOT get discouraged late in the ride? Should I have a number to help keep my cadence up? Since the LED headlight seems to interfere with my current, and older, wireless computer, I'm tempted to get what Cateye calls the Astrale -- I used to have an older version of this computer, and it was pretty nice. It reads speed off the rear wheel, and provides cadence -- another handy factor, you can configure the display to your liking. Say, for example, if ACTUAL speed becomes a mental spur while late in the ride on a longer climb, and I don't want to risk seeing something like 9 MPH, then I can switch the main display to read only cadence, and the sub display can read AVERAGE speed. This way, I have a motivator, and can keep an eye on something I CAN achieve on the climbs, which is a steady pedalling rate. There might be enough going on to occupy me otherwise, but I'm not sure if I can go computerless. It's not like I'll be starved for stats, however, as the start/finish volunteers will count out laps, and probably provide last lap times as motivation. Everything is tracked, so do *I* need to keep track? I guess the question to really ask is, would I have removed the computer if my LED headlight wouldn't have interfered with it? Probably not. It'd still be on there, for sure. So, get the wired-up Astrale computer, and have your numbers. If they get distracting... CLICK! Remove it, and toss it in the tent. There is something personal about seeing a BIG number on a computer readout, though -- I've still not seen 300 miles on a single ride, so that might be something. I'll give it some thought.
Why not just run the generator headlight, you ask? Welp, even though I will be riding this ride on a brevet schedule, essentially, to ensure my finish, I have to prep like a racer to minimize drag, wind resistance, rolling resistance and weight. While these things are ultimately unimportant in the rando world (within reason, of course) they become tedious on an ultra-race with laps, when it becomes clear you are carrying things that you simply don't need to. Even a few extra items seem to weight five pounds after 300 miles. I learned this on the 600K, for sure, when I decided the luxury and solid construction of a Carradice saddlebag may not be the bee-knees when the clock is ticking and I'm tired.
Minimalism: For example, I'm taking the frame pump with me, but I won't have it mounted on the bike until I run out of inflators. I'll have a simple flat kit in my back pocket, just enough to get me back to the support area for completion of the repair, new tire, new tube, top off with the floor pump, what-have-you. It doesn't weigh much, but it takes time to use -- time I may not want to burn, since I don't know how the last ten laps will go, or the last five. It would only take a small margin of minutes to replace a flat, one method to the next -- but each minute will be deemed precious as I know I'll likely need them all to finish. Thus, the new tires -- thicker rubber, fresh, less chances of a flat, in theory. So, a couple tire boots, patch kit for the obvious punctures, a full tube for the mystery punctures, and the inflator kit - which should provide enough air to get a road 23c up to 80 lbs, enough to get back to the start line for a top-off.
On that note, I won't even have a regular, smallish seatbag mounted. Things like a spare spoke, zip ties, the chain tool are essential to have ready just in case -- even though it's only a 20-mile loop, and any major mechanicals will have time to sneak up on me with enough notice to get back to the start and remedy them, there are some occurances that can be a show-stopper. A broken chain makes carrying and extra SRAM Power Link, which weighs nothing, essential. It's faster than walking back to the start - rather walking up hills and coasting down for as long as possible. Again, the clock won't stop -- so the couple of grams and the small amout of space it takes to store it is a very small price to pay for insurance. The Fiber-Fix spoke -- hard to tell here -- might be faster to simply undo the brake releases and limp in, rather than try to lace up a spare spoke on the side of the road. Again, time. Undo brakes, get back to the start line, install the spare wheel. Other failures are hard to forsee. My cables are all new within the last 5 months, and that's about all else that can break from use. I have spares of those, too, but that's an easy one --- single-speed it back to the start, and fix it there, under the lights. Bring em, but don't carry em. That covers the bike arena pretty well, and while I'm certainly not riding a time-trial bike, every little bit helps in the weight department -- and if nothing else, it helps the mental department knowing the bike is as trim and race-ready as possible.
The Engine: ME. It's clear, on the MS-150 the cooler weather caught me in a bad habit -- "hey, it's not hot anymore!" And, I didn't drink enough -- this had a negative effect on my mood, outlook for the ride, and my pace. While not the most horrible on-bike performance of my life (I think of the 400K attempt from 2005, actually) it was still something that could have gone better had I followed the simple steps: Drink, Drink before you're thirsty, and drink. Repeat. Keeping hyponatremia at bay, electrolytes delivered in caplet format or through a sports drink. Preferrably a sports drink, for the extra calories. Calories! Another thing that caught me at the MS-150, caloric intake for the effort I was expending. I didn't get the tank topped back off until the evening meal - of course by then it's too late. I can figure that I'm "average", cyclist-wise. No longer a feather-weight, sitting firmly now at 178 lbs thanks to a couple weeks of good behavior now, I will probably require up to 2.5 scoops per hour of SE during the ride, supplemented with plain water and HEED alternated between laps, depending on the heat. The stopping each lap factor will have to be examined. LAST year, it provided me with too many excuses to spend time off the bike and dilly-dally. My average speed improves with time and consistancy, and it takes me seemingly 30 miles to get fully warmed up, so the minimum interval I should be stopping it once every 40 miles, or every OTHER lap. Ideally, every third lap would stretch out the time I can make consistant gains on the bike -- but beyond that I start to approach the limits of what my bike and my backpockets can carry. It won't be like MV24, where the benefit of a good crew member handing up bottles to me preventing me from even having to upclip until the 160 mile point. THAT was a good day!
Camelbak comes to mind again, but after so much time with NOTHING on my back, I don't have time to retrain myself to put up with it for this event. I will have to make stops, but I need to try and stretch them out to 60 miles.
That's 7.5 to 8 scoops of SE in a single bottle for fuel, with water besides for hydration. There are enough electrolytes in SE to keep cramps at bay, so I will keep the seperate electrolyte tabs at the table for between laps when the heat of the daytime comes up. No need to complicate things in the saddle. Hands on the 'bars - pedal. No fumbling for tabs in the back pockets. What DID work well on the 600K was a third water bottle in the back pocket, however, and that's where I'll get my third lap. Between the three bottles, I'll get one bottle of liquid per lap, which should be enough to keep me hydrated, and fueled. Of course, I need to be aware that TIME, and not distance, should be guides for drinking and eating. Twenty mile laps won't neccessarily get clicked off in an hour, so perhaps the 40 mile theory is better? Three bottles, again, but the fuel bottle only having 5 scoops of SE in it plus two extra water bottles will provide a more substantial supply of fluids and fuel for the TIME it should take for two laps - which my math tells me is as follows:
20.01 miles, 16 MPH avg = 1 hour, 15 minutes.
20.01 miles, 15 MPH avg = 1 hour, 20 minutes.
20.01 miles, 14 MPH avg = 1 hour, 26 minutes.
And so on, down to the absolute minimum required average TOTAL speed of 10.4 MPH.
Again, not much faster than a brevet pace, so stops at each 40 mile "control" should not take too much time - assuming I'm, aware of this and don't dawdle. The nature of SE prevents too much pre-mixing, so I will HAVE to stop, mix, fill, and roll. If I can maintain a 16 MPH average on the bike, then perhaps I can float the final 15 minutes of each lap, and make up for it with extra water while stopped? That way, I can indeed get three laps at a time, and factor the race down in my head better.
It's easier to digest eight metrics than it is to do 12 forty-milers, somehow.
When my speed drops, I will adjust. It will drop.
The other problem I just read is that the body needs to get the normal 2000 calories a day IN ADDITION to whay I'll be burning while riding. This presents a challenge that I wasn't really thinking about. That's a fair amount, and I SURE won't be wanting extra SE after a while. I invision buying some foodstuffs once I get to Texas, high-value things like Fig Bars, PB&J supplies, Clif Bars - things I can eat on the move that don't require a lot of prep time, and pulled from the small list of stuff I know won't interefere with SE. Caffinated Hammer Gel will also be a neccessary pick-up item when I arrive down south, for the nighttime laps.
