Chasing shadows?

Training.  It's a somewhat alien thing to me in practice, I have to admit.  I am starting once again to think about larger goals and with that comes the admission - like it or not - I'm going to have to train for those goals.  The slog of intervals, long indoor sessions between loads of laundry when there is snow on the ground, cross-training, carefully following the new dietary plan I'm now six weeks deep into, etcetera.  All the while, I have to come to grips with my tendency to go "all or nothing".  The same way it's personally hard to stomach missing a few days of commuting, I have to allow myself a few hiccups now and again.  Also important is staying injury-free.  Nothing sets plans adrift like an injury - so I have to remain vigilant with stretching and making smart choices.  I'm exhausted of worrying about things like "fit" and aches and pains... but the reason I do is because I still haven't figured out how to go through life without the bike underneath me - and being forced to figure out what that's like scares me.  Thankfully, those issues are fading.  Above all else -- patience.  Rest means rest, ride hard means ride hard... even if the results aren't immediately apparent.

 

I have spent the last few weeks stoking the mental fires with inspirational tales read from many other blogs, videos, documentaries - from Tejas 500 exploits to cross-state record attempts to P-B-P, to RAAM, to RAO, Furnace Creek, with a range including epic DNF stories as well as winner's tales; looking for patterns, tips, ideas, thought processes, catch phrases, and things to put way back in the subconscious to dig out later on - when times are low.  Among these is a recurring theme that shows my past approach to preparing for something like a 500-mile ultra:  I haven't done enough.  I see tales of riders "cooling down" before race-weekend with a 400km at a slow pace.  I see stories where riders head out for personal 24-hour runs to try and get 300+ miles with as few stops as possible, as check-points in a training season.  Sacrifice.  Things like my double MS-150 come to mind... overnight permanent rides... laps at Longview Lake at 3AM...  it's time to bust this stuff out again.  Showing up, paying the entry fee... sometimes that's the hard part:  committing... but I've done that before.  What I need to do differently is commit with both feet - jump all in... but, still, find that balance to ensure I stay sane... and that the steps on the way to the goal stay fun.

Commitment... no, I haven't committed yet.  I'm still leaving myself that "out" - but I have a loose timeline around that notion.  I know, personally, that if I haven't figured myself out by such-n-such date sometime in late spring 2012, then I'm simply not serious enough.  If some of those early training checkpoints reveal results that don't point towards a finish at the bigger goal, then I have the flexibility to push it out another year.  Progression.  Learn from the past. 

Interim goals are good for the big goal.  That was also a recurring theme in the stories I'd read.  This is also echoed from people I know personally that have tackled big rides successfully in the past.  Have "tiers" and extend them to training.  My secondary goal of achieving a 2nd RUSA R-12 is a good step.  Another interim goal of completing a full SR-series (200,300,400 & 600km rides in succession) is perfect.  The RUSA-oriented goals will help tremendously... but they "stop" around June and the big ride is in the fall.  Where I've fallen short in the past is filling that gap between early summer and "goal weekend".  Maybe trying to find a regional 12 or 24-hour race is a third interim goal, or keeping the R-12 streak going with longer permanents?  ... In any case, these "smaller" goals position myself for the bigger goal and provide a way to measure success if, for whatever reason, the big goal doesn't work out.  In this way, one can look at the whole year and NOT fall into depression if all the boxes aren't ticked.  Further, take that approach into the ride itself:  goal #1 = finish... #2... finish in less-than XX hours... #3... finish before someone else in my age group... whatever you like.  Even if I tank goals 2 and 3, the ride as a whole isn't a "failure".  Perspective.

The fun factor:  setting a goal to have fun is still a goal... slate-in fun, casual, recreational riding to force a slower pace and remind myself why I like riding to begin with.   This is easy... rides I'd normally do ANYway, but "use" them smartly to offset the tedium of "training".  Being serious about my goals for 2012 doesn't have to mean that I'm no longer having fun, or am no longer considered fun by others... not that I'm worried (ok, I kinda am), but I still don't want to take things SO seriously that I'm worried more about watts and weight than I am about friends and family.  Balance.

Technology... on the subject of watts, a lot of the stories I've read from winners of long events show a subtext of a strong, rigid training regime - complete with HR and power-based training goals, plus the expensive equipment to back them up.  I have to remember a few things:  what is MY goal?  Win?  Finish?  ... the latter, for sure.  I'm not certain I can keep things fun if I throw a lot of numbers into the game.  Hours at the computer, uploading data, comparing rides.  It's hard to hash out this thought process without flopping between "not wanting to really do the full effort" and still being "serious about my goals".  Will throwing a bunch of technology at my goals yield better results?   Better compared to what?  My gut tells me that training for efficiency, training to stay on the bike and moving, training to smile in the face of hardships, training for consistency, keeping myself healthy....  THESE things will ultimately yield a better event and a better me, rather than trying to measure and quantify every last detail.  Keeping it simple might entail just knowing how much nutrition I need per lap, remembering to hydrate - which are still things to consider seriously... but I think I have to draw the line on wondering how many watts I'm generating on that last roller after turn #3, for example.

Equipment matters... but it also doesn't matter:  another interesting theme, for every winner that crossed the line with top-dollar gear, power-measuring hubs and $1000 carbon disc wheels, there would be another winning story from someone that didn't mention equipment at ALL, wherein I'd come across a photo from the race and see them riding a bone-stock, middle-of-the-road bicycle.  This is important.  If I think for one second that my fenders are going to slow me down, I have to look at the rest of my training more closely.  I am not strong enough or fast enough to have the difference between finishing and not finishing be anywhere on the bike.  I'm reminding myself right here and now:  save the money, save the hassle, save the heartache... and just work harder.  Equipment that's worked for me in randonneuring works fine for whatever else I'm planning.  Sure... after 36 hours of riding those "fancy bits" might have put me ahead in my age group... but that's not the prime directive.  Run gear that supports a finish... and, conveniently, that's the kind of gear I already run today.

So, how does one become "serious" without being too "serious"???  Structured, but simple?

These are questions perhaps only I can answer.  Maybe the answers lie beyond 200km.  Maybe the answer is within the 200km... create the template, and run it - over and over - until you reach 500 miles... or 750 miles...

Above all else, though:  this time, don't be afraid to execute. 

An accomplished ultra-rider created a new ultra-cycling event for 2012 (Ultra Race News - Mt. Rushmore event) and summed it up best, indicating that a good, hard event will strip a rider to their absolute core, showing them themselves for what they are.  Maybe, at previous attempts, I was afraid of what I'd find... I think this time around, I'm more confident in the answer.

Clearly, I still have unfinished business... I'm not even sure if it has anything at all to do with the bicycle.  I still feel this unmistakable pull towards physical frontiers... distance, effort, suffering... and the smile that comes afterwards.  It's not about money, clearly... I've never won a dime riding a bike, and don't plan or expect to.  It's not about medals... they are merely "things", symbols of something I've never been able to describe about the rides themselves.  The Tejas 500 trophy... if that happens to be the goal I pick for next fall ...is also just a "thing", yes... but I want it because of what it might come to symbolize.  Partly, deep down, maybe the drive comes from not wanting there to be something out there that "beat me".  I will probably tackle the Knob Noster 200km permanent again even though I'd privately vowed that I would not, for this same reason.  Face the demons... remember my failure at the cave.... blah blah blah.  Maybe I'm making up for the things in life that DID beat me, things I can't go back and repeat.  Maybe I just like the challenge.  Maybe I don't know at all what the "why" is.  Maybe I am just chasing shadows.

Funny thing, though... this time, I feel like I'm catching up. 

Chasing Sunrise

Okay, enough twiddling about -- this marks the finish of the 4th RUSA randonee in as many months - so, officially, that's a "run".  1/3rd of the way to R-12 #2.

That makes it enough in the bank to provide motivation to get me through the traditionally tough months of November-February in the KC-Area.  Game on.

Woke up before my alarm, motivated, ready... ready to race against the sunrise to make sure I had as much time in the bank as possible before the promised NW winds turned the Border Patrol into a death-slog for the return trip.  After reading a lot of ultra-racing stories from a recently discovered blog I was mentally stoked with tales of "Scary Gary" and recent Nebraska cross-state records filling my head.  I'm not really sure what I expected of myself - but I wasn't going to dawdle much today if I could help it, at least not on the outbound leg.  After all - these rides are quickly becoming "training sessions", rather than THE events.  More on that later.

