Welp, it's almost here.
In 50 hours or so, I'll be lining up for the Kansas City 600K.
I'm desperately excited, as I just got news yesterday that Ort down in Texas completed his 600K last weekend, and had a decent time of things despite a couple of flats near the end of the ride.
I'm stoked --- when you hear of successes near your home camp, it's inspiring.
It's not like "hell, if THAT tosser can do it....", it's just bolstering in a way. Hard to explain, but it's a good feeling knowing that the year is turning out so good for those of us that had so many challenges last year.
In a few days, it'll be my turn to keep that vibe by completing my first 600K.
Am I nervous anymore? Not really. Of course, complete complacency is dangerous. I have done all the equipment checks, the new taillights are installed, fresh batteries everywhere, fresh bulbs in the headlights, saddlebag will be packed tonite with the neccessary gear to handle the 62-85 degree temperature swings fron day to night, and possible rain that's popped into the forecast. It's kind of exciting for me because nothing quite beats riding into a thunderstorm, assuming it's not severe. And assuming you're prepared. All I have left to do it swap on a new rear tire and touch-up the chain lube, and I'll be ready to roll out Friday night.
So, nervous? No. Careful? Always!
The only thing that's really changed in my game plan is the notion about riding straight through. I don't think I'm going to be too hard-set on that notion after reading Ort's accounts. It seemed that he ended up catching people that had decided to NOT stop for rest when he woke up from his 3 hour nap and started riding again. Since it's six-of-one (whatever), I think I'll take a nap in there somewhere for god measure. Part of me REALLY wanted to treat this like a 24-hour race, since essentially that's what I'm training for -- but I'm not sure I've got the speed base built up yet for that kinda of torture. The best plan I can have is almost not to have one -- just ride and see how I feel after the sun goes down, after who-knows how far I will have ridden. But, it's a good course, I know it well, and the end of the ride is all on home turf. Let's get this thing over with!!!
The full - and probably lengthy - ride report will be coming about a week after the completion of the ride, but I will update on June 4th indicating whether or not I'm still alive! :) Stay tuned!
May 30, 2007
May 16, 2007
PART 2: Getting the steed ready for the big'un.
It's amazing to me, I do this EVERY time, and THis year really is different because I caught myself before it got bad.
The 600K is a huge deal. People don't realize that. Thoughts of someone being "crazy" for riding X-number of miles were tossed out the window at the 300K level. Most recreational cyclists and tourists can ride a century plus, so a 200K is not out of the question -- yeah, it's a long ride, but I think 90% of people on bicycles TODAY could do it. The 300K, people start questioning things - and the notion of riding almost TWO centuries starts to weed out the crazies. By the time we get to 400K, there's very few of us left over. In a typical year, you can have almost 30-40 people show up for a 200K, then 15-20 for the 300K, and then maybe 10 for the 400K. Needless to say, the numbers for the 600K are usually smaller.
Now, this is a Paris year, so the numbers will be higher than usual - but still, the 600K is huge. It's a HUGE deal. It's THREE 200K's. It's nearly 400 miles. It's big, and most things that I've read all agree that your FIRST completion of a 600K can actually be a life-changing event. It's that hard.
So, am I nervous? You bet! Not like in year's past, certainly, however - I have a lot more control over my training than I've practiced in the past, and I have felt better at the end of each brevet - probably moreso than I have in years past. But, that big BIG ride is coming, and in typical fashion I start to think.
Thinking turns into TOO much thinking. And too much thinking can be dangerous. This is the kind of thinking that has brought me to completely restructuring my bicycle stable, completely re-doing drivetrains the week before, and packing and re-packing everything I own, running from over-prepared, to far-too-minimalist.
I've had real issues with this in the past. This year, again, is markedly different - as this behavior started up again with regards to the 600K, I actually have JUST -- as of yesterday afternoon -- taken a huge step back, and stopped myself.
The process started after the 400K wrapped up, with the saddlebag issues.
After going thru the whole thing with ordering up a new rack and such to get the saddlebag repositioned, it did not turn out the way I liked. Not even close - and it was a lot of added complication to accomplish the same end result. Yes, the saddelbag WAS rubbing me raw at the end of the 400K, so a fix WAS needed -- but I took it way too extreme. Keep it simple! After all that monkeying around, I have removed that fancy new rack and put the Carradice SQR system BACK on the bike, with some minor changes: Namely, I put the steel rack portion of the assembly into my bench vise and gave it some careful bending. Solid steel is very forgiving in this way, much like cold-setting a frame to take a wider rear wheel. But, one does have to use caution and make small movements, which I did. Afterwards, the saddlebag is now about an inch farther away from the back edge of the saddle than it was previously - and a test ride around the block confirms that there is now no contact that will cause abrasion. Problem solved. Unfortunately, now I have a nice new rack that I don't need: thank goodness for swap meets.
so, why go back? Well, after I'd just got done saying (justifying) that I never used the quick release feature while ON brevet, it's infinitely handy when transporting a bike TO a brevet. All of the stuff I need for the ride is pre-packed in the bag, and the bag is off the bike in the car itself, which prevents a lot of problems. Further, while I never have before removed the bag during a ride before, there is the issue of changing clothes. Spending a full day in the same pair of shorts is inadvisable, unless you enjoy saddle sores -- so changing clothes at the halfway of a 400K is a practice I've gotten into over the past few years, and the 600K might even have three changes. The best, easiest way to do this: simply remove the bag from the bike, which has everything in it, and take it right into the restroom at the c-store, instead of gathering a handful of stuff in the parking lot and walking in with it - which is what I've been doing in the past. Ointments, sunscreen, etc., are already in the bag -- why not just take it ALL inside? The SQR makes sense on brevets as well as commutes, and actually it's MORE solid than the rack system I tried for a week - sway is nill, and the bag is held solidly in place on climbs. The notion that the fixed rack would be more secure didn't prove to be true -- with a rack trunk, perhaps, but not with a transverse saddlebag. And with the SQR's 10kg weight limit, there is no penalty whatsoever. Even with the bag stuffed to the gills I seldom approach even half that weight. There is no silver bullet, and if something happens durign the 600K I will simply have to adapt. Even on the 400K, as annoying and painful as those abrasions were starting to feel, pain like that is temporary. It's not worth a DNF.
One quote that I recently read is something I'll carry with me now on all my long rides:
"If whatever hurts will heal in two weeks, keep riding."
-Lon Haldeman (paraphrased)
Also as alluded to in the previous post, the handlebar bag is gone, and instantly the bike feels a little more agile. Considering I was carrying less inside it than it weighed itself, the gains are substantial. It was a neat item, but again it will probably make its way to a swap meet this fall. Keeping it simple is key, and if I have three back pockets, I should use them. It's that simple. I have in the past, so shall I here on out. There is a difference between "touring" and "randonnuering", after all, and I was letting myself get off-base again.
While one can't be too much of a minimalist, this is hard-charging timed riding, and the bike should be as agile and light as possible, without sacrificing preparedness or strength. After 300 miles, I was really not going to want that big box in front of me anymore.
The bike now looks as it did before the 400K - purposeful, and ready. Trim, but not super-light or racey. Efficient. The little stem-mounted, zip-tied binder-clip is back to hold my cue sheets on the sections where I'll need them, and the saddlebag is now far enough back that abrasions should be a thing of the past. A long test ride this weekend will hold the verdict - but I have a feeling it's the way it should be now.
There are some changes that are welcome and are staying, however, that were also spurred on by the 400K. The new Cane Creek brake hoods, after a few rides, are MUCH nicer than the Shimano's they replaced, so my initial impressions stand. Further, the new Schmidt E6 is fabulous, still, and after a little re-aiming of both lights, the pattern on the road is nearly perfect and more than adequate for the darkest nights. The bike is ready.
Finally, I have reached a point where I can just ride and enjoy what lies ahead - the 600K will be a pleasure -- I actually can't WAIT until I'm on that long stretch of K-152 on towards highway J in Missouri, in the dark at who-knows-what hour, passing by the La Cygne powerplant, all lit up and humming - on towards the lights of Butler in the early AM for a well deserved break. Only 15 days away!