Okay, here we go: goal time:
Aside from the finish, I would like to be MORE than half-way done before I lay down or spend any extended time off the bike. That would be the 600K mark, or slightly beyond it. At LEAST 300 miles, though. I know I can do THAT much, from the 600K in June I reached the hotel in Butler at the 277 mile marker. While I didn't WANT to ride any more at the time, I could have ridden 25 more miles if I'd had to. So, I feel that is a reasonable goal for Tejas -- Ride 300 miles THEN take an extended break, and I will still be on target to finish. By "extended", that will depend on the time left when that milestone is reached - but all in all a three hour nap should be all that's needed to keep me charged up. As much as i'd like to say a 20 minute powernap would work, I just haven't practiced it enough to be confident - nor do I think I can fall asleep quickly enough without turning it into a 2-hour "15-minute" power nap. Best to stick with what I know, and take the time. rising afterwards, knowing I only have a double century left will be a big boost.
Based on my calculations, I should reach naptime by -- uhhhh.... crud, 3:00pm Friday afternoon? Who knows if THAT will pan out or not -- a nap during the day might actually be possible with 300 miles in my legs! In which case, however, who's counting, and I either go for a quad-century and THEN sleep when the sun is down -- or I can break at sundown after day one at the 200 mile point for a shorter nap. Hmmmm... Have a plan, or have no plan at all????
I'll figure on one-and-a-half hour laps, including breaks. Any time not used goes in the bank, and that pace put me at 20 laps down and five-to-go at 11:00pm on Friday night. I'd have 18 hours to do a century. That might be a little optimistic sounding, but that's not including a sleep break. If I rest for four hours, then I'd have 12 hours. That's how much tiem the MS-150 folks give us to finish day-one's century loop. Totally do-able. At that point, I could even take two hours per lap if I needed to which is a paltry 10 MPH average -- after four hours down-time and 400 miles in the bank, that might be all I have in me.
This, however, is a maleable timetable that I won't have printed out anywhere during the race. Nothing kills the mental game like not meeting a schedule. I will watch the clock, but if I hit my, say, seventh lap 12 minutes late, I ain't crying about it.
So, that's about it ---- mental tool box is stocked, and I think I've covered everything. Next update will be the post-ride report, I think, hopefully with photos if I remember to bring the decent camera. Time to get stuff packed up, and ready, since this coming weekend is going to be non-cycling NUTS craziness. Whoof.
Next Wednesday, ROAD TRIP! :)
September 14, 2007
Things are looking brighter
Ack -- it's amazing the psychological effect dehydration can have on a person.
Yeah, it's only been a few days, but what a difference in my outlook, planning, and retrospect on the MS-150. I'm looking forward to Tejas now, with higher hopes than Monday's post would have indicated -- or was it Tuesday? I don't remember.
But, the sun is shining on my soul now. Smiles, relaxed shoulders, easy like Sunday mornin'.
Nice sweater... bet it's wool... niiiiice.
ANYways... back to the whole planning phase of things. Yeah, I came up about an hour short on my run at a five-hour century, but with the lack of summer speed training, that really shouldn't surprise me - so it doesn't anymore. Boo-hoo, let's cry about it. Also, yeah, I REALLY didn't drink enough or eat right on the bike -- most of the lack of push I was experiencing was fatigue caused by either /or a combination/ of those two factors, so I know what I need to work on. The endurance base is clearly there, so no more long mileage is needed - I just need to remember to drink, and keep the tank topped off for maximum performance. To wake up the cardio a little this weekend I'm heading out to Longview Lake for a little chasing of the racers - at least that's the plan. I think that's the only kind of training that will help at this point; shorter rides, 40 miles and below probably, to keep the legs fresh, avoid burnout or overuse, but attempting intervals at higher speeds, looking up the road for targets to chase down, seeing how long I can keep the heart-rate up, and then cool back down and repeat. That should get the cardio primed up, and the rest of the cobwebs blown out.
It's only been a few days since engaging in the new diet, also -- rather, the OLD diet, back when I seemed to care more about my performance and my fitness than I did about lots of comfort food. As a result, the digestive system is a little happier already, and I feel a lot less lethargy from all that over-processed and heavy food that I WAS eating. I'm able to trot up the stairs at work again, rather than lumber up them. Granted, I probably don't have enough time for a full de-tox - but I can at least be a little better prepared. The ride itself will be fueled by some of the old standards, with standbys in the cooler, too, just in case something doesn't work. Some good oat & honey balls, bite sized, some Fig Newtons - the easier to chew and digest multi-grain models, stuff like that in case I feel the need to chew on something. Might have something in there to feed myself with before I lay down at the end of the 2nd day, to sorta replicate the "halfway" point of the 600K, when I ate a good meal at the hotel. In other words, do what I know worked.
There shouldn't be any surprises.
Notes to remember:
SPIN. Don't muscle it unless I have to. Those repetitive hills are steeper that I think they are.
No heroics. Let em pass. You ain't holdin' Sam Baugh's wheel for 220 miles, for example. Not sure if he'll be there, but you get the idea.
Set up the tent carefully; scan for rocks, chuck-holes, fallen limbs. Arrive early to get a better spot than last year, and walk CAREULLY when off the bike.
Take enough cloting, but not TOO much, to avoid the: "you know what sounds cozy is that one headband and arm-warmers..." and other such excuses to stop. Only stop if there is a REASON to.
Like...
Bathroom breaks -- make sure I actually NEED THEM. In other words; HYDRATE.
If I don't have to pee every 40 miles, something is amiss. DRINK, foolio!
Don't over-do it, but remember always: I feel better and ride better when I have had enough to drink -- don't let that feeling fade!
Stay positive! The down-times will come -- accept them, know they will pass. Enjoy the good times, smile, talk to the other riders, and make it memorable. Maybe even take a few pics! Why not? Keep it fun!
Keep pedaling, even if it's in the smallest gear I have because it's better than NOT MOVING. Maintain the overall pace of 10.5 MPH, and I WILL FINISH. Pedal 18-20 MPH when I can, but also know that pedalling up a steep hill at 8 MPH is okay, too.
Think BREVET, not race. There are others that came to race, root them on and smile at the prospects of next year, perhaps -- I have come to finish, so ride smart.
Reward myself -- pop a Starbucks Double-Shot can at midnight, and relish in it.
Remember MV24 -- buy a massage on a break from the Sports Therapy tent folks. Stay loose.
Savor the landmarks: 400 miles to go, 300 miles to go, 400K to go, 200K to go! Two laps left! Last Lap! Celebrate! Keep smiling!!! Know that after 376 miles, every mile pedaled is a new landmark, and smile about it - it's a GOOD thing!
And most important: Refer back to this post over the next few days, print it out and stick it in an envelope addressed to myself at the 400 mile marker. (thanks, Ort!)
Contrasted to only a few days ago, my legs feel recovered, fresh, and ready -- this morning's ride to work in a strong north headwind should have been a lot harder, but it was fine. I felt strong enough, climbed well, arrived in good time. I find myself running successful scenarios through my head, instead of having dread. My nerves are calm again. Looking forward to a brisk start to tomorrow AM, for a fast 38 miles at Longview. More to come...
Yeah, it's only been a few days, but what a difference in my outlook, planning, and retrospect on the MS-150. I'm looking forward to Tejas now, with higher hopes than Monday's post would have indicated -- or was it Tuesday? I don't remember.
But, the sun is shining on my soul now. Smiles, relaxed shoulders, easy like Sunday mornin'.
Nice sweater... bet it's wool... niiiiice.
ANYways... back to the whole planning phase of things. Yeah, I came up about an hour short on my run at a five-hour century, but with the lack of summer speed training, that really shouldn't surprise me - so it doesn't anymore. Boo-hoo, let's cry about it. Also, yeah, I REALLY didn't drink enough or eat right on the bike -- most of the lack of push I was experiencing was fatigue caused by either /or a combination/ of those two factors, so I know what I need to work on. The endurance base is clearly there, so no more long mileage is needed - I just need to remember to drink, and keep the tank topped off for maximum performance. To wake up the cardio a little this weekend I'm heading out to Longview Lake for a little chasing of the racers - at least that's the plan. I think that's the only kind of training that will help at this point; shorter rides, 40 miles and below probably, to keep the legs fresh, avoid burnout or overuse, but attempting intervals at higher speeds, looking up the road for targets to chase down, seeing how long I can keep the heart-rate up, and then cool back down and repeat. That should get the cardio primed up, and the rest of the cobwebs blown out.