I rose to 57ºF on the thermometer, which isn't bad at all -- but, the northwest wind and the recent dry cold front that came with it created a downright chilly feel to the morning air, colder than last month's ride even with the rain being absent!  I ate, showered, and reshuffled my dressing scheme to compensate, figuring that I'd rather be comfortable early on and shed layers later.  This was a good move... I wouldn't actually feel motivated to remove the extra layers until I only had 22 miles remaining in the ride!

Today was mental -- I knew that the ride wouldn't really start until I was at the halfway point, looking back north.  I divided the course in half, and focused only on the first 67 miles that would take me to the turnaround.  At 4:01am, I shot back my usual pre-ride 5-Hour Energy, and headed south into the darkness.  The moon and Jupiter were paired up overhead, full and bright -- Orion was up also.  Jets passing overhead, and powerlines and signposts singing and clanging in the strong winds... which, for now, were helping me along.  I settled into a sustainable tempo and proceeded to hold it there - pausing to climb the Col Du Arboretum - for the next 25 miles, arriving at Louisburg at around 5:15am.  I took a little break here, as has become habit - refilled the one bottle I drained, a quick snack, and back at it.  As I have oft remembered too late, I was happy about my decision to don extra layers here despite the numbers on the thermometer.  The big hills south of town and the chilly downhills bottoming out at every creek crossing made it feel much colder than it really was, and I actually felt a mild shiver.

I am mentally reaching a good place with relation to distances on the bike -- I can't quite pinpoint the exact mental training I've been undergoing, but I can think about manageable sections of the routes, as well as the whole thing, and have a feeling of calm about it.  My hope is that this will translate when up against longer and longer rides next year.  Right now, however, my new approach has managed to "shorten" even the long slog of Metcalf from 199th to 359th from "22 freaking miles" to "only 22 miles"... if that makes sense.  Perhaps it's exposure, perhaps its just a mental trick -- but it's working well.  It's difficult to type this without sounding like I've lost my marbles... but even the Border Patrol route as a whole, now, seems "short".  Like I said, it's a good place to be before putting bigger brevets on the calendar - to get back to that point where you can actually be HAPPY when you mumble to yourself "only 100 miles to go..."

Not looking to wear myself out too much, but still trying to get to the halfway and start making tracks north before the strongest winds of the day came on was the primary goal.  Metcalf was over-with, and the highway section from 335th to 359th streets was checked off - afterwhich I stopped at the bottom of the exit ramp for a quick nature-break and a snack.  Making good time... Mounted back up, and proceeded to chip away at Jingo Road, marveled at the view of La Cygne power generation plant to the east, all lit up, and made it to K-152 in good time.  Big downhill... and checked in at La Cygne, KS at 6:52am... not bad... in fact, only 34 minutes shy of "beating the control opening".  Compared to brushes with control *closings* in the recent past, that'll do nicely!  I thank the tailwind... which, I was quite sure, would take a fair amount of that time back in the coming hours.  I would have been even earlier, but apparently the 7:00AM coal train was early today, so I ate part of my hourly rations while waiting for the train to clear the crossing.  I love trains, so it wasn't exactly a hardship having to witness a pre-dawn flyby.

More food, refills, restroom -- hydration going well -- and back on the bike.  

Thankfully, the sun was beginning to lighten the sky towards the horizon... a moment where I wished I had a good camera with panoramic ability...  the moon and Jupiter were still visible, but the way the light of dawn illuminated the scene was really cool.  Serene... Finally, on LN 1095, maybe 10 miles from the halfway point, the sun finally broke above the horizon.  Didn't quite make it to the halfway before dawn, but hey --- seeing the sunrise from the road, I'll take it any time.

Finally with the sun up, I could SEE things... including the remarkable fall colors of the hillsides surrounding the valley.  Reds, oranges, yellows... all afire in the early morning light and crystal clear air, and set against the brown and tan of the surrounding seas of crops.  Birds are singing, hawks are out for the morning hunt, an owl is heard, and a flurry of young deer gallop across the roadway only 1/8th of a mile ahead of me.  It's an awesome sight.. but I glance off to the right to make sure there isn't a buck gunning for me.  Apparently, word is getting out about cyclists and the deer are taking action.  At least in Africa they are... maybe the word isn't out stateside yet.  

I am treated to a "semi gravel" ride this time out, as Linn County seemingly is performing some road maintenance on 1095 lately.  In fact, it seems a lot of roads are benefiting from some much-needed maintenance this year, including 175th street closer to home.  Down here, however, the highway maintenance program seems more aligned with the "Texas approach", and the result is monster chip seal.  It's not the worst I've had - and with 28c tires, who's complaining? - but it was definitely gravel-esqe as a large majority of the aggregate hadn't settled in yet.  Interspersed were large sections of completely glassly and rubbery asphalt resurfacing, which was alarmingly smooth by comparison.  It was akin to riding in the rain and suddenly passing underneath a bridge or overpass, when the rain suddenly stops, but then picks up again on the other end.  Most of 1095 is like this now, but it's not bad riding.  

...Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To (Pleasanton-ia) with an achin'... in my heart.
Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
Took my chances on a (tourin' frame), never let them tell you that they're all the same.
The (sky was blue) and the (road) was grey; I wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today...

Later, after nearing the top of Paris Hill(ton) and passing the Linnville School site, a dog came tearing out of the woods and crossed the road in front of me, giving me a look that said "fear".  What the???  A dog running *from* a cyclist??  That's impossible... The only thing that would make a dog run from a cyclist is if there is something chasing the cyclist... or something back in those woods... IT'S GODZILLA!!  

I shift, and raise my pace...

More hills...more scenery... a nature break at the Mt. Carmel Cemetery gates, and then Flathead Pass (bonus points if you can figure out how I finally named this hill) reaching over the ridge and then dropping you down some perfect, new pavement as you approach Pleasanton, and the halfway point.  8:27am on the receipt, and comestibles.  

Brings me to... nutrition:

This year saw the return to more engineered nutrition on the bike.  It's a place I'd been before when consistent speed (as opposed to wicked fast racer speed, to be clear here) was more of a motivation for longer rides.  With my sights set on at least finishing another 600km brevet in 2012, I figured it was as good a time as any to examine a return to successful fueling strategies.  However, fuel on the bike is worthless unless you fuel correctly ALL the time.  Huh?

A little personal history, I've never been super healthy.  I like beer.  I like comfort food.  I like easy food.  I don't cook.  I'm also a vegetarian... but I'm probably the worst vegetarian you'll ever meet, in the sense that I'm not eating steamed vegetables and wheat-grass.  Where there are "steak and potatoes" folk, I simply just eat more potatoes.  With ketchup.  Added together, I don't eat well on OR off the bike.  

I've been doing some homework lately, specifically talking to a personal coach... now, now, now, hold on:  I'm not paying for this service.  My "service" comes from a friend at work that has competed professionally in the past in another, non-cycling, endeavor that taught her a lot about health, diet and training.  I'm taking this as un-cycling biased nutritional consultation.  We've discussed goals, methodology, and approach - and since the Monday after the "Mere Two-Hundred" ride, I've been following a fairly structured program that *seems* to be working.  Here's a general approach run-down:  85% of most everything is mental... and 15% physical.  Of that 15% physical, 85% is DIET, 10% is exercise, and 5% is genetics.  So, if you've been making excuses like *I* have, try eating better and see if the results change.  Give it a month.

To also be clear, this isn't "going on a diet" - this is diet in the strictest sense of "what you eat".  While portion control is important, too, this is more about fueling what you do - not about how much or little you should eat.  

The subject of protein came up.  Long story short (too late on THIS blog) I wasn't getting enough.  I bounced her information off of several endurance sports publications, and the general consensus was clear: no matter what scientific formula I applied, I was not getting enough protein.  Side effects?  Lethargy, fatigue, physical over-training issues, no performance gains, etc, etc, etc,... a laundry list of the kinds of issues that have plagued past distance rides.  I won't get all weird and preachy about this stuff -- but, I'm no longer going to half-(ahem) my approach to personal goals anymore, either.  Speed isn't everything - some of the best times I've had on a bike are when I wasn't worried about speed at all.  We've been over this.  Clearly though, the challenges I have nutritionally have translated into fatigue and slower progress at the end of long rides time and time again, and my goals haven't changed:  therefore, I have to change to meet my goals.  Even if I stop riding a bike I still need to treat my body better.