The 600K is a huge deal. People don't realize that. Thoughts of someone being "crazy" for riding X-number of miles were tossed out the window at the 300K level. Most recreational cyclists and tourists can ride a century plus, so a 200K is not out of the question -- yeah, it's a long ride, but I think 90% of people on bicycles TODAY could do it. The 300K, people start questioning things - and the notion of riding almost TWO centuries starts to weed out the crazies. By the time we get to 400K, there's very few of us left over. In a typical year, you can have almost 30-40 people show up for a 200K, then 15-20 for the 300K, and then maybe 10 for the 400K. Needless to say, the numbers for the 600K are usually smaller.
Now, this is a Paris year, so the numbers will be higher than usual - but still, the 600K is huge. It's a HUGE deal. It's THREE 200K's. It's nearly 400 miles. It's big, and most things that I've read all agree that your FIRST completion of a 600K can actually be a life-changing event. It's that hard.
So, am I nervous? You bet! Not like in year's past, certainly, however - I have a lot more control over my training than I've practiced in the past, and I have felt better at the end of each brevet - probably moreso than I have in years past. But, that big BIG ride is coming, and in typical fashion I start to think.
Thinking turns into TOO much thinking. And too much thinking can be dangerous. This is the kind of thinking that has brought me to completely restructuring my bicycle stable, completely re-doing drivetrains the week before, and packing and re-packing everything I own, running from over-prepared, to far-too-minimalist.
I've had real issues with this in the past. This year, again, is markedly different - as this behavior started up again with regards to the 600K, I actually have JUST -- as of yesterday afternoon -- taken a huge step back, and stopped myself.
The process started after the 400K wrapped up, with the saddlebag issues.
After going thru the whole thing with ordering up a new rack and such to get the saddlebag repositioned, it did not turn out the way I liked. Not even close - and it was a lot of added complication to accomplish the same end result. Yes, the saddelbag WAS rubbing me raw at the end of the 400K, so a fix WAS needed -- but I took it way too extreme. Keep it simple! After all that monkeying around, I have removed that fancy new rack and put the Carradice SQR system BACK on the bike, with some minor changes: Namely, I put the steel rack portion of the assembly into my bench vise and gave it some careful bending. Solid steel is very forgiving in this way, much like cold-setting a frame to take a wider rear wheel. But, one does have to use caution and make small movements, which I did. Afterwards, the saddlebag is now about an inch farther away from the back edge of the saddle than it was previously - and a test ride around the block confirms that there is now no contact that will cause abrasion. Problem solved. Unfortunately, now I have a nice new rack that I don't need: thank goodness for swap meets.
so, why go back? Well, after I'd just got done saying (justifying) that I never used the quick release feature while ON brevet, it's infinitely handy when transporting a bike TO a brevet. All of the stuff I need for the ride is pre-packed in the bag, and the bag is off the bike in the car itself, which prevents a lot of problems. Further, while I never have before removed the bag during a ride before, there is the issue of changing clothes. Spending a full day in the same pair of shorts is inadvisable, unless you enjoy saddle sores -- so changing clothes at the halfway of a 400K is a practice I've gotten into over the past few years, and the 600K might even have three changes. The best, easiest way to do this: simply remove the bag from the bike, which has everything in it, and take it right into the restroom at the c-store, instead of gathering a handful of stuff in the parking lot and walking in with it - which is what I've been doing in the past. Ointments, sunscreen, etc., are already in the bag -- why not just take it ALL inside? The SQR makes sense on brevets as well as commutes, and actually it's MORE solid than the rack system I tried for a week - sway is nill, and the bag is held solidly in place on climbs. The notion that the fixed rack would be more secure didn't prove to be true -- with a rack trunk, perhaps, but not with a transverse saddlebag. And with the SQR's 10kg weight limit, there is no penalty whatsoever. Even with the bag stuffed to the gills I seldom approach even half that weight. There is no silver bullet, and if something happens durign the 600K I will simply have to adapt. Even on the 400K, as annoying and painful as those abrasions were starting to feel, pain like that is temporary. It's not worth a DNF.
One quote that I recently read is something I'll carry with me now on all my long rides:
"If whatever hurts will heal in two weeks, keep riding."
-Lon Haldeman (paraphrased)
Also as alluded to in the previous post, the handlebar bag is gone, and instantly the bike feels a little more agile. Considering I was carrying less inside it than it weighed itself, the gains are substantial. It was a neat item, but again it will probably make its way to a swap meet this fall. Keeping it simple is key, and if I have three back pockets, I should use them. It's that simple. I have in the past, so shall I here on out. There is a difference between "touring" and "randonnuering", after all, and I was letting myself get off-base again.
While one can't be too much of a minimalist, this is hard-charging timed riding, and the bike should be as agile and light as possible, without sacrificing preparedness or strength. After 300 miles, I was really not going to want that big box in front of me anymore.
The bike now looks as it did before the 400K - purposeful, and ready. Trim, but not super-light or racey. Efficient. The little stem-mounted, zip-tied binder-clip is back to hold my cue sheets on the sections where I'll need them, and the saddlebag is now far enough back that abrasions should be a thing of the past. A long test ride this weekend will hold the verdict - but I have a feeling it's the way it should be now.
There are some changes that are welcome and are staying, however, that were also spurred on by the 400K. The new Cane Creek brake hoods, after a few rides, are MUCH nicer than the Shimano's they replaced, so my initial impressions stand. Further, the new Schmidt E6 is fabulous, still, and after a little re-aiming of both lights, the pattern on the road is nearly perfect and more than adequate for the darkest nights. The bike is ready.
Finally, I have reached a point where I can just ride and enjoy what lies ahead - the 600K will be a pleasure -- I actually can't WAIT until I'm on that long stretch of K-152 on towards highway J in Missouri, in the dark at who-knows-what hour, passing by the La Cygne powerplant, all lit up and humming - on towards the lights of Butler in the early AM for a well deserved break. Only 15 days away!
May 14, 2007
Night Fever, Episode 2
Welcome to the dark side!
Friday night, the time was perfect, the temperature was perfect and the skies were clear. I still don't know where the moon was, but that's okay - we all had decent headlights, but I tell ya what the road was DARK under those trees. Yeesh. Good test of the new dual-headlamp system, however, finally getting a chance to put the new E6 secondary light through the paces - and it scored quite high. For mild cruising in a group of other riders, however, I'll probably leave it off. Until the road gets really dark or I get out by myself, or get to a fast downhill. It's ALMOST overkill, but after a little re-aiming I think it'll be okay. Seems the hot spots of each light are overlapping a bit. Still, I was lighting up roadside reflectors nearly 1/2 mile down the road at some points, and was able to take long, dark, unfamiliar downhills without touching the brakes, so there was plenty of light.
The new bag mount also worked quite well, with just barely some contact on the backs of each leg - really not bad at all, and not NEARLY as bad as what was happening on the 400K. No sharp contact - just a light brush to the back of each thigh on the downstroke -- might have to tweak it a little, but it shouldn't really be an issue. If I let out a notch on each strap, it might be perfect.
The handlebar bag, however, is gone. It's too much. After feeling a little cumbersome on this shorter ride, I think the novelty of it has worn thin - and considering how tired of fig newtons and crackers I became on the 400K, I'm no longer seeing the value of having those munchies so close at hand. The only other issue might be the cue sheet, however the 600K is a route I'm already intimately familiar with, and the cue sheet won't be neccessary - and if needed I can always reinstall the little stem clippy I was using before, which worked just as well. While it will likely someday come in handy on a tour or camping ride, for brevets where efficiency and relative speed are key, it's really too much -- and while it doesn't matter what other riders do when it comes to making my own decisions, it's notable that even the heavily loaded riders on the 400K didn't have them, and the only other person that had a handlebar bag was using it as his ONLY bag, aside from a small seatbag that carried flat & repair tools. The back pockets on a jersey are there for a reason, and since they were empty on the 400K, it's clear that the only thing the 1000gram bag is doing is replacing my back pockets. With the looming 200K of nasty hills promised on the 600K, I will thank myself.