It's only been a few days since engaging in the new diet, also -- rather, the OLD diet, back when I seemed to care more about my performance and my fitness than I did about lots of comfort food. As a result, the digestive system is a little happier already, and I feel a lot less lethargy from all that over-processed and heavy food that I WAS eating. I'm able to trot up the stairs at work again, rather than lumber up them. Granted, I probably don't have enough time for a full de-tox - but I can at least be a little better prepared. The ride itself will be fueled by some of the old standards, with standbys in the cooler, too, just in case something doesn't work. Some good oat & honey balls, bite sized, some Fig Newtons - the easier to chew and digest multi-grain models, stuff like that in case I feel the need to chew on something. Might have something in there to feed myself with before I lay down at the end of the 2nd day, to sorta replicate the "halfway" point of the 600K, when I ate a good meal at the hotel. In other words, do what I know worked.
There shouldn't be any surprises.
Notes to remember:
SPIN. Don't muscle it unless I have to. Those repetitive hills are steeper that I think they are.
No heroics. Let em pass. You ain't holdin' Sam Baugh's wheel for 220 miles, for example. Not sure if he'll be there, but you get the idea.
Set up the tent carefully; scan for rocks, chuck-holes, fallen limbs. Arrive early to get a better spot than last year, and walk CAREULLY when off the bike.
Take enough cloting, but not TOO much, to avoid the: "you know what sounds cozy is that one headband and arm-warmers..." and other such excuses to stop. Only stop if there is a REASON to.
Like...
Bathroom breaks -- make sure I actually NEED THEM. In other words; HYDRATE.
If I don't have to pee every 40 miles, something is amiss. DRINK, foolio!
Don't over-do it, but remember always: I feel better and ride better when I have had enough to drink -- don't let that feeling fade!
Stay positive! The down-times will come -- accept them, know they will pass. Enjoy the good times, smile, talk to the other riders, and make it memorable. Maybe even take a few pics! Why not? Keep it fun!
Keep pedaling, even if it's in the smallest gear I have because it's better than NOT MOVING. Maintain the overall pace of 10.5 MPH, and I WILL FINISH. Pedal 18-20 MPH when I can, but also know that pedalling up a steep hill at 8 MPH is okay, too.
Think BREVET, not race. There are others that came to race, root them on and smile at the prospects of next year, perhaps -- I have come to finish, so ride smart.
Reward myself -- pop a Starbucks Double-Shot can at midnight, and relish in it.
Remember MV24 -- buy a massage on a break from the Sports Therapy tent folks. Stay loose.
Savor the landmarks: 400 miles to go, 300 miles to go, 400K to go, 200K to go! Two laps left! Last Lap! Celebrate! Keep smiling!!! Know that after 376 miles, every mile pedaled is a new landmark, and smile about it - it's a GOOD thing!
And most important: Refer back to this post over the next few days, print it out and stick it in an envelope addressed to myself at the 400 mile marker. (thanks, Ort!)
Contrasted to only a few days ago, my legs feel recovered, fresh, and ready -- this morning's ride to work in a strong north headwind should have been a lot harder, but it was fine. I felt strong enough, climbed well, arrived in good time. I find myself running successful scenarios through my head, instead of having dread. My nerves are calm again. Looking forward to a brisk start to tomorrow AM, for a fast 38 miles at Longview. More to come...
September 12, 2007
Enough whining
Well, 24-hours later I've gotten a LOT of feedback, online and off, and it's all helped to solidify my thinking on the matter.
"Opportunity, not failure" -- it's up to me to determine HOW I handle and transform this situation. I can sit back, and say "yep, I'm not ready" - so why even try? OR, I could say "yeah, I'm not as ready as I'd LIKE to be", and give it a good shot, and stop being so afraid to fall. I may have hit bottom in the diet department, but the fitness and mileage base is still in there -- it just didn't materialize at the MS-150. I still had a good time, so what's the big deal?! It's supposed to be fun, and I am REALLY gonna be kicking myself if I show up down there WITHOUT a bicycle. I'd still have fun supporting the other riders, sure, but I'd always have that wonder in the back of my head - and that wondering can kill a person on the inside. Better to try, and see, than to be afraid and not even get out of bed, so to speak. Enough whining. I'll use the information I've learned and received from others, behave off the bike, use more efficient fuels on the bike - stuff that has worked in the past, train with it this weekend - and see what I can get. Massive distance isn't gonna do anything for me in the next 14 days, so I'll just keep the legs warm; intervals were recommended, to prime the engine and get the aerobic limit pushed up a little bit. All excellent advice, and I truly appreciate all the comments I've received in the last 24 hours. Means a lot --
After all, there is always next year... but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try THIS year.
Stick to the plan -- just FINISH. And if I can't finish, just enjoy the ride. At least I will have tried!
"Opportunity, not failure" -- it's up to me to determine HOW I handle and transform this situation. I can sit back, and say "yep, I'm not ready" - so why even try? OR, I could say "yeah, I'm not as ready as I'd LIKE to be", and give it a good shot, and stop being so afraid to fall. I may have hit bottom in the diet department, but the fitness and mileage base is still in there -- it just didn't materialize at the MS-150. I still had a good time, so what's the big deal?! It's supposed to be fun, and I am REALLY gonna be kicking myself if I show up down there WITHOUT a bicycle. I'd still have fun supporting the other riders, sure, but I'd always have that wonder in the back of my head - and that wondering can kill a person on the inside. Better to try, and see, than to be afraid and not even get out of bed, so to speak. Enough whining. I'll use the information I've learned and received from others, behave off the bike, use more efficient fuels on the bike - stuff that has worked in the past, train with it this weekend - and see what I can get. Massive distance isn't gonna do anything for me in the next 14 days, so I'll just keep the legs warm; intervals were recommended, to prime the engine and get the aerobic limit pushed up a little bit. All excellent advice, and I truly appreciate all the comments I've received in the last 24 hours. Means a lot --
After all, there is always next year... but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try THIS year.
Stick to the plan -- just FINISH. And if I can't finish, just enjoy the ride. At least I will have tried!
September 11, 2007
The Better Part of Valor
The 2007 MS-150 is history, and another heafty sum of money is raised and backed up by the riders for this noble cause, the drive towards a cure for this horrible disease. Estimates put the rider count at over 2000, which is fantastic!
Once again, I rode for those that I know that have MS, friends or friends and family members of friends afflicted. I sincerely hope that our efforts pay off and make life a little easier for those fighting this affliction.
But, as you know if you've been keeping up, I also rode to test myself again. With the tumultuous summer events, the hip injury, the stress, the addition of a 2nd job, lack of sleep, diet problems, etc., it's been hard to stay focused and positive about the remainder of a year that started out so strong. The goals chart still remains posted, but it's taking on a different flavor now - a flavor of deflation.
Not only does the bell toll fo me, but the bell itself by me was cast.
Even though my personal goals may be dashed against the rocks, my mind full of doubt about the rest of this month, the MS-150 itself was a good time. I resorted myself to the fact that the fitness just wasn't there after mile 50, and tried my best to enjoy the ride and stay positive. The first part of the ride, however, showed some promise - but it was perhaps too little, too late. After finally meeting up with some fantastic new members of the team, Vinnie and MickJuicy, and Crowbar (his first MS ride this year), K-Man, Atul, P-Mo and newcomer Jasig, and other riders from different rides I've done in the past, Fine Jewelry, Caspers & son, and several other familiar faces whose names escape me, I knew it was gonna be a quality day. I ate pancakes and had coffee and juice, the first time I'd paid for the pre-ride breakfast and set aside the usual pre-ride cocktail. Heck, it always worked well on day two, so why not try it for day one? It tasted gooooood. Conversation was awesome - we lounged and talked, and waited for the sunrise.