After three weeks of getting (though it was tough) the amount of protein I *should*, I have noticed a few things.  First: I dropped ten pounds.  Second: on hard days, I've managed to post near-record breaking commute times in the evening, into headwinds as opposed to breaking records only with a strong tailwind present.  Third: well, the third test was this ride.  So... back to it...

Nutrition on the road involved Hammer Perpetuem Solids, Hammer Gel packets, and two Honey Stinger Waffles (yum) that I was testing on this ride.  I noticed that I needed something in my gut every 30 minutes... the hunger I was feeling was real.  It never cascaded into a bonk, push was consistent - but I was compelled to listen to what my body wanted.  As a consequence, I went through my pocket rations faster than I'd wanted to -- but, thankfully, I'd packed more than enough.  At the controls, I "behaved" -- tried not to keep my feet on the ground more than 15 minutes a shot.  I don't think I took in enough non-pocket food to support the day - something I need to work on when in a hurry.  I tried not to just grab random junk food, but that led to not grabbing anything...which isn't good either.  Total control-grub ended up being a 1/2 can sized Pringles at Louisburg (when I really began to feel hungry), a single-pack of Fig Newtons and qt. of Gatorade at Pleasanton, and.... uh.... that's it.  

So, if I burned something on the order of 6,400 calories and took in (mathmathmath) 1,470 cals between pocket and controls... there's no way to completely replace everything you burn, that's impossible, and not even recommended...  but, I only took in an average of 147 calories per hour, then... and that's lower than I should be shooting for, technically.  It's a good enough reason to maybe stop into one of these cafe's that seem to keep opening up in these small towns... 

Crap, I said I wouldn't bore you with this... sorry! 

After leaving Pleasanton for the run back north, it was apparent almost immediately that the 17+ MPH average I built on the trip down was going to be destroyed in a matter of hours.  Passing the last of the trees lining the road leading out of town, I was treated to a full face of wind... and it was only to get stronger.  It wasn't even 9:00am yet... I was making good time... step on it.  I climbed up the back side of Flathead, made my way along Sugar Creek valley, just keeping my head low and moving my legs up and down.  

A few more hills, and a brief tailwind section to remind me how much fun I'd been having on the trip south, and I stopped for a quick nature break and photo on a short bridge.  

Somewhere on Linn CO. 1095 highway... pause.

I love the band of red in that hillside in the background.  Evidence here of the fresh chip-seal/tiny-gravel road surface, and you might notice the roadside foliage in the left of frame is a little "bent" in the breeze.  Windy...

It took longer to get back to La Cygne as expected - but not too bad.  Turning east, the brief taste of tailwind that would help get me back to Jingo Road was nice.  Checked in at 10:15am, card signed, receipt... and back at it.  Keep moving...  I soaked up the rest of the tailwind on K-152, climbed out of the valley, and hopped back onto Jingo Road.  Nine miles...

The Border Patrol is a very exposed route... there aren't many trees to block the wind on a day like this, so I decided to lie to myself.  "Nice tailwind today..." I actually muttered it aloud, as if it would sink in.  "Now you can make some steam..."  I tried to keep my cadence up, and enjoy the fruits of my manufactured "tailwind"...and by jove, it worked.  At least, it could have gone far worse.  I could have convinced myself that it was futility, and geared down... but I didn't.  I repeated; hydrate, fuel...pedal.  

I'm not sure I remember a time where I came off of Jingo Road quite so quickly...  unless there was a time warp.

The highway section was next, and I made quick work of it also... but, I finally paused at the Rutlader Wildlife area, just off the exit ramp, for another snack....

And if you think it wasn't windy, well... turn your speakers down:

After that video, I regretted the waffle... it was tasty, don't get me wrong... but I felt whipped for a bit.  Perhaps too much effort?  Perhaps it WAS the calories running low... who knows.  I still made it back to Louisburg in decent enough time, and paused to remove extra layers as the sun had finally warmed the air enough to my liking to shed them.  Packed up, snacked up, and ready... my old pal Metcalf awaited.  Why didn't I make this a free-route permanent, again?  

More brain-unplug riding here, I guess... before I knew it, I was back at 199th street and turning west.  The wind was there... but, I just worked through it.  Apparently my mental trick is shaping up to be simply this:  if I don't want to complain about it, I don't "record" it, either.  Pedal.  Drink.  Eat.  Repeat.  

...go that way, really fast...  if something gets in your way, turn.  

Antioch... 175th... a short rest at 175th and Murlen, where I just got overwhelmed with "whoa... tired...." and contemplated taking a nature break in front of about 15 houses.  I decided against it.  Three miles... you can hold it... (ugh). 

And... FINISHED.  

I knew the headwind would take a toll, but I'll take the result - a finishing average of 15.6 MPH, I can live with.  I held it in the 16's until just after Louisburg, but fatigue and that wind simply caught up.  I'm very pleased with this one.  It felt really good to get out, and despite a minor fit issue (which you are about to read about), I'm feeling pretty dialed-in.  

Pain?  The immediate ride-finish post prior to this one mentioned some pain immediately following the ride.  Ever since switching to the new shoes after the last 200km ride, I had a sneaking feeling this would come up.  There was a glimmer at the DSR ride, but I elected not to change anything before the big ride.  Cut to today, the pain is completely gone - less than 24-hours later - however, the fact that issues were there at all still indicates an issue.  If I'd had 200km TO GO at that point, that would have been bad.  

I set up the bike in the trainer and measurements confirmed the suspicion.  Not fresh, but it explained the pains.  Today, I feel GREAT.  A recovery session on the indoor trainer this AM seems to indicate that the problem is taken care of.  We shall see; with slow, easy commutes next week, stretching, and perhaps a 100km tune-up sometime before the NEXT 200km.  A lesson that when you change shoes (or ANY equipment), don't assume that you can eyeball it.  Set up the bike in the trainer and make sure.  I got lazy, basically.  The main goal here is just to keep things neutral.... I know I've mentioned this "fit" stuff a lot recently, but it never really comes up until a person rides LONG.  For most folks, none of this matters.  You can be "off" all over the place and never have a consequence... but slap 300 miles on it, and the millimeters make a difference.  Okay, enough of that issue.

HEAD-MUSIC....

For some reason today, I was stuck in the 60's and 70's;  

I haven't been listening to ANY of this stuff... but for some reason it all kept popping into my head, especially Led Zeppelin, which I haven't actively sought out in years.

She Came in Through the Bathroom Window - The Beatles

On Linn 1095, right at sunrise, something put all three of these song into my head in succession, and in this order.

I don't know what did that, but it happened.

What is and What Should Never Be - Led Zeppelin

Going to California - Led Zeppelin  (if there is a soundtrack to this ride, this is it.  It came into my head as soon as I saw the sun, and it captured the scene, perfectly.)

Ramble On - Led Zeppelin  (and this one, I sang out loud.  With the falling leaves, and the autumn moon... it was also, just, so, perfect.)

Moon Shadow - Cat Stevens

Sample in a Jar - Phish  (this snuck in, in the last 10 miles...at least getting my brain back into the '90s)

Thanks for reading... stay tuned... November oughta be interesting...

I rode the wrong way

Another successful "finish" for a RUSA 200+km ride... ya'll better ask me if I want paper, or plastic... 'cause this one is in the bag.  WHOO!

Unfortunately, it was not without some difficulty... normally a summer go-to route, the Border Patrol was on tap this time to keep me close to home.

It heads south, on the notion that normally in this area in summer you are nearly guaranteed a nice, strong south tailwind for the return trip.

Today, instead, it was a howling NW wind.  Wow.  Still, happy with my average, happy with my finishing time.

A little UN-happy with my small revisit to fit issues that showed up late in the ride, probably due to some needed tweaking on some new shoes I'd picked up.

Getting everything cleanly transferred from old-to-new shoes (ala cleat placement) apparently didn't go as well as I'd hoped - so we'll try and get things dialed back in before the next long ride.

Tends to happen - and any time you switch to new equipment it's always an unknown on the first long ride.

Won't take much.  I absolutely refuse to get all anal about it, as I have in the past.  Everything was perfect on last months ride -- I'm just off a hair somewhere. 

Speed and consistency are coming.