The night ride was AWESOME, but I was tired for most of it after having time-trialed my way home from work that afternoon. It was a hard ride - but the speed work is becoming more neccessary. It'll be June before long, and it's only a few months away from the big Tejas countdown!
Tonite was not really about speed work or Tejas, however -- just a good night to get out on the bike with friends. The temperature was perfect, about 72 degrees at the start, with the last remains of twilight fading in the western sky.
The ride started quite nice -- plodding along Valley Pkwy, we saw a couple deer, including one close call SUV vs. Deer encounter. Traffic was light, and the air was perfect, just a small hint of chill in the valleys and pockets of hot air at the hilltops. The group was excellent, a who's who of heartiness on the saddle, T-Bone Burns, Badger, Juan Sunuke and your own Dude; Looking purposeful and well-equipped, we proceeded under K-10 and into the darkness of rural Johnson County.
The details of the route aren't as important as the feeling of rolling along quietly in the darkness. The headlight beams led the pack along some excellent country roads, and we were greeted by owl and rabbit, and the occasional roadside hoot from residents out enjoying the night air on a Friday night. There were two really good hills, and the stars were fantastic. Conversation flowed. Ahhh, bliss.
Then we hit Desoto. You know, sometimes I think that 83rd Street ruling is a good idea. I don't WANT to ride there. HA! In all the years and miles I've been riding, I've only had something thrown at me once. That was back in 2003 (freak, did EVERYTHING happen to you in 2003? Shut up!) at the tail end of a 400K, when some bored teens on Mission road decided to make a few high speed passes on me as I rode north through the hilly part. They had terrible aim, and eventually gave up.
Four years later, I'm in Desoto with friends - one of which is on his first EVER group ride - odd that he picked a NIGHT ride to be it: he's such a rando guy, he doesn't even know it yet. We reach our mid-point on Lexington, and it's closed. Too late in the evening, perhaps? It's barely 11pm! The liqour store lady is visibly nervouse, huddled near her doorway, phone to ear. "What's them bikers doin'?, they gonna rob me! Holy Toledo!" Geez, chill out. Bill finishes fixing his front fender, and we're off --- RIGHT when some yeahoos in a tan Saturn, clearly having a stellar Friday night with their old friend "Busch Light" (read: watery cheap crap), decide to pull up and start hollering such thought-provoking phrases like "don't you know it's dark out?", and my favorite "what da hell you doin'?"
What da hell YOU doin', foolio? Chucky Cheese close early tonite?
Of course, that's what I WANTED to say, but none of us even acknowledged them. We rode off down the road, on the way to a Phillips station that we knew would still be open. Timing is everything. Of course, hanging around would have just invited more comments, probably, but we weren't much for carin'. I needed food.
And, then, probably since we ignored their banter, they decided to follow us along the road for a bit --- as I led the pack, I didn't hear anything, no honking, no hollering, no revving engines. HEck, these nice boys I guess had actually watched a few Tour de France videos or something, and decided to play "excited fan wants to cool off his favorite bicycle rider" move, so as they rode by they doused us with a half-liter of water from a bottle. Could have been worse. I think there might have been a holler in there afterwards, as they passed by and took a right turn - but no until I got a clear shot of their license plate. Idiots. Not that the Desoto police would care, but you never know. I like THIS town about as much as I like Warrensburg. At least they were kinda enough to drop the evidence in the road for us to confirm that is was indeed just water. You can't be wasting good beer on folk like us, after all. We arrived at the Philips station, slightly cooler, and ready for a donut. Ahhh... more bliss. So this happens once every four years. I can live with that. I blame T-Bone; he said he'd been getting a lot of this kind of thing lately. thanks, man. ;)
Onward we rolled, out of town, under K-10, and onto a HORRID road that almost made the roads north of Liberty look GOOD. Quarry road, at night, uphill. WHoooo! Pothole city! After successfully navigating the asteroid field, it was relatively smooth sailing again on the return route.
Ok, there was one enthusiastic group of idiots in a big Chevy Silverado that hot-rodded past us off the highway near Prairie Star Pkwy, but hey -- it's their $6.00 they blew out the tailpipes, not mine. It was a GREAT ride, overall, even with the Desoto factor, which I'm sure is nothing more than random - unless there is some connection between the liquor store lady and those Busch-swillin' half-brain water-chuckers. Then it's a conspiracy, and it must stop. And I have to stop it.
Because I am .... Sparticus....
Friday night, the time was perfect, the temperature was perfect and the skies were clear. I still don't know where the moon was, but that's okay - we all had decent headlights, but I tell ya what the road was DARK under those trees. Yeesh. Good test of the new dual-headlamp system, however, finally getting a chance to put the new E6 secondary light through the paces - and it scored quite high. For mild cruising in a group of other riders, however, I'll probably leave it off. Until the road gets really dark or I get out by myself, or get to a fast downhill. It's ALMOST overkill, but after a little re-aiming I think it'll be okay. Seems the hot spots of each light are overlapping a bit. Still, I was lighting up roadside reflectors nearly 1/2 mile down the road at some points, and was able to take long, dark, unfamiliar downhills without touching the brakes, so there was plenty of light.
The new bag mount also worked quite well, with just barely some contact on the backs of each leg - really not bad at all, and not NEARLY as bad as what was happening on the 400K. No sharp contact - just a light brush to the back of each thigh on the downstroke -- might have to tweak it a little, but it shouldn't really be an issue. If I let out a notch on each strap, it might be perfect.
The handlebar bag, however, is gone. It's too much. After feeling a little cumbersome on this shorter ride, I think the novelty of it has worn thin - and considering how tired of fig newtons and crackers I became on the 400K, I'm no longer seeing the value of having those munchies so close at hand. The only other issue might be the cue sheet, however the 600K is a route I'm already intimately familiar with, and the cue sheet won't be neccessary - and if needed I can always reinstall the little stem clippy I was using before, which worked just as well. While it will likely someday come in handy on a tour or camping ride, for brevets where efficiency and relative speed are key, it's really too much -- and while it doesn't matter what other riders do when it comes to making my own decisions, it's notable that even the heavily loaded riders on the 400K didn't have them, and the only other person that had a handlebar bag was using it as his ONLY bag, aside from a small seatbag that carried flat & repair tools. The back pockets on a jersey are there for a reason, and since they were empty on the 400K, it's clear that the only thing the 1000gram bag is doing is replacing my back pockets. With the looming 200K of nasty hills promised on the 600K, I will thank myself.
The night ride was AWESOME, but I was tired for most of it after having time-trialed my way home from work that afternoon. It was a hard ride - but the speed work is becoming more neccessary. It'll be June before long, and it's only a few months away from the big Tejas countdown!
Tonite was not really about speed work or Tejas, however -- just a good night to get out on the bike with friends. The temperature was perfect, about 72 degrees at the start, with the last remains of twilight fading in the western sky.
The ride started quite nice -- plodding along Valley Pkwy, we saw a couple deer, including one close call SUV vs. Deer encounter. Traffic was light, and the air was perfect, just a small hint of chill in the valleys and pockets of hot air at the hilltops. The group was excellent, a who's who of heartiness on the saddle, T-Bone Burns, Badger, Juan Sunuke and your own Dude; Looking purposeful and well-equipped, we proceeded under K-10 and into the darkness of rural Johnson County.
The details of the route aren't as important as the feeling of rolling along quietly in the darkness. The headlight beams led the pack along some excellent country roads, and we were greeted by owl and rabbit, and the occasional roadside hoot from residents out enjoying the night air on a Friday night. There were two really good hills, and the stars were fantastic. Conversation flowed. Ahhh, bliss.
Then we hit Desoto. You know, sometimes I think that 83rd Street ruling is a good idea. I don't WANT to ride there. HA! In all the years and miles I've been riding, I've only had something thrown at me once. That was back in 2003 (freak, did EVERYTHING happen to you in 2003? Shut up!) at the tail end of a 400K, when some bored teens on Mission road decided to make a few high speed passes on me as I rode north through the hilly part. They had terrible aim, and eventually gave up.