Luggage was dropped off, and bikes assembled. Then, the first nail came when I locked my water bottles in the car. There they were on the front seat, staring at me, and my car keys were already tucked into my luggage, deep in the back of the luggage truck, with a new bag stacked on top and in front of it every couple of seconds. Argh!!! Oh well... Crowbar was nice enough to lend me his 2nd bottle, and so instantly the ride plans of riding straight through to rest stop 6 were abandoned. There was no way to do it on one bottle, unless I really wanted some problems. The driver's windows cracked, I tried a couple different ways to get the door unlocked, and finally folded to futility. So be it!
We all finished our morning routines, and rolled up to the start line to await the start. The morning was cooler than it'd been in months, very refreshing - finally! It was almost warmers-weather, and I met the notion halfway with arm-warmers on - feeling cozy. Brian Busby gave us the weather and the count-down, and after the hundreds of big team riders hit the road, we were off!
The new route was great, the new start line was fantastic - a great set-up! We rolled out onto 203rd Street, the only street that I really knew the name of around here. After that, just follow the arrows -- I mean, yeah, I knew the highways and cross roads, but it's not really important. It's a great ride, and I already can't wait until next year -- reminds me, I have to get online and register for next year while the rates are low! Sept. 16th is the deadline!!
As I slowly warmed up, I passed my teammates by - as they knew I might - and began my run towards Sedalia, looking for possibly a sub-5 hour finish (rolling time) -- if I could do that, I might well be ready for Tejas. The speed slowly came up, hydration began, and I was actually feeling pretty spry and ready. I knew the dice were stacked against me -- I know the weight is still here. The photos proved it. Yeesh. I know the bike is less-than optimal for ultra-racing, like I have ANY qualms about that, but it can be a factor; but only if I let it -- honestly, after mile 40, I really have tossed this notion out for good: the bike does NOT matter. Period. But the training, and fitness, I know is not where it should be. My only saving grace and hope was that there was something hiding under the dust that was ready to pounce, some notion that after all the trials of late June, July and August with regards to schedules and lack of training, that there would be a well-rested and ready cyclist waiting to have to cobwebs blown off of him.
After mile five or so, the first of the pack began to advance up - the small beginnings of pacelines, the soloists, the time trialists and fit folk using this ride to get ready for Ironman this or that. Strong riders. Two of which, a carbon Raliegh and a nice newer Quintano Roo (I think?) rider, with a yellow X-Lab cage holder and inflator mount -- I decided it was time, and the pace was right. I latched on -- granted I am supposed to be getting ready for a non-drafting solo event, but the speed has to come in some form or another, and it was time to work. They would advance a little, I would bridge, drop back, repeat. Especially on the hills, the only part of my game that I've seemed to hold on to, despite the weight gains. Not shifting a lot, proving that there is still a fixed gear rider hiding under my bones, I would grind the climbs out and them hammer the downhills and flats as best I could. I'd pass, then they'd pass me back - all the while passing up slower riders. The pack grew, and occasionally shrank up again -- it wasn't exactly friendly all the time, as I would get squeezed behind slower riders on some hills while they'd pass up realy close, but all the better to have to push hard to latch back on afterwards. Good training, and it's appreciated. Eventually, a red Specialized Allez joined the fun, and there were four or five of us all changing positions until we approached the first rest stop of the day -- the Raliegh and Roo pulled off, and then it was just me and the Specialized guy -- but I was spent already. Yeesh... I had to let him go, and before long he was gone amid the riders up the road from me, not to be caught again.
This was the first indication that I was not going to reach my goals for the day. It was apparent long before mile 10 that a 20 MPH average SOLO was simply not possible. I just didn't have it in me to hold that pace alone, and a paceline would have to be the answer. Granted, again, the solo non-drafting nature of Tejas was out there, and I realy didn't want to train for something I would not be able to use down there. In the big ring, pushing the biggest gear I could, I was no stronger than 18 MPH. With a group, that speed naturally increases, drafting or not, so I knew that in there somewhere there was the basis for some sort of speed work and improvement. I would have to take what I could get today. For the moment, passing mile 15, I was simply alone, spinning and recovering from the 5 measley miles of speed games. This was pathetic.
Cycling is supposed to be fun, right? If it's not fun anymore, then why am I doing it? The lack of fun was simply coming from the fact that I wasn't meeting my goals, and I knew Tejas was going to be rough. I started to formulate my excuse package. Would I be able to get my registration fee back? No refunds, dude. Dan, the accomplished and decorated ultra-cyclist that runs Tejas doesn't want to hear how rotten of a summer I've had, how I gained weight and didn't train; because at the end of the day it's not his problem -- I paid in good faith that I was physically ready for this event, and whatever happened to me between then and now doesn't matter a bit. *I* let it happen, make no mistake. I am where I am because of me, and nothing else. It all boils down to choices, and many of the ones I've made over the past three months were not good ones. My season essentially peaked in early June, and ended shortly thereafter. It's that simple.
The road stretched on, and I limped in to rest-stop #2. Peanut butter and jelly, some sports drink, and a little rest -- brevet style, maybe three or four minutes, just long enough to get my stuff and get back on the bike, finishing the sandwich as I rolled out. This was familiar territory as I thought back to the 400K brevet that brought us out this way. Highway 58 between Strasburg and Kingville, a road I knew well; Bob's 400K east route brevet, and nearly every MS-150 I've ridden has used this highway at one point or another. It's gotten busier by the year, unfortunately, but there aren't many east-west options, and it's well paved and has a railroad track paralleling it for about 7 miles. I love that part! As I left the rest-stop, I began to try and lift my pace to get clear of this section of two-lane, get out of the traffic and back to country-road riding and wide lanes without worry of passing cars and trucks. I felt a little refreshed with the new input of food and drink, and about a mile out from the rest-stop I was lifting my pace and passing people when I could -- about when I came up on the back of a LONG paceline, probably about 40 riders strong I'm guessing. The accordian effect is a little frustrating at times like this, when you know the traffic is there, and the road isn't quite wide enough to play around. I sat at the back for a little bit, and finally decided this is not where I wanted to be - the line seemed to be going slow enough that if I held 22 MPH, I might be able to pass them up. It was worth a try, at least. I began my advance up the left side of the line, and found myself passing the front of the pack. Another thing I've noticed over the years; the BACK of the pack is no indication of the FRONT of the pack -- SOMEone has to pull that train, and their pace is usualy solid, the accordian effect being caused by slight variations in speed caused by terrain and effort, magnified as they are passed backwards from cyclist to cyclist, and maximum effect determined by how long the train is. Up front, the effect is minimal. I reach the front of the line and a strong group of riders are working hard, a Cervelo or two, a Scott, various upper-end Specialized models, one with a rare Dean carbon fork, and a couple Felt models in the heat. I exchange 'morning's and hows-it-going's, and begin to raise the speed just a touch, hoping to advance away on the left, unanswered. Of course, ANY competitive cyclist worth his salt isn't going to let that just happen, especially when the passer is a fender-shod lugged steel bicycle with tan-sidewalled touring tires. It was never gonna happen, dude... and I found myself the leader of the train, the notion being that if this clown wants to pull, let's see what he's got. Again, it was worth a shot, so I kept the pace up with a personal goal of seeing how long I could muster it up. The miles began to tick by. Fully expecting someone to eventually get tired of my slowish slog and advance up on the left to replace me and spit me off the back, another mile ticked by. I looked down and saw 24 MPH on a flat. I was riding like a man possessed, not really sure where it was coming from but smart enough not to question it. I shoved on, over the slight grades, keeping the pace high, burning the quads, lifting the hams, breathing steady. A fast Amtrack train flies by with a high-pitched wail as I yank the 40+ long paceline thru Kingville, after a brief sprint for the city limits. I expected surely by now that I'd be caught or replaced, but the pack stayed behind me, glued to my rear wheel -- errr, fender. I felt like a rider again, I felt like the very cobwebs I was lugging around were finally getting ripped free and flying off my shoulders like ice off of a Titan IV rocket on liftoff. I accellerated down a descent, and the pack held strong -- 26 MPH on the clock, Kingville was history, and another couple miles were added to my tally of small successes. In the drops, I dropped one more gear and pushed it up another notch, steady.... steady..... another mile. I began to feel a little of the burn come up, but I knew the curve in the road before Holden was coming, from the 400K route... I wanted that curve. I pushed it still, another mile ticked by, and I