Diet is working.

Pain will pass, things heal.  

VERY pleased right now...

Stay tuned for the full post.

Dark Side Ride: New Roads... new horizons...

Ah... the Dark Side Ride...   Words don't do it... you HAVE to come out with us sometime.

 

First off, BIG thanks to Noah for starting the ball rolling on this one and throwing together a GREAT route.  Thank the Maker for flippin' PER-fect weather conditions.  Thanks to Our Lady of the Devine Mechanical for shielding us from any roadside dilemmas.  A great turnout for what was only the 2nd DSR of the year.... maybe the ONLY?  Ugh... working on that.  Life has been interesting, and even scheduling the longer daytime rides has been tough --- we'll do better.  As they say, with absence.... so was the case.  I don't think I stopped smiling the entire ride.

 

Thanks to all that came out -- a great crowd:  "Crowbar", Noah Hack-Master D, "Double-R", new-rider Steve, "Wildcat-Al", "Raleigh-Richard", and yours truly.

 

Did I say the weather was perfect?  :)

 

We meandered around Lake Lenexa, which caught me off-guard in the dark...  it was one of those moments where I knew the route, roughly, but wasn't really paying attention.  That's a good way to get lost, I suppose... but it also makes for little surprises here and there.  The stunning visual of clear, still water extending to eerie lights on the dam in the distance, the bright dot of Jupiter and the nearly-full moon in the sky above... sporadic clouds... and some late-night partiers down inside the park hootin' at us as we passed.  I called back with enthusiasm...

Roundabouts and hills came next ... good conversation... and then came 83rd Street.

 

The theme this time out was punching through the old "barrier" on 83rd Street, a section of road that I (and may of us) had never ridden before because of a non-motorized vehicle ban that had been put in place back in 1999.  I remember when the ban was posted - I'd only had a road bike for a couple months, so I'd never ridden on 83rd street.  Back in "they day" it was THE way to get to Lawrence on the usual weekend club rides.  I even have a book called "Cycling in Kansas City", a joint publication by leaders of the KCBC and JCBC, that heralded that route as one of the best rides in the area.  It's always interesting looking up once-popular routes in that book and realizing that a few of them were (until recently) actually illegal ... of course, that wasn't the case when it was published (1996?).  I actually had the old Lawrence route bookmarked with a post-it note that read, in black ink, "banned". 

 

I won't get into the details of the ban here, but it was curious, finally riding on 83rd.  I'm not sure what I expected - I had initial reactions about it, perhaps a little mental pretension that I'd built up about it... but afterwards, talking about it miles later at the scheduled rest-stop on the western edge of De Soto with Randy, he was right:  there's nothing unusual about that road.  I could see how a lot of poorly timed traffic and inattentive drivers could cause a problem, but then I did a quick mental inventory:  There's nothing that makes 83rd any different than any of the myriad Missouri or Kansas rural highways I've ridden over the past decade.  I'm happy the ban was lifted - make no mistake - and again, I won't labor over why it shouldn't have been banned, or what really caused it in the first place.  It's history now.  But there was this distinct feeling of "uh....okay....?"  I will say this:  even with the moon barely lighting the scene I was amazed how pretty the outlay is... descending off of a ridge into a wide valley with farm fields on either side, the road gently curving a bit and then straightening out to a nice climb.  Not bad.  Now that I know I have a choice, I will probably opt for the same old lower-traffic routes I've taken all along, a bit farther south... but, it IS nice to have the choice now, instead of wondering why we "can't".   

 

I'd never ridden on "old" 83rd street through downtown De Soto, either... nice Main street... vintage Ford service garage, a barber shop, firehouse... not bad at all...

 

Hilly.

 

Wildcat-Al and I took turns shaking things up on the many climbs here and there, with Steve and Richard joining in the mix as well.  I forgot on more than one occasion about the "social" aspect of the ride, guilty of running up the pace on the slightest incline when I'd catch Al or Steve in my peripheral vision.  I suppose that competitive fire is still lit, somewhere down in my gut.  Not all bad... but, I tell ya:  if nothing else, even though I was experiencing some calf tightness that had come on recently, it felt really good to stretch the legs a bit and spike the heart-rate.  I'd forgotten how much of a goat Wildcat is!  Makin' me work and stuff... whew!

 

On that note, in previous, recent posts I have made excuses/complained that there aren't any hills in southern Johnson County... and that may be true, save for one or two, when compared to the continuous rollers of the northland - but, WESTERN Johnson County has some hills.  I think from a "training" perspective, I've simply been pointing my bicycle the wrong direction.  95th Street, 127th Street... I'll be visiting you again, soon.

 

Chatted up randonneuring with Steve on Kill Creek Road, heading south -- he's a slender, bearded gent riding a stately black machine, a daily commuter - fresh from finishing the local MS-Ride with the Cutter's team... which is not an easy team to hang with:  strong riders, all, as I recall from years past.  Just coming off his longest-ever ride from that weekend, it was interesting hearing the beginnings of "what's the next frontier?".... it sounded familiar, from back in the day... that's how it starts!  It was fun talking up the long-distance stuff -- helps keep me motivated, and you never know who you might "talk into it".  RUSA needs riders... 

 

Later in the evening, after more and more hills, the "short" 30-miler started to feel long... Looking back at the course, it certainly wasn't flat... not even close... but it was a lot of fun!  We spun out the last half-dozen miles at a much more relaxed pace, enjoying the scenery, the stars, the lights in the distance, late-night downtempo chill from Noah's streaming audio panniers... and were soon back at the start line.  More good convo in the parking lot afterwards, and then I continued the theme with KRBZ FM's usual Saturday late-night programming of electronica as my soundtrack for the drive home.  Windows down, cruise control... check.

 

Whooooof.... I slept well, once I got home. 

 

I love these things - and while absence may indeed have led my heart down a wistful path of "why don't we do these more often??", I have good feelings about the 2012 season.  Stay tuned ... this is certainly not the last DSR.  There's always November... which, if it happens, might be a "first".

 

Thanks to everyone that came out, and thanks again to Noah for making it happen!

 

 

 

Dark Side Ride: October 8th!

Cross-posted from KC-Bike Commuting - check it... got lights?  got gear?  got dark?  go!

 

 

 

First: Go read this. Go now! I'll wait.

What are you still doing here? READ IT!

Done? Good.

Next: Bring your bike, your reflective gear, your das blinkenlights and your helmet to the Wendy's parking lot at Woodland and K-10 Highway. We roll at 9:00 PM sharp, so get there early enough to prepare. If any of you eastern/central Johnson County folks want to ride to the start with me, I'm departing from 87th and Monrovia (Lenexa PD / City Hall) at 8:15 PM.

We'll be celebrating the fall of one of the most infamous bicycle bans in the country by riding through the very stretch of road that's been off limits to us human-powered two-wheelers for the better part of a decade. The route itself is about 30 miles with a mile and a half of relatively tame gravel. With a rest stop somewhere along the way, expect to get back to Wendy's at around midnight, but it might be earlier, depending on the general pace of the group. Bring enough lights and batteries for 3 hours of riding.

This is a no-drop social ride with re-groups as frequently as they're needed to keep us all together. Some of us at the front and back of the pack will be in communication via two-way radio to facilitate this.

See you there!

 

 

Reflective gear doesn't matter?

Looking at my own visibility platform, as many times as I've wondered "is this overkill?", I invariably hear unfortunate news of a cyclist, bicycle-rider (yes, there's a difference), runner, or pedestrian killed or injured while out on the roads after sundown, or before sunrise... or even during the middle of the day.

This time of year the days are noticably beginning to shorten - but our work schedules do not change.  We still have to be to work at x:xx, and we leave at x:xx, the same as any day.  The weekend riding is still really good.  We rise at the same time as always for the group ride... but the sun is lower, or not up at all.  The extended shadows and reduced sun angle during the day also warrant some kind of "be seen" equipment, in my opinion.  What you ideally want to do is invoke a natural reaction from motorists.  How?

Reflective triangle:  a lot of companies still have these products mislabeled as a "yield symbol", which confuses and frustrates me:  An orange or yellow triangle affixed to the rear of anything moving on the roadway in the correct lane of traffic is the symbol for a SMV (slow moving vehicle).  Out in rural areas, where these triangles are attached to the back of any farm implement that ventures onto the road by law, it's simply second nature - and it's respected.  There is an instinctive motorist reaction to that particular symbol, and THAT is what you want to invoke.  A motorist reaction that keeps you safer.  Attach a clip with zip ties and fasten to the edge of your jersey's center back pocket, or use the taillight loop on your seat pack.  Weighs nothing.  Cheap. 