Four years later, I'm in Desoto with friends - one of which is on his first EVER group ride - odd that he picked a NIGHT ride to be it: he's such a rando guy, he doesn't even know it yet. We reach our mid-point on Lexington, and it's closed. Too late in the evening, perhaps? It's barely 11pm! The liqour store lady is visibly nervouse, huddled near her doorway, phone to ear. "What's them bikers doin'?, they gonna rob me! Holy Toledo!" Geez, chill out. Bill finishes fixing his front fender, and we're off --- RIGHT when some yeahoos in a tan Saturn, clearly having a stellar Friday night with their old friend "Busch Light" (read: watery cheap crap), decide to pull up and start hollering such thought-provoking phrases like "don't you know it's dark out?", and my favorite "what da hell you doin'?"
What da hell YOU doin', foolio? Chucky Cheese close early tonite?
Of course, that's what I WANTED to say, but none of us even acknowledged them. We rode off down the road, on the way to a Phillips station that we knew would still be open. Timing is everything. Of course, hanging around would have just invited more comments, probably, but we weren't much for carin'. I needed food.
And, then, probably since we ignored their banter, they decided to follow us along the road for a bit --- as I led the pack, I didn't hear anything, no honking, no hollering, no revving engines. HEck, these nice boys I guess had actually watched a few Tour de France videos or something, and decided to play "excited fan wants to cool off his favorite bicycle rider" move, so as they rode by they doused us with a half-liter of water from a bottle. Could have been worse. I think there might have been a holler in there afterwards, as they passed by and took a right turn - but no until I got a clear shot of their license plate. Idiots. Not that the Desoto police would care, but you never know. I like THIS town about as much as I like Warrensburg. At least they were kinda enough to drop the evidence in the road for us to confirm that is was indeed just water. You can't be wasting good beer on folk like us, after all. We arrived at the Philips station, slightly cooler, and ready for a donut. Ahhh... more bliss. So this happens once every four years. I can live with that. I blame T-Bone; he said he'd been getting a lot of this kind of thing lately. thanks, man. ;)
Onward we rolled, out of town, under K-10, and onto a HORRID road that almost made the roads north of Liberty look GOOD. Quarry road, at night, uphill. WHoooo! Pothole city! After successfully navigating the asteroid field, it was relatively smooth sailing again on the return route.
Ok, there was one enthusiastic group of idiots in a big Chevy Silverado that hot-rodded past us off the highway near Prairie Star Pkwy, but hey -- it's their $6.00 they blew out the tailpipes, not mine. It was a GREAT ride, overall, even with the Desoto factor, which I'm sure is nothing more than random - unless there is some connection between the liquor store lady and those Busch-swillin' half-brain water-chuckers. Then it's a conspiracy, and it must stop. And I have to stop it.
Because I am .... Sparticus....
May 11, 2007
Tentative solidarity
Ahhh...spring! Dawn is early, the sun beginning to light the air as early as 5:30am nowadays. With warm pre-dawn temps and pristine skies, joggers, dog-walkers and cyclists are out enmasse, making my morning commute a little less empty.
YEP, that's right - surprise - it's rant-mode time.
Yeah, I can't control everything. I know that. It's not any one man's place to control everything -- and without delving into politicism, I'll leave it at that.
However, there is indeed an individual responsibility to do good, do right, and help to improve the societies within we each live and work -- in other words, act locally. If you DO want the world to be a better place, you must take the first step. That's part of this whole movement, this commuting to work by bicycle thing that I push and pump and preach. I can't MAKE anyone do it - but by simply doing it MYSELF, I can hopefully lead by example and others might follow. That's all I can do. I can't go around stealing car keys.
When hard work gets undermined, it hits home. Sometimes doing the right thing is a losing battle. Take driving, and one of my problems with it around here: while change must begin with the individual, and one must try to do right and lead by example, there is sometimes a force, a regime, an incumbent behavior that is SO rampant you will probably get run over - and the fact that you're doing right is actually frowned upon, to the point where it inspires anger. Try driving the speed limit on any local highway, for example. It's hard to obey the law, and there are no longer enough people doing it to make the ones that choose NOT to throw up their arms and simply give in to the posted limit. Let's not get started on how few seconds one actually saves by driving 15 MPH over the posted limit IN TOWN during a 15 mile trip. The logic doesn't seem to sit well.
When you reduce the odds, however, and look at things in terms of bicycles - this is also one of those battles. There are really SO FEW of us out there using bicycles as transportation, and SO many cars, that it becomes increasingly important to do things right, if for no other reason as to benefit our fellow cyclists. For example, if you are placed in an environment where only ONE PERSON on the highway is speeding, the rest of the drivers will get annoyed, angry, and will point fingers. If placed in an environment where EVERYONE is doing it, suddenly it becomes okay.
Becasue there is SO much of that happening, it actually HAS become okay -- it's only a problem if you happen to get caught doing it. Back to cyclists, there are, again, so FEW of us out there, that the pressure to set the right example HAS to be higher. Motorists interface with so few of us, that the precedent of example becomes far more important. For EVERY car that passes me, and sees me doing things correctly, perhaps that will fare better the NEXT cyclist they pass on the road, as the laws of assumption would dictate that "if the last guy did this, then I can expect the next guy to ALSO do this". Conversely, if a cyclist or a group of cyclists runs a red light, a stop sign, rides four abreast, doesn't yield, flips the bird, rides the wrong way in traffic, doesn't signal, rides all the way up the right side of cars to be first in line at the light, etc., it sets a poor precedent that can and usually IS taken out on the NEXT cyclist that the affected motorists encounter.
So, I have to ask - the morning recreational cyclists this morning that I saw, at two different locations at two different times, that both ran red lights - and even for the rider that I saw last weekend that did the same thing at 10:30AM at busy 87th Street and Renner, turning left onto northbound Renner against traffic on a red signal in front of me and Badger (sitting at the light waiting for our green) and all the cars there that witnessed it - I have to ask of all of you, what are you assuming or thinking?
Is it the mentality of the group ride? Is the the inability to unclip? Ignorance of the laws that apply to automobiles AND bicycles, both vehicles on the road? Uncaring nose-thumbing? One has to wonder. When we are all up-in-arms in advocacy efforts with regards to issues like 127th Street's improvements, complaining that cities don't provide enough bicycle lanes, and wondering why cars give us a hard time - one has to wonder if there simply is no connection between behavior and expected outcome. Since there are so few of us, why is there this constant pressure to do as the group does? Why not just stop, wait for the light, signal, stay to the right as practicable, ditch the headphones, listen for cars, and generally use common sense? This notion that doing the right thing is somehow "uncool" or will be somehow frowned upon by others in the cycling community is a notion that should have been ditched after high-school. Do *I* do everything right? HELL no. Yeah, these always have the potential to come across kinda preachy, but dammit - what do you get on Sunday mornings, and how quickly do you forget it? I'm not infallable, and I don't pretend to be - but there are mistakes, and then there are repeated offenses. I'm asking for those that have rights to the roadways to simply obey the rules at least long enough to make it easier for the ones that already do.
If you don't want rights on the road, and are not going to benefit the situation, there are lots of well-maintained bicycle paths available now, metro-wide. Please use them, because after much debate THAT is what your city governments, after public pressure and voting, have decided is best for what is deemed "a cyclist" by the general public. Your actions on the road directly affect that definition, and it's creating an environment where the people that DO follow the rules might as well just give up and do what everyone else is doing - because it's just easier than ranting on a blog, or choosing not to return a wave to someone that isn't even AWARE that what they are doing is foolish, unsafe, illegal, and detrimental to the general culture of bicycling.
Next time you run a red light or a 4-way stop, ask yourself:
Would you have done that in a car?
Would you want your wife doing it?
Would you want your KIDS doing it?
What would your mom think? Seriously? Would she be proud, assuming you still value her opinion?
The answer should dictate your behavior - and if it does as I hope it does, we can FINALLY all - as a cycling collective - begin to reap the benefits of a governmental system and a general non-cycling public that appreciates and respects our presence on the roadways.
Please be safe out there - for ALL our benefits.
YEP, that's right - surprise - it's rant-mode time.
Yeah, I can't control everything. I know that. It's not any one man's place to control everything -- and without delving into politicism, I'll leave it at that.