began to hear chatter over the wind-noise, wondering if I was ever gonna give up the pull! I began to wonder myself... the curve was coming, and we reached it... I signaled off the left, dropped free and began to drift back ot receive the strongest accolades I've ever gotten from the strong bunch. Overweight, tired, frustrated - but somewhere underneath it all was a promise that I was "still in there", part of me "still had it". I really needed that pull -- and I really hope that it build something up, and stripped some of the cobwebs away. I latched onto the midway part of the group, and took my rest, still hammering along at 22+ MPH as the charged up group was roughly half it's original size from my efforts, but still flying along. A little miffed at myself, the route photographers were coming up on the right side of the road! ARGH!!! I should have held on for one more mile!!! What an AWESOME shot that would have been, a record of what was shaping up to be one of my proudest moments on a bike, as the compliments still came from people as far back as 12 deep in the pack, wondering who that "green guy" was, and if he'd EVER give up the pull. I was beaming, and still managed to get a shot with a few riders behind me. I'll remember it always. For all the complaining I do about not having a good summer, I stayed in the pack, flying past the third stop at speed with the group, and finally coming to rest at #4 with them, showing a 19.0 MPH average speed on my computer. I haven't seen numbers like that for ANY distance in a LONG time. It re-enforces the notion that I really need to get back out to Longview and train with that group, maybe put the distance aside and really get some high-RPM, high-speed WORK done -- maybe THAT is what this body needs, not just low-cardio super-distance, but some WORK. I felt alive; tired - a good tired. It felt worth it again. I ate lunch with members of the pack, and we talked it up. I left with a big smile, and new promise in my heart.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long -- after that moment, the tank was empty. I refueled, drank until I didn't need to anymore, and tried to replicate that pace, but it was a one-time shot. There was no miracle waiting under my skin anymore; the rest gained in the past couple months was spent in less than 20 miles, but I was still happy with the result. I knew, however, that I couldn't expect miracles. I'm human, and it's simple: I have not trained, I don't have the ability to hold that pace all day. There was no reserve or natural ability waiting for me. All I had left was the bank of endurance left from the successful brevet series, but there would be no more speed today. I left the fast pack behind me, and knew that the rest of the day would be a lot slower. Instead of 20-mile intervals, I was now stopping at every rest stop, feeling weird, lethargic, bonked perhaps? Dehydrated? Who knows -- I still fueled up, and drank the sports drink - knowing that it isn't Hammer Nutrition stuff, but also knowing that even if I HAD good fuel I wouldn't have the foundation to use it to full potential. Training - it all comes back to training. I simply got derailled, and never got back on the train.
Mile 60, mile 70, mile 80, mile 90 -- more of the same; vague headaches, more people passing me than I was passing, strong pacelines that I just couldn't jump onto, and feelings of self-doubt. It certainly wasn't the weather: with a high temperature of 76 degrees on tap, this was the nicest weather anyone could have asked for, and I think it was the only thing that was keeping my pace even remotely steady. Any hotter, and I would have probably sagged, as hard as it is to admit that. I don't know if I would have had much of anything in me if it had been 90 degrees. This, my first distance of any kind since early June, and it was showing that I was out of practice. Oh sure, I was moving forward, but the push was gone. The food wasn't really working, and despite the cooler temps the humidity and slight dry breeze were taking their toll on hydration. I was even regretting taking the century route, the veritable STARTING place for most rides I'd ridden only 5 months ago. A tale of two seasons, after the wreck in July, I just stopped trying. I recovered, physically, wounds healed, but I never got back to where I was. Before that happened, I was riding a 65 miler on a single-speed, leading a good pace, feeling like I had a LOT in the tank, and slowly getting back on top of weight control - and then it all just stopped. It was showing here, on the road, on highway 52 rolling slowly towards Sedalia, hoping it would come sooner, but knowing it was still miles away.
I finally arrived, with my 102 miles and change, a little before 2:00PM. I checked in, got my bag, set-up the tent, and proceeded to wind down.
After that, I behaved badly - much like I have for the past couple of months.
I like beer - I'll be straight about it - but beer doesn't like me. I'm dangerously close to using it as a coping mechanism, like I've been doing with food -- no wonder I have weight issues again. No matter how I might be controlling my potions with regards to food, the beer sets me back, slows metabolism (let's also be clear: in MY body - everyone is different.) I'm not passing judgement, I'm not making dietary recommendations -- but for ME, it's clear: when I was shunning beer and behaving with my diet, I was lighter and performed better. When I started over-eating, eating the wrong kinds of foods, and drinking again, I have gained weight and my performance has suffered. It's black and white, and with my obsessive personality type, I can't have it both ways. I'm done with beer. NOW, in retrospect, I'm done with it. The night of the MS-150, my thinking was not so clear; I had a feeling of defeatism and apathy. The die is already cast, I'm not going to do well at TEjas ANYways, so I might as well drink something. So I did -- I had four at the Bouldvard tent and two more Heinekens after that with MickJuicy and the crew at our little tent farm. Did I drink ANY water? No. SERIOUSLY???!!! Yup... even after the masssage, the physical therapist who worked for 30 minutes to get three months of tension out of my back told me "drink lots of water, and lay off the beer tonite". I'm simply a stupid man sometimes. I completely ignored her advice and just did what I wanted to do. Some would say that life is too short to deny oneself small vices. I can see that. MY father's passing taught me that in one way or another, life is indeed too short -- but, another thing my father's passing SHOULD have taught me about life being too short is that I have to value the one I have; and I simply have NOT been. I have returned to my old coping mechanisms, and it scares me. I finally think I woke up to this notion in the last 24 hours, after the ride weekend, after realizing what I've allowed myself to slip back into. For me, I simply can't risk it anymore. If indeed the same genetic fate awaits ME in 25 years or so, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING behaving this way? Time to grow up, again.
So it's not "rock-n-roll", so it's not cycling "lifestyle", so it's not "cool" - so what? Eventually, I have to do right by ME and my family - and I owe them and myself better. You want the 2003 perspective? You knew it was coming: I didn't have a drop in 2003. I had success on the bike. Coincidence? Some people can do it - I am not made for it. These moments of clarity happen for a reason, and I'm not ignoring the obvious anymore - I can't sit here at the keyboard and complain about how things aren't going the way I want them too, and turn around and eat 6 pounds of pasta and cheese and slog down a thick lager. I'm fooling myself. NO MORE.
Day two dawned fresh, mild, and breezeless. Pancakes and coffee again, I was fresh - surprisingly - from the night before, and ready to ride. Day one was for me, day two was for recovery with the team. Crowbar and I rode together on the road, and 2004-style the rest of the team met up at the rest stops, every one of them, and we enjoyed the day together. Thankful for the slower pace, I simply had zero push for most of the ride, save for a little speed burst for three miles between Holden and rest stop 8, formerly rest stop 2 -- the same place the speed injection came yesterday for the miracle pull. A paceline had adhered to me, unannounced, so I decided to shake them free - and surprisingly I was successful, but I felt seriously whipped afterwards, and the rest stop came at the right time. I rested and waited for the rest of the team, and again wondered how I was ever gonna complete 500 miles in a little over two weeks time.
Many cyclists know that recumbents are not physically optimized for climbing, right? It takes a strong rider to push the hills on a recumbent bicycle. So, this might give you an idea: as I'm approaching rest stop #9, 5 miles to go to the finish of day two, and the 2007 MS-150, Bonnie's Chain Gang team comes along side me, riding strong and steady, and we all exchange hello's and climb up a mild grade in the road. As they begin to pull up and away from me, a member of the team, riding a recumbent, reaches out and puts his hand on my back. He increased his pedal stroke and assists me the rest of the way up the hill. I was appreaciative, but embarrassed at myself. I know how to climb, and yet I couldn't keep pace. I can do distance, yet only 5 miles from the finish I was spent enough to look like I needed help up the hill. I felt like quite a loser - no fault of the guy pushing me, don't get me wrong. It was nice, and I appreciated the help, but I was upset with myself for actually needing it. What have I let myself become here? his gesture and his offer to finish the rest of teh ride with their group will never be forgotten, but it was also a wake up call that echoed in my brain, "hey, slacker: you just got pushed up a hill by a recumbent. You SUCK." I hit the deck at the last rest stop, almost dreading the last 5 miles the way I did in 2000 when I rode my FIRST MS-150. My body is a little bit different, but I actually feel like I've regressed that far. Two years ago, I would have been pulling that whole group up the hill, not sucking air at the back getting help.