Reflective ankle bands:  one of the most immediate and effective driver-response reactions (from the small poll I performed here at work) that there is a human on a bicycle is the up-down motion of those old-school, amber-colored pedal reflectors we all had on bikes as kids.  Nothing gets attention faster, and nothing else on the road has this pattern or look to it.  It simply LEAPS out of the background on a dark roadway.  Unfortunately, most cyclists use some kind of clipless pedal system where these reflectors are absent and simply can't be retro-fitted without difficulty.  Reflective ankle bands or straps are cheap, stow easily, can be multi-tasked as pump straps or garmet bundlers on rear racks or backpacks during the day - and if you run NOTHING ELSE, they will at least give approaching drivers the reaction you want:  you're a human on a bicycle.  Weighs nothing.  Cheap.

Reflective vest:  a requirement as emergency equipment in your trunk in some European countries because of issues with accidents involving roadside automotive repairs.  Invoking a motorists response or reaction?  Police wear them while directing traffic.  Road crew workers wear them while wresting re-bar only inches from highway traffic.  Dock workers, warehouse workers... are you seeing a pattern here?  You should consider yourself no-less-at-risk while riding in traffic than any of these hard-working professionals that put their bodies in the way of large and/or fast-moving equipment every day.  It's not a personal shield - no - but thanks to strict government regulations regarding high-visibility safety equipment in the field, the same motorist reactions that immediately attach recognition to pedal reflectors moving up and down is beginning to form with reflective vests.  Take advantage of that!  Yes, vests weigh something... but not much - Tip: shop for a multi-tasker vest.  While I try to advocate vests are needed ANY time of year, the time of year when you really need a vest is also when it is generally cooler outside... and you need a windvest anyways, right?  They can be cheap - but there are deluxe models.

Federal vs. consumer reflective gear?  Unlike the DOT or SAE certifications for cars, or the ANSI or EU regs for safety gear, the CPSC regulations for bicycle reflectors and "sport garments" are ONLY a good start.  Now, that statement might matter if I saw any reflectors on any bikes at all, which I can't say that I normally do.  They're usually the first thing in the trash after arriving home from the bike store.  Common responses to all this include, "my jacket has reflective trim".  Sure... perhaps it does... but unless it's the minimum 1" to the ideal 2"-wide 3M reflective material you see on ANSI vests, it's simply not big enough to be effective at a distance.  You have to consider WHEN you want a motorist to see you, how fast they are approaching you, and how much time that affords them to make a decision about you.  Watch the video embedded in this post.  It's showing runners, but the message should be apparent.  From several hundred feet away that thin reflective piping or edging on your jersey pockets, or the laughable reflective logos under the jersey collar (where your body angle on a bicycle make them invisible anyways) are not enough.  Not even close. 

"But I have a good taillight..."  Again, it's a good start.  You need one, period.  Brand, price and model are completely un-important here.  No matter what you buy, and if you do NOTHING else this post suggests, check to ensure your taillight is properly aimed.  Modern LED taillights have been redesigned and tailored to have a good battery run-time, be small, and put out a lot of light.  Unfortunately, the technology that goes into some of these LEDs in order to get more light output is not electrical, it's optical.  Simply put, the LED itself is like a lens - or it's diffused or focused through a lens.  When you do this, the resulting light is very bright indeed, but it's FOCUSED into a narrow beam.  You want this beam to point at approaching motorists.  Try this test:  tonight, lean your bike against a parked car, neighborhood tree, fence, utility pole, whatever... turn on the taillight and walk away from and behind your bike out to about 1/8 mile.  Make sure you have a good, straight, clear view of your bike - and that you're on level ground with the bike.  If you can't do this at home, go to a big parking lot.  The brightest "lobe" of light from your taillight should be clearly visible and directly in your face.  This should continue, ideally, back to 1/4 mile, and 1/2 mile (assuming you can still see the bike and have the space to back up that far, of course).  Now, walk to one side, then the other until the light fades in intensity.  Some good taillights DON'T fade off-axis like this -- but others do, dramatically.  The same is true top-to-bottom.  If your taillight is aimed even a scant few degrees to one side or another, or aimed too high or too low, the light is not intense enough where you want it.  In some cases, it diminishes so much it might as well be switched off.  Take extra time to make sure your taillight is well secured, centered side-to-side along the long axis of the bike, and that the brightest beam of light is parallel to the surface of the road, and level.  If you can't do this with your existing mount, improvise or find a mount that WILL allow it.  Finally, NONE of this is a replacement for good reflective gear.  The taillight simply announces to approaching motorists that there is SOMETHING up ahead.  Reflective gear, in the beam of car headlights, is often BRIGHTER than your taillight (except in extreme cases with spendy taillights) when cars are within 500 feet.  Blinking vs. steady?  There is a lot written about this, so I won't get into it here - except to only say that I prefer "steady" mode for taillights, for many reasons.


ADDENDUM:  An important fact was brought up in the comments, so I felt it neccessary to add another paragraph or two to this post to ensure you get the message.  I made an audience assumption here on the notion that if you're commuting to work by bicycle or riding before/after sunlight you'd be running a headlight of some kind.  In addition to having a good, properly-aimed tail-light, having a good headlight is *essential*.  This is another area where brand and model are not as important as having SOMEthing, but there are points to consider:  

Be seen vs. see-with:  
Be-seen lights are generally too weak or diffuse to effectively see your path - but are very attention-getting if aimed level to the road and pointed ahead, or mounted on a helmet.  You need something that motorists can see from any forward approach angle, something that says "HEY!  I'm HERE!  Don't pull in front of me!"  There is a wide array of small blinky LED headlights on the market that easily attach to your handlebars.  Better still, attaching them to your helmet allows you to point the light where you need it, to make an after-dark repair, read a map, check the time, read roadsigns - or flash into an approaching driver's field of view to get their attention.

Lights that you can see with, as you might think, put a lot of light on the road surface so you can see your path and avoid obstacles.  Price IS a consideration here, as headlights can range from $24.99 up to nearly $1,500.00.  At lower price-points, the same optical focusing methods applied to make tail-lights brighter works on headlights to put more light on the road where you need it, which is great - but it is at the expense of "spill light".  The same off-axis problem is at play here:  as a rider, you end up with a focused beam of light that is lighting your path... but almost disappears if you are a few feet to one side or the other.  This is important to note, because as a rider you can get a false sense of "visibility" from these lights:  just because you can see the road, does not mean a car approaching from a side street can see you... and since their automobile headlight beams are NOT pointing at your reflective gear from this angle, you are invisible.  A "be seen" front light of some kind is still vitally important in this case.  If you can't afford a "see the road" light that provides BOTH a good view of your path AND effective "be seen" spill-light, you need to invest in and run both kinds.


Back to reflective vests, and some of the thinking surrounding them;  Now, I understand:   racers, enthusiasts -- the logo jerseys for your favorite team, favorite beer, favorite country, favorite state, epic ride you finished, almamater... I understand the pride and attraction of a good quality cycling jersey, especially an earned one... covering it up with a reflective vest seems like a waste - but the facts are simple:   Watch any video you like, look around when you're driving next weekend.  From a motorist's perspective, the busy patterns and muted colors often fade into the background "noise".  The post-accident phrases that motorists often mutter should be warning enough: 

..."I just didn't see him"...

..."she came out of nowhere"...

Don't even let it be a consideration.  No, it's not a guarantee.  If a motorist chooses to reply to a text message, in the rain, on a curve, on a blind hill, doing 15-over the posted limit; whether you're in head-to-toe reflective gear, or not, it's still a dice-roll.  This stuff isn't a shield... but, if that same motorist gets even the quickest flash of reflective light, even for a split second, it might be enough pause for them to wonder "whats up there?", and maybe they'll pay attention just long enough to miss you.  If the worst DOES happen and you're lying there in the ditch WITH a reflective vest on - let the police report show what the jury cannot possibly deny. YOU WERE VISIBLE.