However, there is indeed an individual responsibility to do good, do right, and help to improve the societies within we each live and work -- in other words, act locally. If you DO want the world to be a better place, you must take the first step. That's part of this whole movement, this commuting to work by bicycle thing that I push and pump and preach. I can't MAKE anyone do it - but by simply doing it MYSELF, I can hopefully lead by example and others might follow. That's all I can do. I can't go around stealing car keys.
When hard work gets undermined, it hits home. Sometimes doing the right thing is a losing battle. Take driving, and one of my problems with it around here: while change must begin with the individual, and one must try to do right and lead by example, there is sometimes a force, a regime, an incumbent behavior that is SO rampant you will probably get run over - and the fact that you're doing right is actually frowned upon, to the point where it inspires anger. Try driving the speed limit on any local highway, for example. It's hard to obey the law, and there are no longer enough people doing it to make the ones that choose NOT to throw up their arms and simply give in to the posted limit. Let's not get started on how few seconds one actually saves by driving 15 MPH over the posted limit IN TOWN during a 15 mile trip. The logic doesn't seem to sit well.
When you reduce the odds, however, and look at things in terms of bicycles - this is also one of those battles. There are really SO FEW of us out there using bicycles as transportation, and SO many cars, that it becomes increasingly important to do things right, if for no other reason as to benefit our fellow cyclists. For example, if you are placed in an environment where only ONE PERSON on the highway is speeding, the rest of the drivers will get annoyed, angry, and will point fingers. If placed in an environment where EVERYONE is doing it, suddenly it becomes okay.
Becasue there is SO much of that happening, it actually HAS become okay -- it's only a problem if you happen to get caught doing it. Back to cyclists, there are, again, so FEW of us out there, that the pressure to set the right example HAS to be higher. Motorists interface with so few of us, that the precedent of example becomes far more important. For EVERY car that passes me, and sees me doing things correctly, perhaps that will fare better the NEXT cyclist they pass on the road, as the laws of assumption would dictate that "if the last guy did this, then I can expect the next guy to ALSO do this". Conversely, if a cyclist or a group of cyclists runs a red light, a stop sign, rides four abreast, doesn't yield, flips the bird, rides the wrong way in traffic, doesn't signal, rides all the way up the right side of cars to be first in line at the light, etc., it sets a poor precedent that can and usually IS taken out on the NEXT cyclist that the affected motorists encounter.
So, I have to ask - the morning recreational cyclists this morning that I saw, at two different locations at two different times, that both ran red lights - and even for the rider that I saw last weekend that did the same thing at 10:30AM at busy 87th Street and Renner, turning left onto northbound Renner against traffic on a red signal in front of me and Badger (sitting at the light waiting for our green) and all the cars there that witnessed it - I have to ask of all of you, what are you assuming or thinking?
Is it the mentality of the group ride? Is the the inability to unclip? Ignorance of the laws that apply to automobiles AND bicycles, both vehicles on the road? Uncaring nose-thumbing? One has to wonder. When we are all up-in-arms in advocacy efforts with regards to issues like 127th Street's improvements, complaining that cities don't provide enough bicycle lanes, and wondering why cars give us a hard time - one has to wonder if there simply is no connection between behavior and expected outcome. Since there are so few of us, why is there this constant pressure to do as the group does? Why not just stop, wait for the light, signal, stay to the right as practicable, ditch the headphones, listen for cars, and generally use common sense? This notion that doing the right thing is somehow "uncool" or will be somehow frowned upon by others in the cycling community is a notion that should have been ditched after high-school. Do *I* do everything right? HELL no. Yeah, these always have the potential to come across kinda preachy, but dammit - what do you get on Sunday mornings, and how quickly do you forget it? I'm not infallable, and I don't pretend to be - but there are mistakes, and then there are repeated offenses. I'm asking for those that have rights to the roadways to simply obey the rules at least long enough to make it easier for the ones that already do.
If you don't want rights on the road, and are not going to benefit the situation, there are lots of well-maintained bicycle paths available now, metro-wide. Please use them, because after much debate THAT is what your city governments, after public pressure and voting, have decided is best for what is deemed "a cyclist" by the general public. Your actions on the road directly affect that definition, and it's creating an environment where the people that DO follow the rules might as well just give up and do what everyone else is doing - because it's just easier than ranting on a blog, or choosing not to return a wave to someone that isn't even AWARE that what they are doing is foolish, unsafe, illegal, and detrimental to the general culture of bicycling.
Next time you run a red light or a 4-way stop, ask yourself:
Would you have done that in a car?
Would you want your wife doing it?
Would you want your KIDS doing it?
What would your mom think? Seriously? Would she be proud, assuming you still value her opinion?
The answer should dictate your behavior - and if it does as I hope it does, we can FINALLY all - as a cycling collective - begin to reap the benefits of a governmental system and a general non-cycling public that appreciates and respects our presence on the roadways.
Please be safe out there - for ALL our benefits.
May 9, 2007
Getting the steed ready for the big'un.
First off, a big heart-felt salute to the people of Greenburg, KS., where Friday at 9:50PM a EF5 tornado swept the town clean off the map, and claimed 12 lives. The tragedy reinforces why I spot/chase for my county in the first place - prevention of the loss of life or property by providing ground truth. It's a scary reminder of what we train for. Our thoughts are with you.
And therein lies a little insight to one of my OTHER hobbies/passions.
But, I digress, because after all this ISN'T the Scattered Observations from the Storm Spotter blog, is it?
The BIG'UN is a'comin'! The 600K, baby... it looms like a dark cloud on the horizon.... but really it isn't THAT dark. After a successful brevet season so-far, checking off all my goals in green to date for 2007, I am headed into this event with a lot more confidence than in previous years. This year, the voices of self-doubt are quiet, the body is willing, and the spirit fresh. Once all of those things are in place, the only thing really left to mess with is equipment! As the 400K wrapped up, I started making my shopping list in my head. The brake levers that had served so well for so many rides were suddenly giving my hand issues (probably the additional body weight that was absent in 2005, the last time I did this distance.) The saddlebag had dug a couple holes in my backside (but not my shorts?), so a new bag attachment system of some kind was in order. Plus, after years of trusty service, the Lumotec round headlight begins to pale in comparison to it's contemporary, the Schimdt E6. Let the fun begin!
Thanks to an appropriately timed bonus check from work - sometimes corporate america isn't THAT bad - it was time to hit a few of my favorite sources for parts: Rivendell Bicycle Works and Peter White Cycles.
First, the saddlebag support/rack from Nitto, Tokyo, JP. I had this thing in the back of my mind for a long time as a good solution, but had never jumped because it's a RACK. I generally don't like racks - not for any reason other than visually cluttering on the clean lines of a nice frame, but that notion has slowly been evolving into and understanding that the RIGHT rack can actually enhance a bicycle. Aside from that, functional notions took precedence and I simply needed my bags to come off the bike quickly, for commutes. The Carradice SQR system was the perfect solution, and it's been along with me on brevets and commutes alike for years now. Cut to today, and the Kogswell frameset: It's amazing how much of a difference a couple centimeters can make on a set-up, no matter what it is. The SQR system is comprised of a rack-like attachment that fixes to the bag itself, and then a seatpost block that uses heavy steel clamps to affix to the post and hold that rack, which holds the bag. Great system, solid, holds up to 10 kgs (22 lbs!) and keeps the bag from swaying, keeps it off your legs while riding (as opposed to a direct to seat-rails attachment), and promotes easy removal for taking the bag inside once you arrive at work. Unfortunately, this seatpost block's clamps must be able to slide up and down the seatpost for proper placement - and the Kogswell frame has a rather nice, while ornamental, spire on the front of the top of the seat tube. It's a nice touch, but it effectively adds 2.5mm to the top edge of the seatpost, and thus limits how far DOWN those clamps can be mounted. This in turn raises the entire assembly UP. Not a huge deal on bigger frames, or for riders that have a lot of seatpost showing -- in my case, this places the saddlebag attachment point ABOVE the saddle line. Not a big deal, but when seated back on the saddle, there is contact. Unwanted contact. I dealt with it, but after a while (say, 20 hours...) that unwanted contact starts to develop into unwanted SORES. And there is no way to lower the block any farther. Function before fashion also has a limit, and there's no way I'd take a Dremel to that nice ornamental touch on the frame, even though it serves no structural purpose. Some things should stay as they are, because NO ONE does things like that anymore for frames! My solution became clearer when I accepted that fact that since bringing the Surly Steamroller back into daily duty, the Kogswell was no longer a commuter machine, but a randonnuering machine. Why do I need to maintain a quick-release saddlebag attachment?