Frustration sets in. While my team finally finished ALL together, looking resplendant in our matching jerseys and smiling, I was secretly upset with myself. This was supposed to be the trend-setting ride, the ride that would get me back to form, and that still may happen after I recover -- but rides this length allow the brain some time to sort things out, and it's come to my attention that I'm just not ready for Tejas, coming up in 16 days. I will still go. I will still mount up on the bike, but I'm thinking of changing my ride classification - maybe to the 200 miler, or the 12 hour, maybe - MAYBE the 24 hour. But 500 miles is a big jump if 186 miles over TWO days is the longest I've ridden since June 2nd, and it sucked this badly. EVEN if I have the endurance bank in me still from the 600K, that's too big of a jump in mileage at the VERY least. Worst case, Ort will have extra crew. Best case, by some miracle, I will finish. But, it's likely that the aftermath of 500 miles in two days will put me off the bike for the rest of the year, *IF* I survive without an onveruse injury from the huge jump in mileage. I was kinda planning on time off the bike anyways for marathon training, which, yes, I'm still signed up for, but it does me no good if I'm off the bike due to injury again. I won't have time to recover, and that will equate to TWO goals getting flushed. Time has run out. Discretion is the better part of valor, Shakespeare wrote - discretion in this sense being the ability to make a sound decision, the right choices based on the situation at hand. I'm now torn between the tenacity of "just do it", and the reality of "you are not trained". Last year, as I limped around the start/finish area, feeling sorry for myself with my fresh achilles injury, I overheard one cyclist, whom had already finished the 500 miles and was showered and rested, mention that he'd ridden "only a double century" the previous weekend. THAT is training. I'm an idiot, I thought. I THOUGHT that I was ready LAST year, and I failed. Today, I *KNOW* I'm not ready THIS year... what the hell do I think I'm gonna do down there???
I'm sorry - this was supposed to be a light-hearted look at what was indeed a GREAT weekend on the bike, but the reality of my goals fading away is setting in, and a nice happy story just isn't in me right now. There were a lot of good memories this year, a lot of firsts for a lot of people, but I have to leave it to those people to tell their tales. I have a lot of self-analysis ahead, some pending emails to ride organizers, and some serious jump-start work to do if I'm going to do ANYTHING positive in 16 days. No, I'm not going to give up - I'm not simply going to say " yeah, that's what happened, so the year is over." I can do SOMETHING in 16 days, and hopefully it's the RIGHT sort of things -- this may not be quite over yet.
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned.
Once again, I rode for those that I know that have MS, friends or friends and family members of friends afflicted. I sincerely hope that our efforts pay off and make life a little easier for those fighting this affliction.
But, as you know if you've been keeping up, I also rode to test myself again. With the tumultuous summer events, the hip injury, the stress, the addition of a 2nd job, lack of sleep, diet problems, etc., it's been hard to stay focused and positive about the remainder of a year that started out so strong. The goals chart still remains posted, but it's taking on a different flavor now - a flavor of deflation.
Not only does the bell toll fo me, but the bell itself by me was cast.
Even though my personal goals may be dashed against the rocks, my mind full of doubt about the rest of this month, the MS-150 itself was a good time. I resorted myself to the fact that the fitness just wasn't there after mile 50, and tried my best to enjoy the ride and stay positive. The first part of the ride, however, showed some promise - but it was perhaps too little, too late. After finally meeting up with some fantastic new members of the team, Vinnie and MickJuicy, and Crowbar (his first MS ride this year), K-Man, Atul, P-Mo and newcomer Jasig, and other riders from different rides I've done in the past, Fine Jewelry, Caspers & son, and several other familiar faces whose names escape me, I knew it was gonna be a quality day. I ate pancakes and had coffee and juice, the first time I'd paid for the pre-ride breakfast and set aside the usual pre-ride cocktail. Heck, it always worked well on day two, so why not try it for day one? It tasted gooooood. Conversation was awesome - we lounged and talked, and waited for the sunrise.
Luggage was dropped off, and bikes assembled. Then, the first nail came when I locked my water bottles in the car. There they were on the front seat, staring at me, and my car keys were already tucked into my luggage, deep in the back of the luggage truck, with a new bag stacked on top and in front of it every couple of seconds. Argh!!! Oh well... Crowbar was nice enough to lend me his 2nd bottle, and so instantly the ride plans of riding straight through to rest stop 6 were abandoned. There was no way to do it on one bottle, unless I really wanted some problems. The driver's windows cracked, I tried a couple different ways to get the door unlocked, and finally folded to futility. So be it!
We all finished our morning routines, and rolled up to the start line to await the start. The morning was cooler than it'd been in months, very refreshing - finally! It was almost warmers-weather, and I met the notion halfway with arm-warmers on - feeling cozy. Brian Busby gave us the weather and the count-down, and after the hundreds of big team riders hit the road, we were off!
The new route was great, the new start line was fantastic - a great set-up! We rolled out onto 203rd Street, the only street that I really knew the name of around here. After that, just follow the arrows -- I mean, yeah, I knew the highways and cross roads, but it's not really important. It's a great ride, and I already can't wait until next year -- reminds me, I have to get online and register for next year while the rates are low! Sept. 16th is the deadline!!
As I slowly warmed up, I passed my teammates by - as they knew I might - and began my run towards Sedalia, looking for possibly a sub-5 hour finish (rolling time) -- if I could do that, I might well be ready for Tejas. The speed slowly came up, hydration began, and I was actually feeling pretty spry and ready. I knew the dice were stacked against me -- I know the weight is still here. The photos proved it. Yeesh. I know the bike is less-than optimal for ultra-racing, like I have ANY qualms about that, but it can be a factor; but only if I let it -- honestly, after mile 40, I really have tossed this notion out for good: the bike does NOT matter. Period. But the training, and fitness, I know is not where it should be. My only saving grace and hope was that there was something hiding under the dust that was ready to pounce, some notion that after all the trials of late June, July and August with regards to schedules and lack of training, that there would be a well-rested and ready cyclist waiting to have to cobwebs blown off of him.
After mile five or so, the first of the pack began to advance up - the small beginnings of pacelines, the soloists, the time trialists and fit folk using this ride to get ready for Ironman this or that. Strong riders. Two of which, a carbon Raliegh and a nice newer Quintano Roo (I think?) rider, with a yellow X-Lab cage holder and inflator mount -- I decided it was time, and the pace was right. I latched on -- granted I am supposed to be getting ready for a non-drafting solo event, but the speed has to come in some form or another, and it was time to work. They would advance a little, I would bridge, drop back, repeat. Especially on the hills, the only part of my game that I've seemed to hold on to, despite the weight gains. Not shifting a lot, proving that there is still a fixed gear rider hiding under my bones, I would grind the climbs out and them hammer the downhills and flats as best I could. I'd pass, then they'd pass me back - all the while passing up slower riders. The pack grew, and occasionally shrank up again -- it wasn't exactly friendly all the time, as I would get squeezed behind slower riders on some hills while they'd pass up realy close, but all the better to have to push hard to latch back on afterwards. Good training, and it's appreciated. Eventually, a red Specialized Allez joined the fun, and there were four or five of us all changing positions until we approached the first rest stop of the day -- the Raliegh and Roo pulled off, and then it was just me and the Specialized guy -- but I was spent already. Yeesh... I had to let him go, and before long he was gone amid the riders up the road from me, not to be caught again.
This was the first indication that I was not going to reach my goals for the day. It was apparent long before mile 10 that a 20 MPH average SOLO was simply not possible. I just didn't have it in me to hold that pace alone, and a paceline would have to be the answer. Granted, again, the solo non-drafting nature of Tejas was out there, and I realy didn't want to train for something I would not be able to use down there. In the big ring, pushing the biggest gear I could, I was no stronger than 18 MPH. With a group, that speed naturally increases, drafting or not, so I knew that in there somewhere there was the basis for some sort of speed work and improvement. I would have to take what I could get today. For the moment, passing mile 15, I was simply alone, spinning and recovering from the 5 measley miles of speed games. This was pathetic.