ALL of this assumes that you are riding responsibly:  just like with a helmet, it's not a guarantee or a replacement for common sense, safe, smart riding.  Wearing a helmet doesn't give you license to ride dangerously because "you'll be okay" if something happens.  Reflective gear holds the same value.  It's not going to make you suddenly safer if you still decide to ride 15-abreast on a 2-lane highway.  Think about it, please.

No excuses.  Shop around.  For a total investment of less than $15.00 (Amazon, package, w/ shipping), there is simply no excuse I can possibly think of that you wouldn't put on a vest or ankle bands or both - day or night - to protect yourself.  Fashion?  You already look silly for wearing a helmet and riding a bicycle in the first place, right? - so get over it.  Neon yellow is the new black.  Wear it.  No, it's not a personal shield... but if you are someone's mom, dad, son, sister, cousin, friend, roommate, or arch-enemy.... don't you owe them an additional guarantee that you WILL be home?

And , no - I'm not above begging:

Please.  It MATTERS.  As the sun sets and the dimmer daylight of fall and winter comes on, please consider it.  Spend the $15.00.  You're worth it to SOMEONE. 

Be safe out there.

"I'm on a Road to Nowhere"

For a change of scenery this time, I turned my sights north.  North of the Missouri River, specifically - where things are "different".  Kansas City proper tended to grow south after its first century in existence and that's evident in the sprawl that eventually leaked over into Kansas and created the suburban paradise we enjoy today.  The northland has had improvements, too - yes - but some of the hillsides and vistas haven't changed much in 200 years.  Southern parts of the metro have seen farms and barns disappear, replaced by shopping complexes and housing developments - but up north, the farms still exist and thrive today.  The majority of improvements have been limited to the roadways;  the old section and farm roads were simply graveled-over, and then paved over.  Traffic has stayed light, and local -- so the roads themselves, though paved, haven't been "grade-reduced for safety", for example -- so, if there's a hill, you climb it on the same grade that nature used when it was installed.  It's hilly.  Quite hilly.

Contrast to Olathe and southern Johnson County... well, once you get far enough south of the river system, things are relatively flat.  There are bumps that most cyclists call "hills" simply because there isn't another name for them.  I live out where a lot of those hill-shaped obstacles are, and since moving here in 2005 - let's be plain - I've gotten soft.  I miss the days of living about 25 miles north of here.  I miss riding in Shawnee on a consistent basis.  There is no reason NOT to, but "the country" is so much easier to get to - as opposed to riding in traffic all the time, so when I ride I generally turn my sights south.  Excuses...  I've gotten soft.

Back in "the day", hill climbing was just simply the training that the Warbird and I did - over and over and over, because THAT's where we lived.  When we went up to Liberty for the first few big rides back in 2002, things were different - it was hard, but I think we were better prepared.  It wasn't about the hills so much as it was about the distance and the acclimation to extended saddle-time.  After years of riding where the hills aren't, I can really, really feel the effects of this last ride.  I think the estimates are conservative -- something on the order of 6,700+ ft. of climbing in 131 miles.  I think it's more than that.  The "issue" is that it's all in 1/2 miles long rollers -- just over and over and over.  (I love it, who am I kidding?)

There's people out there on their 4th R-12 reading this (maybe) thinking "gads, grow up."  I know, I know... it's just remarkable how one forgets certain terrain.  I mean, let's face it -- if I'm looking at a 1,200km ride in 2012, or a 48-hour race with a lot of climbing per lap, this is something I NEED to be doing... so, let's call this the "wake up call", shall we?  I'm well awake now!  This is what's been missing -- so, for some of my riding I'll probably turn my sights north now.

Still, it was a tough day for me.  

The ride report... in small, easy to chew mental hunks:

Summer is over.  JUST like that.  Wednesday last week it was in the mid-90's.  Thursday morning it was 47ºF.  Friday, steady rain in the forecast, no sun, and wind.  Compared to riding in 100F+ heat only a month before on the last 200km ride, this was going to be interesting.  The old adage:  pack everything.  The monster duffel bag is out of storage again!

We like wool.  Easing the blow was the notion that I also got to unwrap all the late-season wool stuff again.  It's a treat to wear on days where you're looking at 50's and rain, so I layered up - conservatively, so as not to overheat.  With this stuff, you don't need a rain jacket .. but for some reason I packed it anyways.  

The alarm bell rang at 3:00AM.  Gads... the ride didn't start until 5:00AM, but I had almost an hour drive ahead of me to get to the start location on time.  I instantly regretted planning a ride so far away from home and wondered if it'd been better to have driven in the night before and camped in the van with a sleeping bag.  The ride that has its first control only a mile from my house looked really good... because I could've slept for another hour.  Drag outta bed... crawl to the kitchen... liquid breakfast of Carboplex and Hammer Gel, hot shower, dressed, and off I went.  Yawning... a lot... as I drove.

I hit the parking lot at a smidge before 4:00am.... and the restaurant that was supposedly 24-hours was closed.  Grrrrf... so much for a hot breakfast send-off like I'd planned... 45ºF on the bank clock across the way, and almost a full flag of wind blowing across the parking lot.  Yikes... it's still supposed to be warm, right??  It's not October yet.... c'mon.  Mental... ignore it... I dozed off.... SNAP!  whoa... don't do that!  It's 4:15.... I doze off again... 4:19....   This repeats almost every 3-4 minutes until 4:50am, and with each alarming self-wakeup I notch the thermostat on the dashboard a little closer to the hot side.  A mild shiver.  What the heck?... chilly...  ugh.

5:00am... the restaurant doesn't open until 6:00am, so even starting late and using the first "gimme" hour (not recommended) to eat something hot wasn't in the cards.  I drive across the way to a just-opened C-Store (for some reason completely missing the freshly relocated 24-hour super-grocery behind me, which I noticed later in the afternoon!) grab a couple things, and get a receipt for 5:06am... close enough.  I park, unpack the bike, and proceed to forget everything in succession.  This starts a cycle of "shut van door, pack keys in seatbag, mount bike, remember something, dismount, unpack keys, unlock, grab "forgotten thing", re-lock van, pack keys, remount, roll five feet, remember something else, roll back, unpack keys...." for about five things:   my helmet, then my gloves that I left on the seat of the van after getting helmet, then the cue sheet, then my phone, and finally remembering all of my back-pocket bonk-rations for the day.  So used to getting ready in the garage and RIDING to the start, I'm completely befuddled by the cold, the dark, the new location... it's like I've never done this before, and thankfully I managed to remember EVERYthing within a few yards of the van at most, instead of at some unfamiliar turn 15 miles away.  The guys smoking by the dumpster waiting for their boss to unlock the back door of the restaurant must have gotten a kick out of that scene.  It was now 5:30am.... for cryin' out loud, let's ROLL already!!

Frustrated... tense... annoyed, even though it was all resolved... still yawning... and cold.   Good way to start a ride. 

Pedal... pedal... pedal.... holy crap?   The first few turns don't even require a cue sheet, I'm so familiar.  I can navigate Liberty, MO. by bicycle blindfolded -- but, I don't remember this hill... do I?  Good lord...  Yep, right road... houses look familiar... dude.  I stand up on the pedals.

That notion would continue for a few dozen miles as I re-familiarized myself with the topography.  I passed under I-35, and out of the eerie pinkish/orange vapor-lamp glow of the last streetlight within the city limits.... Plattsburg Road.  Now at least I couldn't see the hills coming. 

Good things about hills in succession... just exercise the zipper of your wind-vest; up... then down.... opposite to the grade at hand... and the chills of the early fall snap disappear.  Precious body heat to the rescue!  And, a bit of a rhythm develops... time to shake the cobwebs out of these legs and remind them where the work is done.  Oh, and drink... hydration went well this summer... but I remind myself to keep it up, even though it's not hot.  Easy to forget.

Drip... drip....drip.....   the first couple rain drops hit my face.... here we go.  Not even an hour in... 

Upon reaching the intersection of Plattsburg Road and Route C, I stop for a snack.  I keep walking the line between minimalist, and having some sort of handlebar bag mounted.  Today, where it would have made a lot of sense, I didn't have it mounted.  Buried under two layers, and fingers rendered clumsy by thick wool fingers, I found myself stopping to eat my 'tween-control rations.  I suppose that's okay -- stop, look around, rest a minute.  The standing-time adds up, though, and makes for a long day.  I fight mentally with the whole "eat on the move" philosophy versus the "smell the roses" philosophy... but the increasing rain reminds me I have larger concerns ahead.  The wool is working, and I have a tailwind for the moment - the stowed rain jacket stays put and I rely on the raised collar of my wind vest, and my new RUSA-logo'ed EU-compliant and P-B-P legal reflective vest.  Fifteen miles in, the sun has apparently come up because the sky has lightened, and nine-to-go until the first control in Plattsburg, MO.  Roll.