Enter "Mark's Rack" from Rivendell. Made by Nitto in Japan, this silver Cro-Mo rack is gorgeously made, rock-solid, attractive and SUPER functional. For those that don't know, Rivendell doesn't sell junk. They are VERY particular about the products they offer, and this rack is no exception. Nitto products in general are among the finest bits of anything you can attach to a bicycle, from stems to seatposts, and racks. Installation was easy, and I was pleased to find there was more than enough hardware included, even good washers, lock-rings, and Ny-Loc nuts for the clamps - oft overlooked items with cheaper racks. The clamps themselves are a work of functional art; highly polished, well sized, with rubber anti-slip, anti-mar pads included. Installation was easy, and it was also easy to customize the layout of the struts and stays to get it where I wanted it. After installation, the Carradice bag now sits perfectly upon it's minimalist platform. My spare taillight, which used to be mounted to the rack braze-ons themselves, is now displaced - but finds a home on the taillight mounting plate which Nitto brazed to the rear cross member of the rack. The bag now sits move upright, which helps angle the reflective material more perpendicular to the road, and it's well back away from my thighs, and most importantly it's fully below the saddle, so I can sit anywhere without anything pressing against me. Fully loaded on a test-ride, the handling consequence is actually reduced over the SQR system, mainly because the load is lower, if only by a few inches. Problem solved!
The next acquisition solves three problems; the brake levers. For the longest time I have been using the same Shimano "aero" brake levers, model BL-R400. They are simple, and perfect in nearly every way. Solid, and they do as advertised, which is stop the bike. The hoods are comfortable, although a little thin, and in the past I have had to allow for a couple passes of bar tape around and under the hoods to ensure comfort on long distance rides. This time, the Kogswell's journey of discovery continues. Having only had the frame for a little over a year now, it was a completely new set-up from previous bicycles, and while most of the measurements from the old Trek and Bianchi were carried over, things do tend to change, as does one's points of comfort. So, what worked before was downright painful at the end of the 400K, even though it hand;t bothered me much on the 300K -- which could have been because I did the entire 300K in thicker, full-finger woll gloves. In thinner summer gloves on the warmer 400K, the lack of additional padding was apparent after 18 hours of riding. Further, the only design fault I have to cite on these levers is the metal body. Strong, yes - but when tighten against a metal handlebar, there is the possibility of galling or grinding - the latter of which was occuring where the lever body and handlebar were making contact, evidenced by shiny grooves where the brake lever bodies were sitting. That's one benefit of a black handlebar! While not a big deal, tightening didn't fix it, nor did surface grease, and the creaking while riding in the hoods forced me to find other places to put my hands while climbing.
The solution lay with Cane Creek's new SCR-5 brake levers. While brake levers are kind of un-romantic and probably one of the least zippy of bike accessories (save for STI levers, perhaps), they are critical. They stop the bike, provide leverage, a place for hands - but they are taken for granted and overlooked. Cane Creek listened to distance riders and cyclotourists that were looking for a brake lever that could be used on a bike that shifts some other way (bar-ends, or down-tubes, whatever) that was just as "fancy" as high-end "brifters" (Sheldon Brown term). They produced a solid winner with this lever. First point, the levers themselves are modeled loosely around Campagnolo's "Ergo" levers, and the name is fitting - the lever paddles are shaped and have a big, solid, engaging tactile feel. Pull is short, linear, predictable and consistant. The return springs are heavy, and the calipers snap promptly back open after release. The hoods are thick, but not TOO thick, and supple. The "ramp" of the lever is dead flat, compared to the sloped "cup" that the Shimano levers force your hand into, so by contrast the Cane Creek design gives more options for hand placement, spreads weight more evenly, and is ultimately more comfortable for this type of riding. Physically larger, the lever body allows the rider to place the hood surface higher on the bar, without pivoting the entire lever to the point where the paddle isn't reachable from the drops. It's a good design. Additionally, the lever body itself is high-impact molded resin instead of metal, so while weight is not a concern it IS lighter despite it's size, and the metal-to-metal noise issues are completely eliminated.
Additionally, and also borrowed from Campy, there are quick-release buttons on the levers themselves that allow you to open the brakes - notable that most Campy brake calipers do not have quick-releases, so this is essential - but for Shimano and Tektro calipers that DO have quick-releases, this means that I can flip the release at the lever, and then flip the release at the caliper, and BIG tires can now be removed from the bicycle without releasing air, or otherwise struggling to squeeze the tire past the brake pads. This, in reality, was never a "problem" for me, but the addition of this feature made me smile, and now removing the front wheel will take a lot less hassling. A very good design. Problems solved!
The final "issue" I had was with lighting on the 400K. The trusty round Lumotec light that has served me well since it's initial purchase in 2002 (!!) is a terrific light, still is. But, it's never been up against anything better. Only recently have LED systems produced good beams and bright lights to the point to make a genuine decision-making process when it comes to new riders getting a lighting system. It's not as cut and dried as it used to be - but I still like and prefer generator systems for my lighting on brevet. You never have to worry about how far your batteries will take you, if you have to carry or buy extras, and if it's rainy during the day you can run them and not worry about paying the price when the sun goes down. When you ride, they come on. That's about as good as it gets. It's evident that generator systems are here to stay, as technology and improvements continue; LED generator headlihts are now available, and improvements have been made with regards to halogen systems, as well. It's this last point that really tripped my trigger on the 400K.
I remember when it first became available, the Schmidt E6 headlamp. It's pricey: $110 compared to the Lumotec's $40. Initially, since I was not able to see if for myself, my impression was that is can't possibly be $70 brighter than what I've got... it's got the SAME light bulb in it, a 3W, 6V halogen bulb, just like mine, and it runs off the same hub. No fancy circuitry, no tricks - how can it be brighter? I kept right on using my Lumotec. It's GREAT. It lights up the road, on-coming traffic dims their brights for me on dark country roads - I know they seem me, and I can see reflectors on bridges and cars nearly 1/4 mile ahead of me when it's aimed properly. At the 400K in 2005, four other riders crowded behind me and Spencer (another Lumotec user) for the final 40-miles back to Grandview, because our lights were THAT much better. It's a great light. Can the Schmidt E6 POSSIBLY be better?
Finally, randonnuering in this area is taking off. More riders are riding distance, and that ups the chances that you will see a wider range of gear being implemented. While many still depend on battery lights and multiple LED headlamps, many others are springing for generator systems. Once the benefits are realized and the math performed on battery costs, they start to make good sense for riders that will continue to do long rides into the night. This was the case this year - in prep for PBP, riders showed up good numbers, and there were many different lights to see, including the Schmidt E6. One randonnuer has a gorgeous Rivendell Romulus with TWO Schmidt E6 lights, one primary, one secondary, mounted low on the fork. This was my first time seeing the E6 in full darkness on a non-streetlit road. At first he only had the primary switched on, but it was already apparent. The pattern is tight and bright. I mean BRIGHT. Yes, the optics are the key - and while the Lumotec has terrific optics and produces a good pattern to see the road, with the top of the beam being brighter than the bottom for good even lighting, the Schmidt takes this even farther and the result is a trapezoidal beam pattern with a sharp horizontal cutoff at the top - you literally get a lane-sized polygon of perfectly even and wicked bright light right where you want it. Then, he turned on the secondary light for a downhill. Twice as bright - the road was illuminated as to give the same confidence on a downhill that one would have in bright daylight. The edges of the road were clear, the darker spots on the pavement were easily shown as just that - spots - as opposed to potholes. With the secondary aimed slightly higher, the pattern on the road was excellent. There are motorcycle headlights that don't do this good a job. Seriously.