Cycling is supposed to be fun, right? If it's not fun anymore, then why am I doing it? The lack of fun was simply coming from the fact that I wasn't meeting my goals, and I knew Tejas was going to be rough. I started to formulate my excuse package. Would I be able to get my registration fee back? No refunds, dude. Dan, the accomplished and decorated ultra-cyclist that runs Tejas doesn't want to hear how rotten of a summer I've had, how I gained weight and didn't train; because at the end of the day it's not his problem -- I paid in good faith that I was physically ready for this event, and whatever happened to me between then and now doesn't matter a bit. *I* let it happen, make no mistake. I am where I am because of me, and nothing else. It all boils down to choices, and many of the ones I've made over the past three months were not good ones. My season essentially peaked in early June, and ended shortly thereafter. It's that simple.
The road stretched on, and I limped in to rest-stop #2. Peanut butter and jelly, some sports drink, and a little rest -- brevet style, maybe three or four minutes, just long enough to get my stuff and get back on the bike, finishing the sandwich as I rolled out. This was familiar territory as I thought back to the 400K brevet that brought us out this way. Highway 58 between Strasburg and Kingville, a road I knew well; Bob's 400K east route brevet, and nearly every MS-150 I've ridden has used this highway at one point or another. It's gotten busier by the year, unfortunately, but there aren't many east-west options, and it's well paved and has a railroad track paralleling it for about 7 miles. I love that part! As I left the rest-stop, I began to try and lift my pace to get clear of this section of two-lane, get out of the traffic and back to country-road riding and wide lanes without worry of passing cars and trucks. I felt a little refreshed with the new input of food and drink, and about a mile out from the rest-stop I was lifting my pace and passing people when I could -- about when I came up on the back of a LONG paceline, probably about 40 riders strong I'm guessing. The accordian effect is a little frustrating at times like this, when you know the traffic is there, and the road isn't quite wide enough to play around. I sat at the back for a little bit, and finally decided this is not where I wanted to be - the line seemed to be going slow enough that if I held 22 MPH, I might be able to pass them up. It was worth a try, at least. I began my advance up the left side of the line, and found myself passing the front of the pack. Another thing I've noticed over the years; the BACK of the pack is no indication of the FRONT of the pack -- SOMEone has to pull that train, and their pace is usualy solid, the accordian effect being caused by slight variations in speed caused by terrain and effort, magnified as they are passed backwards from cyclist to cyclist, and maximum effect determined by how long the train is. Up front, the effect is minimal. I reach the front of the line and a strong group of riders are working hard, a Cervelo or two, a Scott, various upper-end Specialized models, one with a rare Dean carbon fork, and a couple Felt models in the heat. I exchange 'morning's and hows-it-going's, and begin to raise the speed just a touch, hoping to advance away on the left, unanswered. Of course, ANY competitive cyclist worth his salt isn't going to let that just happen, especially when the passer is a fender-shod lugged steel bicycle with tan-sidewalled touring tires. It was never gonna happen, dude... and I found myself the leader of the train, the notion being that if this clown wants to pull, let's see what he's got. Again, it was worth a shot, so I kept the pace up with a personal goal of seeing how long I could muster it up. The miles began to tick by. Fully expecting someone to eventually get tired of my slowish slog and advance up on the left to replace me and spit me off the back, another mile ticked by. I looked down and saw 24 MPH on a flat. I was riding like a man possessed, not really sure where it was coming from but smart enough not to question it. I shoved on, over the slight grades, keeping the pace high, burning the quads, lifting the hams, breathing steady. A fast Amtrack train flies by with a high-pitched wail as I yank the 40+ long paceline thru Kingville, after a brief sprint for the city limits. I expected surely by now that I'd be caught or replaced, but the pack stayed behind me, glued to my rear wheel -- errr, fender. I felt like a rider again, I felt like the very cobwebs I was lugging around were finally getting ripped free and flying off my shoulders like ice off of a Titan IV rocket on liftoff. I accellerated down a descent, and the pack held strong -- 26 MPH on the clock, Kingville was history, and another couple miles were added to my tally of small successes. In the drops, I dropped one more gear and pushed it up another notch, steady.... steady..... another mile. I began to feel a little of the burn come up, but I knew the curve in the road before Holden was coming, from the 400K route... I wanted that curve. I pushed it still, another mile ticked by, and I began to hear chatter over the wind-noise, wondering if I was ever gonna give up the pull! I began to wonder myself... the curve was coming, and we reached it... I signaled off the left, dropped free and began to drift back ot receive the strongest accolades I've ever gotten from the strong bunch. Overweight, tired, frustrated - but somewhere underneath it all was a promise that I was "still in there", part of me "still had it". I really needed that pull -- and I really hope that it build something up, and stripped some of the cobwebs away. I latched onto the midway part of the group, and took my rest, still hammering along at 22+ MPH as the charged up group was roughly half it's original size from my efforts, but still flying along. A little miffed at myself, the route photographers were coming up on the right side of the road! ARGH!!! I should have held on for one more mile!!! What an AWESOME shot that would have been, a record of what was shaping up to be one of my proudest moments on a bike, as the compliments still came from people as far back as 12 deep in the pack, wondering who that "green guy" was, and if he'd EVER give up the pull. I was beaming, and still managed to get a shot with a few riders behind me. I'll remember it always. For all the complaining I do about not having a good summer, I stayed in the pack, flying past the third stop at speed with the group, and finally coming to rest at #4 with them, showing a 19.0 MPH average speed on my computer. I haven't seen numbers like that for ANY distance in a LONG time. It re-enforces the notion that I really need to get back out to Longview and train with that group, maybe put the distance aside and really get some high-RPM, high-speed WORK done -- maybe THAT is what this body needs, not just low-cardio super-distance, but some WORK. I felt alive; tired - a good tired. It felt worth it again. I ate lunch with members of the pack, and we talked it up. I left with a big smile, and new promise in my heart.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long -- after that moment, the tank was empty. I refueled, drank until I didn't need to anymore, and tried to replicate that pace, but it was a one-time shot. There was no miracle waiting under my skin anymore; the rest gained in the past couple months was spent in less than 20 miles, but I was still happy with the result. I knew, however, that I couldn't expect miracles. I'm human, and it's simple: I have not trained, I don't have the ability to hold that pace all day. There was no reserve or natural ability waiting for me. All I had left was the bank of endurance left from the successful brevet series, but there would be no more speed today. I left the fast pack behind me, and knew that the rest of the day would be a lot slower. Instead of 20-mile intervals, I was now stopping at every rest stop, feeling weird, lethargic, bonked perhaps? Dehydrated? Who knows -- I still fueled up, and drank the sports drink - knowing that it isn't Hammer Nutrition stuff, but also knowing that even if I HAD good fuel I wouldn't have the foundation to use it to full potential. Training - it all comes back to training. I simply got derailled, and never got back on the train.
Mile 60, mile 70, mile 80, mile 90 -- more of the same; vague headaches, more people passing me than I was passing, strong pacelines that I just couldn't jump onto, and feelings of self-doubt. It certainly wasn't the weather: with a high temperature of 76 degrees on tap, this was the nicest weather anyone could have asked for, and I think it was the only thing that was keeping my pace even remotely steady. Any hotter, and I would have probably sagged, as hard as it is to admit that. I don't know if I would have had much of anything in me if it had been 90 degrees. This, my first distance of any kind since early June, and it was showing that I was out of practice. Oh sure, I was moving forward, but the push was gone. The food wasn't really working, and despite the cooler temps the humidity and slight dry breeze were taking their toll on hydration. I was even regretting taking the century route, the veritable STARTING place for most rides I'd ridden only 5 months ago. A tale of two seasons, after the wreck in July, I just stopped trying. I recovered, physically, wounds healed, but I never got back to where I was. Before that happened, I was riding a 65 miler on a single-speed, leading a good pace, feeling like I had a LOT in the tank, and slowly getting back on top of weight control - and then it all just stopped. It was showing here, on the road, on highway 52 rolling slowly towards Sedalia, hoping it would come sooner, but knowing it was still miles away.