Highway C is quiet today... the notion that weekend traffic will be lighter is once-again dispelled.  On this Friday morning, the 'rush-hour' traffic will probably stay on the main highways and I'll be able to ride in the clear.  Here's hoping... this nine-mile stretch sticks in my memory as a pretty busy road.  Today the road is largely empty.  That's nice.

The rain is steady, and I slowly become soaked.  Upon cresting a couple hills, I can see my breath as vapor in the cooling air.  It lifts a little at Plattsburg, so I can do my control routine in the dry, which was welcome.  Stopping after being wet, though, leads to shivers.  Going to be a long day.  housekeeping attended to, I'm back on the bike and headed north - out of town.  Out of town of any kind for a while...

I had forgotten how empty things become north of Plattsburg, MO.  Before long, there are no cars, no signs of life - save for the occasional darting dog, but that even only happens twice in 15 miles.  The rain is constant now... not showing signs of slowing, no clearing in the distance -- just an endless sea of grey.  The only glimmers of color that remind me it's still "summer" come from wildflowers soaking up the rain on the roadsides.  There is a bird or two that sings out... it's not all bad out here.  Memories of harder times up this way dart in and out of my thoughts.  Memories of good times and good friends sharing those times up this way add to the interplay of brain waves, mixed with a constant din of music played from my internal storage.  The playlist is especially long today - an indication of how much I'm trying not to think too hard about what I'm doing out here.

Highway NN... and uncharted territory:  I stop here for another face-feed stop, trying to open a zip-top bag with wet woolen fingers proves mildly comical.  A few snacks... I consider donning the rain jacket, but am already too wet to have it make much difference.  "Nah."

A passing car makes a left turn towards town, the passenger gawking out the window - either in personal disbelief, or confirmation of my idiocy.  

I blurt out something from Monty Python, and aim my bike west towards ... well... nothing. 

The hills on highway NN are remarkable. 

I am treated to several historic cemeteries, some old farmhouses, and an old truss bridge that is slated for Missouri's "Safe and Sound" bridge rehab program next year... might be the first and last time I see that old steel-work on this route. 

"...what a drag, these hills are gettin' old...." to the tune of the 'Stones classic Mother's Little Helper.

I check off landmarks... highway K.... highway VV, with a laugh  (lots of letters at this intersection.... NN, VV, K, O, arrows pointing everywhere)

Right about the time I start playing the "I know I haven't made any turns but am I on the right road anymore??" game, the road comes to a T, and the correct turn awaits.  (whew)   .... the rain, having increased from "hmm" to "whoa" in the last hour, does not make happy-fun-time for bonus mileage.

After finally deciding (as if it would make a difference) to don the rain jacket, having another snack and generally considering my situation, I mount up for the journey north on Highway 31 towards Easton, MO. -- I catch a smell, a good one, as I pass through town - like a barbecue joint or something... but I don't see a storefront to match.  Roll on...

More hills.  Less stuff.  Another thing I forget about these northland rides is the scarcity of services between controls.  Unlike another couple routes I frequent where you're nearly guaranteed resupply of some kind every 20 miles (something I've gotten used to), this stretch was going to approach double that before I'd have a chance to get out of this rain.  That started playing on me at the intersection of US-36, where I'd make a decision.

The first of many decisions.  Let's see... turning around now would net me a century, right?  I haven't committed to anything, right?  Ugh... it's NOT that bad out here, dude... hang in.  Eat something.  Drink something.  Legs?  Still attached.  Sore... Stomach happy.  Brain weary.  The hanging mist from the truck traffic flying by in the heavy rain, my foggy glasses, all stood to represent the noise in my head --- "this is nuts," I muttered aloud, chewing on a block of something or other.  "suicidal..."   Carefully, I cross the four lanes of the highway to the opposite side... "there's gotta be a better way..."  (there isn't)... at least there is a shoulder.  Ugh... I swallow hard, take a drink, turn on the backup taillight to double my candlepower to traffic, and mount up.  It's only 2 miles... there's a good shoulder.... it's downhill for a bit... a slight gap in approaching traffic... hit it!

Hoping that my visibility would be in good standing on such a day, it frustrates me to no-end that people still drive their cars in the rain without turning on their headlights.  Wipers on?  Lights on!   C'mon, people, I'm wearing an awesome vest for ya here!

The only place on the road where shoulder disappears... reminds me of OK-51 on the old Tinbutt route in Stillwater, OK. ...is where the road crosses a branch of the Platte River.  Not looking forward to riding in the lane on a major US-highway in heavy rain, I check my six for traffic -- I've got JUST enough time... SPRINT!!!  Safely back on the shoulder again after the long bridge, traffic roars past in a cloud of mist again...  whew.

The hills on highway Z are remarkable.

More mental music... I play the "maybe the wind is dying and I won't have a headwind for the return" game. 

I also play the "maybe the rain is letting up" game, and laugh when it actually starts to fall harder.  Could be worse....  more food, more drink.  Don't leave anything on the bike this time -- the forty-mile jaunt is taking a while with all my roadside breaks, and this is no time to run short of hydration or calories.

The road twists and turns...  more mental games:  there are no paved options, I haven't made any turns, haven't seen many intersections... but, for some reason on a brand-new-to-me route it's difficult to avoid that sudden rush of anxiety that comes with the realization that Missouri doesn't like to spend money on road signs.  Uhhhh..... where the heck is the next road?   Cue sheet... trip computer.... I shouldn't be there yet, oh THERE it is! 

Cosby, MO...  nice little town, and look - there's a neat old bell in front of that chur... POTHOLE!!!!!!   (bunnyhop)  The adrenaline rush takes me over the cool old Platte River bridge, and the next 4 hills. 

Stop raining...

(make me)

The last couple hills are teasing me... never gonna get there.... never gonna.... EUREKA! 

The Avenue City store, and it looks like I made it to the control still in sight of the lead group.  Two bikes are leaned against the building, taillights still flashing into the grey rain... and then I remember that I'm out here alone, and must be hallucinating.  I'm not, though ... the bikes are real:  a Raleigh M300 and a very nice Rodriguez touring model.  There are panniers everywhere, and inside are their owners enjoying the same respite from the rain that I seek.  As if there weren't enough walls of delineation between people as it is, the scene was a perfect tutorial on how to tell a randonneur from a tourist.  I was on target to get about the same amount of mileage today as they were, but I had barely anything with me.  Of course, they were coming across the country from Seattle!  We chatted for a bit while they wrapped things in the plastic trash bags they'd purchased, and I ordered a sandwich and settled in for a drying-out period.  This would be one of the longest control stops I'd ever logged.  I rolled wool gloves into newspaper, hung up layers over various air-vents near the bottoms of pop machines and coolers, and tried to fight the urge to sit down.  I figured as long as I was standing up, I wasn't quitting.  Halfway --- all I have to do is get back on the bike and pedal towards home.  I ate chips, drank hot coffee, ate a great sandwich, drank water - and finally, after almost an hour, started packing up for the return leg. 

Drying things out was only a mental maneuver.  The rain continued - but the layers closest to my body, under the rain jacket, were now warmer and drier than they were when I'd arrived. 

The return trip seemed to take forever... more of the same as the outbound, but more dream-like.  I don't know if the effort of the day was checking me out, or if the rain and the grey was playing tricks on my psyche... but I caught myself "waking up" after certain sections of road.  Never in peril - never startled awake by traffic or similar (thankfully), and truthfully and to be clear - never actually "eyes closed asleep"... but certainly daydreaming, and definitely unplugged for sections of the return ride.  I suppose this is a special place if you can manage it safely -- the miles are no longer occupying, discouraging, or daunting.. you just pedal, and eventually arrive.  I knew upon departure from Avenue City that I had until 5:30pm to make the last control, just under 40 miles away - so, for once, I took the computer's display off of "time", and onto distance only - just to mark the turns and show progress.  The clock no longer mattered.  Just ride.  Honestly, I'm lucky I didn't pass any turns - so much of the ride was heads down, I kept noticing things on the return legs that I simply hadn't seen on the way out... and therefore kept getting caught wondering if I'd passed a key turn.