Later that night, I was teamed up with Dale and Ed, and Ed also had the Schmidt E6 mounted up on his handlebars. With the higher mounting point, I expected the pattern to suffer a little, as is normally the case - but again, I was simply shocked. riding side-by-side down MO-58 in the dark, I could not even discern MY headlight beam because his was so overpowering. FROM THE SAME BULB and HUB. Keep in mind, all things indeed are equal in this comparison: we are both using the Schmidt SON dynohub, and both lights use Philips 3W,6V light bulbs which are interchangeable between brands of light. The Schmidt is simply THAT much better.
I figured the best of both worlds was in order, for my solution. Never having something to compare it to, I was completely content with the Lumotec by itself - but now I MUST have a Schmidt - but to minimize costs I opted for the E6-Z secondary light to run in tandem with my Lumotec. With proper aiming, I can have an effective "lo-beam" with the Lumotec, and really kick things up at speeds above 10 MPH by running both lights. In essence, I can have twice the light, at the same effort, simply utilizing the over-voltage from the primary light with a switched series connection to the hub. After mounting, aiming, and wiring it's confirmed in practice on a local street where, conveiniently, this week the streetlights aren't working. Good test, and not too far from home. Like streetlights would matter! The Lumotec alone is barely visible in street-light conditions. The beam density simply isn't high enough to be effective - but that's ok because you have streelights, and after years of commuting I've never faulted this issue. I've never hit anything I wasn't looking out for, and the headlight beam has never left me wondering. Now, however, by switching on the secondary Schmidt I don't have anything to balk at. The beam is fully visible in streetlit conditions, and on dark roads it's seriously difficult to tell if the Lumotec is even turned ON. I had to return to the garage for a little re-aiming, to maximize both beams and get a good even pattern - but still, the light is so bright from the E6, it makes me wonder if a primary E6 is in my future, too. It's a landmark of design and optics. The Lumotec has been dethroned, but still trumps the E6 in safety overall by having a built-in reflector -- but that's the beauty of a mixed dual-light system -- I truly CAN have it all now. So, is the Schmidt E6 $70 brighter than the B+M Lumotec? Yes.
So, with the lights, the rack, the handlebar bag and saddlebag, the Kogswell looks as if it's arrived where is was designed to be: it's a full-on randonnuering bike.
Bring on the 600K -- mentally, physically, and now mechanically - I'm ready.
And therein lies a little insight to one of my OTHER hobbies/passions.
But, I digress, because after all this ISN'T the Scattered Observations from the Storm Spotter blog, is it?
The BIG'UN is a'comin'! The 600K, baby... it looms like a dark cloud on the horizon.... but really it isn't THAT dark. After a successful brevet season so-far, checking off all my goals in green to date for 2007, I am headed into this event with a lot more confidence than in previous years. This year, the voices of self-doubt are quiet, the body is willing, and the spirit fresh. Once all of those things are in place, the only thing really left to mess with is equipment! As the 400K wrapped up, I started making my shopping list in my head. The brake levers that had served so well for so many rides were suddenly giving my hand issues (probably the additional body weight that was absent in 2005, the last time I did this distance.) The saddlebag had dug a couple holes in my backside (but not my shorts?), so a new bag attachment system of some kind was in order. Plus, after years of trusty service, the Lumotec round headlight begins to pale in comparison to it's contemporary, the Schimdt E6. Let the fun begin!
Thanks to an appropriately timed bonus check from work - sometimes corporate america isn't THAT bad - it was time to hit a few of my favorite sources for parts: Rivendell Bicycle Works and Peter White Cycles.
First, the saddlebag support/rack from Nitto, Tokyo, JP. I had this thing in the back of my mind for a long time as a good solution, but had never jumped because it's a RACK. I generally don't like racks - not for any reason other than visually cluttering on the clean lines of a nice frame, but that notion has slowly been evolving into and understanding that the RIGHT rack can actually enhance a bicycle. Aside from that, functional notions took precedence and I simply needed my bags to come off the bike quickly, for commutes. The Carradice SQR system was the perfect solution, and it's been along with me on brevets and commutes alike for years now. Cut to today, and the Kogswell frameset: It's amazing how much of a difference a couple centimeters can make on a set-up, no matter what it is. The SQR system is comprised of a rack-like attachment that fixes to the bag itself, and then a seatpost block that uses heavy steel clamps to affix to the post and hold that rack, which holds the bag. Great system, solid, holds up to 10 kgs (22 lbs!) and keeps the bag from swaying, keeps it off your legs while riding (as opposed to a direct to seat-rails attachment), and promotes easy removal for taking the bag inside once you arrive at work. Unfortunately, this seatpost block's clamps must be able to slide up and down the seatpost for proper placement - and the Kogswell frame has a rather nice, while ornamental, spire on the front of the top of the seat tube. It's a nice touch, but it effectively adds 2.5mm to the top edge of the seatpost, and thus limits how far DOWN those clamps can be mounted. This in turn raises the entire assembly UP. Not a huge deal on bigger frames, or for riders that have a lot of seatpost showing -- in my case, this places the saddlebag attachment point ABOVE the saddle line. Not a big deal, but when seated back on the saddle, there is contact. Unwanted contact. I dealt with it, but after a while (say, 20 hours...) that unwanted contact starts to develop into unwanted SORES. And there is no way to lower the block any farther. Function before fashion also has a limit, and there's no way I'd take a Dremel to that nice ornamental touch on the frame, even though it serves no structural purpose. Some things should stay as they are, because NO ONE does things like that anymore for frames! My solution became clearer when I accepted that fact that since bringing the Surly Steamroller back into daily duty, the Kogswell was no longer a commuter machine, but a randonnuering machine. Why do I need to maintain a quick-release saddlebag attachment?
Enter "Mark's Rack" from Rivendell. Made by Nitto in Japan, this silver Cro-Mo rack is gorgeously made, rock-solid, attractive and SUPER functional. For those that don't know, Rivendell doesn't sell junk. They are VERY particular about the products they offer, and this rack is no exception. Nitto products in general are among the finest bits of anything you can attach to a bicycle, from stems to seatposts, and racks. Installation was easy, and I was pleased to find there was more than enough hardware included, even good washers, lock-rings, and Ny-Loc nuts for the clamps - oft overlooked items with cheaper racks. The clamps themselves are a work of functional art; highly polished, well sized, with rubber anti-slip, anti-mar pads included. Installation was easy, and it was also easy to customize the layout of the struts and stays to get it where I wanted it. After installation, the Carradice bag now sits perfectly upon it's minimalist platform. My spare taillight, which used to be mounted to the rack braze-ons themselves, is now displaced - but finds a home on the taillight mounting plate which Nitto brazed to the rear cross member of the rack. The bag now sits move upright, which helps angle the reflective material more perpendicular to the road, and it's well back away from my thighs, and most importantly it's fully below the saddle, so I can sit anywhere without anything pressing against me. Fully loaded on a test-ride, the handling consequence is actually reduced over the SQR system, mainly because the load is lower, if only by a few inches. Problem solved!
The next acquisition solves three problems; the brake levers. For the longest time I have been using the same Shimano "aero" brake levers, model BL-R400. They are simple, and perfect in nearly every way. Solid, and they do as advertised, which is stop the bike. The hoods are comfortable, although a little thin, and in the past I have had to allow for a couple passes of bar tape around and under the hoods to ensure comfort on long distance rides. This time, the Kogswell's journey of discovery continues. Having only had the frame for a little over a year now, it was a completely new set-up from previous bicycles, and while most of the measurements from the old Trek and Bianchi were carried over, things do tend to change, as does one's points of comfort. So, what worked before was downright painful at the end of the 400K, even though it hand;t bothered me much on the 300K -- which could have been because I did the entire 300K in thicker, full-finger woll gloves. In thinner summer gloves on the warmer 400K, the lack of additional padding was apparent after 18 hours of riding. Further, the only design fault I have to cite on these levers is the metal body. Strong, yes - but when tighten against a metal handlebar, there is the possibility of galling or grinding - the latter of which was occuring where the lever body and handlebar were making contact, evidenced by shiny grooves where the brake lever bodies were sitting. That's one benefit of a black handlebar! While not a big deal, tightening didn't fix it, nor did surface grease, and the creaking while riding in the hoods forced me to find other places to put my hands while climbing.