I finally arrived, with my 102 miles and change, a little before 2:00PM. I checked in, got my bag, set-up the tent, and proceeded to wind down.
After that, I behaved badly - much like I have for the past couple of months.
I like beer - I'll be straight about it - but beer doesn't like me. I'm dangerously close to using it as a coping mechanism, like I've been doing with food -- no wonder I have weight issues again. No matter how I might be controlling my potions with regards to food, the beer sets me back, slows metabolism (let's also be clear: in MY body - everyone is different.) I'm not passing judgement, I'm not making dietary recommendations -- but for ME, it's clear: when I was shunning beer and behaving with my diet, I was lighter and performed better. When I started over-eating, eating the wrong kinds of foods, and drinking again, I have gained weight and my performance has suffered. It's black and white, and with my obsessive personality type, I can't have it both ways. I'm done with beer. NOW, in retrospect, I'm done with it. The night of the MS-150, my thinking was not so clear; I had a feeling of defeatism and apathy. The die is already cast, I'm not going to do well at TEjas ANYways, so I might as well drink something. So I did -- I had four at the Bouldvard tent and two more Heinekens after that with MickJuicy and the crew at our little tent farm. Did I drink ANY water? No. SERIOUSLY???!!! Yup... even after the masssage, the physical therapist who worked for 30 minutes to get three months of tension out of my back told me "drink lots of water, and lay off the beer tonite". I'm simply a stupid man sometimes. I completely ignored her advice and just did what I wanted to do. Some would say that life is too short to deny oneself small vices. I can see that. MY father's passing taught me that in one way or another, life is indeed too short -- but, another thing my father's passing SHOULD have taught me about life being too short is that I have to value the one I have; and I simply have NOT been. I have returned to my old coping mechanisms, and it scares me. I finally think I woke up to this notion in the last 24 hours, after the ride weekend, after realizing what I've allowed myself to slip back into. For me, I simply can't risk it anymore. If indeed the same genetic fate awaits ME in 25 years or so, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING behaving this way? Time to grow up, again.
So it's not "rock-n-roll", so it's not cycling "lifestyle", so it's not "cool" - so what? Eventually, I have to do right by ME and my family - and I owe them and myself better. You want the 2003 perspective? You knew it was coming: I didn't have a drop in 2003. I had success on the bike. Coincidence? Some people can do it - I am not made for it. These moments of clarity happen for a reason, and I'm not ignoring the obvious anymore - I can't sit here at the keyboard and complain about how things aren't going the way I want them too, and turn around and eat 6 pounds of pasta and cheese and slog down a thick lager. I'm fooling myself. NO MORE.
Day two dawned fresh, mild, and breezeless. Pancakes and coffee again, I was fresh - surprisingly - from the night before, and ready to ride. Day one was for me, day two was for recovery with the team. Crowbar and I rode together on the road, and 2004-style the rest of the team met up at the rest stops, every one of them, and we enjoyed the day together. Thankful for the slower pace, I simply had zero push for most of the ride, save for a little speed burst for three miles between Holden and rest stop 8, formerly rest stop 2 -- the same place the speed injection came yesterday for the miracle pull. A paceline had adhered to me, unannounced, so I decided to shake them free - and surprisingly I was successful, but I felt seriously whipped afterwards, and the rest stop came at the right time. I rested and waited for the rest of the team, and again wondered how I was ever gonna complete 500 miles in a little over two weeks time.
Many cyclists know that recumbents are not physically optimized for climbing, right? It takes a strong rider to push the hills on a recumbent bicycle. So, this might give you an idea: as I'm approaching rest stop #9, 5 miles to go to the finish of day two, and the 2007 MS-150, Bonnie's Chain Gang team comes along side me, riding strong and steady, and we all exchange hello's and climb up a mild grade in the road. As they begin to pull up and away from me, a member of the team, riding a recumbent, reaches out and puts his hand on my back. He increased his pedal stroke and assists me the rest of the way up the hill. I was appreaciative, but embarrassed at myself. I know how to climb, and yet I couldn't keep pace. I can do distance, yet only 5 miles from the finish I was spent enough to look like I needed help up the hill. I felt like quite a loser - no fault of the guy pushing me, don't get me wrong. It was nice, and I appreciated the help, but I was upset with myself for actually needing it. What have I let myself become here? his gesture and his offer to finish the rest of teh ride with their group will never be forgotten, but it was also a wake up call that echoed in my brain, "hey, slacker: you just got pushed up a hill by a recumbent. You SUCK." I hit the deck at the last rest stop, almost dreading the last 5 miles the way I did in 2000 when I rode my FIRST MS-150. My body is a little bit different, but I actually feel like I've regressed that far. Two years ago, I would have been pulling that whole group up the hill, not sucking air at the back getting help.
Frustration sets in. While my team finally finished ALL together, looking resplendant in our matching jerseys and smiling, I was secretly upset with myself. This was supposed to be the trend-setting ride, the ride that would get me back to form, and that still may happen after I recover -- but rides this length allow the brain some time to sort things out, and it's come to my attention that I'm just not ready for Tejas, coming up in 16 days. I will still go. I will still mount up on the bike, but I'm thinking of changing my ride classification - maybe to the 200 miler, or the 12 hour, maybe - MAYBE the 24 hour. But 500 miles is a big jump if 186 miles over TWO days is the longest I've ridden since June 2nd, and it sucked this badly. EVEN if I have the endurance bank in me still from the 600K, that's too big of a jump in mileage at the VERY least. Worst case, Ort will have extra crew. Best case, by some miracle, I will finish. But, it's likely that the aftermath of 500 miles in two days will put me off the bike for the rest of the year, *IF* I survive without an onveruse injury from the huge jump in mileage. I was kinda planning on time off the bike anyways for marathon training, which, yes, I'm still signed up for, but it does me no good if I'm off the bike due to injury again. I won't have time to recover, and that will equate to TWO goals getting flushed. Time has run out. Discretion is the better part of valor, Shakespeare wrote - discretion in this sense being the ability to make a sound decision, the right choices based on the situation at hand. I'm now torn between the tenacity of "just do it", and the reality of "you are not trained". Last year, as I limped around the start/finish area, feeling sorry for myself with my fresh achilles injury, I overheard one cyclist, whom had already finished the 500 miles and was showered and rested, mention that he'd ridden "only a double century" the previous weekend. THAT is training. I'm an idiot, I thought. I THOUGHT that I was ready LAST year, and I failed. Today, I *KNOW* I'm not ready THIS year... what the hell do I think I'm gonna do down there???
I'm sorry - this was supposed to be a light-hearted look at what was indeed a GREAT weekend on the bike, but the reality of my goals fading away is setting in, and a nice happy story just isn't in me right now. There were a lot of good memories this year, a lot of firsts for a lot of people, but I have to leave it to those people to tell their tales. I have a lot of self-analysis ahead, some pending emails to ride organizers, and some serious jump-start work to do if I'm going to do ANYTHING positive in 16 days. No, I'm not going to give up - I'm not simply going to say " yeah, that's what happened, so the year is over." I can do SOMETHING in 16 days, and hopefully it's the RIGHT sort of things -- this may not be quite over yet.
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned.
September 5, 2007
Song of the Week - 9/5
"Space Oddity" - David Bowie
When listened to from a bicycling perspective, replacing all the references to the space-ship with a bicycle, the song takes on a interesting flavor.
Maybe that and "Long Distance Run-around" by Yes
Good stuff in my head this week....
When listened to from a bicycling perspective, replacing all the references to the space-ship with a bicycle, the song takes on a interesting flavor.
Maybe that and "Long Distance Run-around" by Yes
Good stuff in my head this week....
September 1, 2007
Song of the Week: 9/1
Ok, I don't have any CLUE why this is in my head.
It's really bothering me that it's in there.
This is nuts.
Honestly.
"I'm gonna catch you" by The Laurie Berkner Band.
Lordy.
It's really bothering me that it's in there.
This is nuts.
Honestly.
"I'm gonna catch you" by The Laurie Berkner Band.
Lordy.
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