Thankfully, no bonus miles!

I stopped a lot on the return leg, too.  Hydration was on-par, because a lot of breaks became nature breaks, too.  I'd eat, look around, marvel at the views... and the silence.  It was eerily quiet.  Occasionally, I'd hear a large farm implement or a big door close, perhaps a shotgun blast or similar (hunters?) way off in the distance, but little else.  Hey, wait, the rain stopped... cool...  when did that happen??  A car approaches, and stops - an older lady asking for directions.  We chat for a bit, and she drives away.  At least, I'm fairly certain I didn't imagine that part.

I stop again at NN and Y for a snack.  Having stared at the road for so long on this heads-down, grey, rainy ride - I notice a strange optical illusion occurring when I stare up at the clouds and their features... which appear to be racing away from me towards a central vanishing point, no matter which direction I look.  The air has weight to it, the silence feels thick... but open... the noises I'm making, like simply zipping up a jacket, seem so LOUD.  ...the dream state continues.  I have half-a-mind to check the ingredients list on my back pocket snacks... such strange goings-on!

I quietly slip past houses, farms, and gravel side-roads, inching towards Plattsburg once again, nearly seven hours after I'd left it that morning.  My rolling time was respectable - despite the rain and hills and slight headwind on the return I was still averaging 16 miles per hour rolling, but only just - but, my total time was adding up.  Never in danger of missing a control closure, but definitely taking the "tourists" approach to the ride today.  I hit Plattsburg and ducked inside to warm up and eat.

I spent a little time here, too, chatting with the locals behind the counter - or at least eavesdropping - and with an older gent that stopped in for a cup of coffee.  I ate, warmed up, hydrated, and tried to get my mental game up for the last 25 miles of the ride.  Once there.... and after realizing that I'd spent a simply GUILTY amount of time at the control (not as bad as at the halfway, though), it was time to go.  The amazing thing... 20-30 minutes of trying to build up the mental stockade was erased, utterly destroyed, in about 500 yards.  I came around the bend, felt the wind and the first few drops of new rain, and my heart sank.

Strangely and atypically, I allowed myself only a couple seconds of this pity party.  Internally, I told myself something to the equivalent of "shut up and ride", and did just that.  I got after it a little, instead.  Nothing earth-shattering or record-breaking, but I did work.  I started checking things off, and the usual suffer-fest that is highway C on the return route was done in good time.  Next up, Plattsburg Road.  15 miles of "I don't remember ANY of this" on tap.  The Liberty route that comes and goes via this remarkable road always makes me chuckle a little.  Every single hill seems different, a surprise, where's this come from?, etc.  Even on this umpteenth visit, it's remarkable.

Big ring fever strikes... I attack climbs instead of limp them.  I don't know where it's coming from, but it's there.  I channel good-ole 'Ort', from the '05 season... when you're tired of riding, just ride faster... Never made sense until now, and today the reserve tank would be squeezed dry from the effort.  In the last 10 miles of the 131 total I logged, I made up a couple tenths of MPH average.  I'm happy... but, I'm sore, and I pulled the threads out of one of my cleat bolts.  Oh well.

Cold, wet, exhausted -- I'm finally back at the van, back at the restaurant.  

Check, please.  

This was good training... and I'm looking forward to injecting more hills into my regular riding.  I'm happy with the average, happy with my clothing and food choices - perhaps the only criticism I'd give myself is spending too much time NOT moving... but I'm not certain I care there.  Even with the extended stops, this was certainly not my slowest overall time on a ride of this distance.  I'm already exceeding personal expectations compared to the 2008 run in that regard, so if I have a little fun and slack off at a control (especially when riding solo), so be it.  

Notes for next time I need to get that handlebar "feedbag" mounted up again.  The thick gloves, multiple layers, and rain made it risky to try and fish for food from the pockets as I rolled - too risky to fumble something else, like a cue sheet or phone, in the process.  So, we'll make that happen.    

Overall, a good finish ... but MAN... earned.  I'm beat.  

Songs in my head:

I don't wear headphones or earbuds while riding - I try to keep the mind open to frolic.  Just from exposure to the music l normally listen to, it's interesting what sneaks into my head when the music is actually turned off.

Some of these I heard last week, some I haven't listened to in years. 

Somehow, climbing a hill or just staring at the road, they pop in there.

I try to find good quality official videos - but often fail; where that happens I try to make sure the track is at least intact.

Enjoy:

uh, zoom zip - Soul Coughing   (highway double-N became "double-M", which is a lyric from this song)

Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win - Beastie Boys feat. Santigold

Smoke and Ashes - Tracie Chapman

Go it Alone - Beck

Enjoy the Ride - Morcheeba (yes, again)

My Mathematical Mind - Spoon

Mother's Little Helper - The Rolling Stones  (it is indeed a drag, gettin' old.)

Road to Nowhere - Talking Heads 

Thanks for reading... stay tuned...

The usual process

Happy to report that I've finished "a mere two-hundred" - a new route for me, not in completely unfamiliar territory but some territory I hadn't ridden over in a while.

This is the third month in a row that I've managed to get in a randonnee in excess of 200km, so I'm pretty close to calling this a "run" towards another R-12- although I'd really like to get October out of the way before I commit.  I'm certain the next few months are not going to be as easy as 2008's run.

Friday's ride was quick training towards those harder months, however.  Where the July and August editions proved good tests of heat tolerance during this year's especially hot summer, September's ride brought the first indications of fall.  After a last dance with the mid-90's(F), a dramatic temperature shift swung through that had everyone talking at work on Thursday - and eventually came a steady rain that has hung on even today as I type this on Sunday evening, a rain that tested local Mid-America Chapter MS-Society riders as they took off for varying distances converging on Lawrence, KS. this same weekend.  

As I step through the usual process of organizing thoughts I'm already looking towards the next ride.  Things are going well - but I'm sore.  More on that later - stay tuned for the ride report from this remarkable 212km adventure.

It's all downhill from here

...a common phrase muttered often during the latter part of nearly ANY ride of length you might attend.

 

Seasonally, however, I'm not so sure that's a good thing!  Granted, after this summer's bonafide heat wave the recent cool-down is greatly appreciated - make no mistake about that.  Quickly rifling through the "warmers" bin in the back of the cycling closet, though, it was clear that the acclimation to summer heat was pretty intense this year because even the lower 60's suddenly felt frigid.  No doubt, those are temperatures that we'll all sorely miss in a few weeks time.  Pretty soon, it will simply be the new "normal".

 

For this weekend, I wish well all of the riders taking part in the local MS-Ride.  I'll be with you in spirit, for sure!  Ride safe, stay dry and warm, and eat lots!

 

For me, I'll be getting a miniature taste - about 60 miles short in total of the MS Ride weekend - by riding my September-edition randonnee up north of Liberty, MO.  Wool is dusted off, the bike and the body are ready, and I will spend the day "riding to eat" - as Danny C. would say.  I'll have some tea bags in the back pockets to warm the soul between rainy legs of the ride, hot sandwiches await at the halfway, and I'll be putting a good dent in the vinyl of the back-corner booth at the start/finish restaurant when I return, attacking some hot food to cap off what looks to be a grey and damp (and slightly early) introduction to this year's fall cycling season. 

 

Tip of the cap to everyone still out there commuting, randonneuring, bike-camping, touring, and racing!

Temperature-wise, it may well be "all downhill" from here... but that doesn't necessarily have to signal the end of this year's riding.

Grab a tent, grab a sweater, grab the 'cross bike, grab some mileage.

 

Ride on....

 

 

 

The first tastes

Fall.  The Cyclists' Season.

That first downhill, on that first commute to work after Labor Day weekend.

That very first chill of morning temperatures below 50F degrees.

No arm or leg warmers yet... but you begin to remember where you last put them, back in March.

The first hint of dryness to the air... the Kansas humidity finally pushed well south by the first north winds.

The smells... ambiguous, but enough to stir memories.  Colorado...  or Michigan... Octoberfest beers... bikes...

Gravel roads call, hot cider, the feel of wool between your fingers, the crunch of fallen leaves under tires.

 

It's all coming, so soon...

It's still summer... but only a few weeks left.

I can taste it in the air.