The solution lay with Cane Creek's new SCR-5 brake levers. While brake levers are kind of un-romantic and probably one of the least zippy of bike accessories (save for STI levers, perhaps), they are critical. They stop the bike, provide leverage, a place for hands - but they are taken for granted and overlooked. Cane Creek listened to distance riders and cyclotourists that were looking for a brake lever that could be used on a bike that shifts some other way (bar-ends, or down-tubes, whatever) that was just as "fancy" as high-end "brifters" (Sheldon Brown term). They produced a solid winner with this lever. First point, the levers themselves are modeled loosely around Campagnolo's "Ergo" levers, and the name is fitting - the lever paddles are shaped and have a big, solid, engaging tactile feel. Pull is short, linear, predictable and consistant. The return springs are heavy, and the calipers snap promptly back open after release. The hoods are thick, but not TOO thick, and supple. The "ramp" of the lever is dead flat, compared to the sloped "cup" that the Shimano levers force your hand into, so by contrast the Cane Creek design gives more options for hand placement, spreads weight more evenly, and is ultimately more comfortable for this type of riding. Physically larger, the lever body allows the rider to place the hood surface higher on the bar, without pivoting the entire lever to the point where the paddle isn't reachable from the drops. It's a good design. Additionally, the lever body itself is high-impact molded resin instead of metal, so while weight is not a concern it IS lighter despite it's size, and the metal-to-metal noise issues are completely eliminated.
Additionally, and also borrowed from Campy, there are quick-release buttons on the levers themselves that allow you to open the brakes - notable that most Campy brake calipers do not have quick-releases, so this is essential - but for Shimano and Tektro calipers that DO have quick-releases, this means that I can flip the release at the lever, and then flip the release at the caliper, and BIG tires can now be removed from the bicycle without releasing air, or otherwise struggling to squeeze the tire past the brake pads. This, in reality, was never a "problem" for me, but the addition of this feature made me smile, and now removing the front wheel will take a lot less hassling. A very good design. Problems solved!
The final "issue" I had was with lighting on the 400K. The trusty round Lumotec light that has served me well since it's initial purchase in 2002 (!!) is a terrific light, still is. But, it's never been up against anything better. Only recently have LED systems produced good beams and bright lights to the point to make a genuine decision-making process when it comes to new riders getting a lighting system. It's not as cut and dried as it used to be - but I still like and prefer generator systems for my lighting on brevet. You never have to worry about how far your batteries will take you, if you have to carry or buy extras, and if it's rainy during the day you can run them and not worry about paying the price when the sun goes down. When you ride, they come on. That's about as good as it gets. It's evident that generator systems are here to stay, as technology and improvements continue; LED generator headlihts are now available, and improvements have been made with regards to halogen systems, as well. It's this last point that really tripped my trigger on the 400K.
I remember when it first became available, the Schmidt E6 headlamp. It's pricey: $110 compared to the Lumotec's $40. Initially, since I was not able to see if for myself, my impression was that is can't possibly be $70 brighter than what I've got... it's got the SAME light bulb in it, a 3W, 6V halogen bulb, just like mine, and it runs off the same hub. No fancy circuitry, no tricks - how can it be brighter? I kept right on using my Lumotec. It's GREAT. It lights up the road, on-coming traffic dims their brights for me on dark country roads - I know they seem me, and I can see reflectors on bridges and cars nearly 1/4 mile ahead of me when it's aimed properly. At the 400K in 2005, four other riders crowded behind me and Spencer (another Lumotec user) for the final 40-miles back to Grandview, because our lights were THAT much better. It's a great light. Can the Schmidt E6 POSSIBLY be better?
Finally, randonnuering in this area is taking off. More riders are riding distance, and that ups the chances that you will see a wider range of gear being implemented. While many still depend on battery lights and multiple LED headlamps, many others are springing for generator systems. Once the benefits are realized and the math performed on battery costs, they start to make good sense for riders that will continue to do long rides into the night. This was the case this year - in prep for PBP, riders showed up good numbers, and there were many different lights to see, including the Schmidt E6. One randonnuer has a gorgeous Rivendell Romulus with TWO Schmidt E6 lights, one primary, one secondary, mounted low on the fork. This was my first time seeing the E6 in full darkness on a non-streetlit road. At first he only had the primary switched on, but it was already apparent. The pattern is tight and bright. I mean BRIGHT. Yes, the optics are the key - and while the Lumotec has terrific optics and produces a good pattern to see the road, with the top of the beam being brighter than the bottom for good even lighting, the Schmidt takes this even farther and the result is a trapezoidal beam pattern with a sharp horizontal cutoff at the top - you literally get a lane-sized polygon of perfectly even and wicked bright light right where you want it. Then, he turned on the secondary light for a downhill. Twice as bright - the road was illuminated as to give the same confidence on a downhill that one would have in bright daylight. The edges of the road were clear, the darker spots on the pavement were easily shown as just that - spots - as opposed to potholes. With the secondary aimed slightly higher, the pattern on the road was excellent. There are motorcycle headlights that don't do this good a job. Seriously.
Later that night, I was teamed up with Dale and Ed, and Ed also had the Schmidt E6 mounted up on his handlebars. With the higher mounting point, I expected the pattern to suffer a little, as is normally the case - but again, I was simply shocked. riding side-by-side down MO-58 in the dark, I could not even discern MY headlight beam because his was so overpowering. FROM THE SAME BULB and HUB. Keep in mind, all things indeed are equal in this comparison: we are both using the Schmidt SON dynohub, and both lights use Philips 3W,6V light bulbs which are interchangeable between brands of light. The Schmidt is simply THAT much better.
I figured the best of both worlds was in order, for my solution. Never having something to compare it to, I was completely content with the Lumotec by itself - but now I MUST have a Schmidt - but to minimize costs I opted for the E6-Z secondary light to run in tandem with my Lumotec. With proper aiming, I can have an effective "lo-beam" with the Lumotec, and really kick things up at speeds above 10 MPH by running both lights. In essence, I can have twice the light, at the same effort, simply utilizing the over-voltage from the primary light with a switched series connection to the hub. After mounting, aiming, and wiring it's confirmed in practice on a local street where, conveiniently, this week the streetlights aren't working. Good test, and not too far from home. Like streetlights would matter! The Lumotec alone is barely visible in street-light conditions. The beam density simply isn't high enough to be effective - but that's ok because you have streelights, and after years of commuting I've never faulted this issue. I've never hit anything I wasn't looking out for, and the headlight beam has never left me wondering. Now, however, by switching on the secondary Schmidt I don't have anything to balk at. The beam is fully visible in streetlit conditions, and on dark roads it's seriously difficult to tell if the Lumotec is even turned ON. I had to return to the garage for a little re-aiming, to maximize both beams and get a good even pattern - but still, the light is so bright from the E6, it makes me wonder if a primary E6 is in my future, too. It's a landmark of design and optics. The Lumotec has been dethroned, but still trumps the E6 in safety overall by having a built-in reflector -- but that's the beauty of a mixed dual-light system -- I truly CAN have it all now. So, is the Schmidt E6 $70 brighter than the B+M Lumotec? Yes.
So, with the lights, the rack, the handlebar bag and saddlebag, the Kogswell looks as if it's arrived where is was designed to be: it's a full-on randonnuering bike.
Bring on the 600K -- mentally, physically, and now mechanically - I'm ready.
April 29, 2007
The long road back to form
It is indeed a long road back to the form that I'm most proud of, my landmark year of 2003. As cycling goes, that's when the magic elements of body weight, mental toughness, caloric methodology, and execution were at their peak. Not beeing too old yet, I am determined to get back to that form that I let slip. Either complacency, over-confidence, or the notion that getting to such a place was a destination and not something that needed to be maintained, have taken their toll. I was wrong. It DOES take work to stay at a certain weight, a certain level of fitness, and I wasn't doing it. I coasted thru 2004 on the previous year's successes, and did fairly well. 2005, I started slowly gaining weight, and losing my self-control with regards to food intake in relation to exercise. By the middle of 2005, I had over-trained myself twice, and then the recovery from those processes began to take longer and longer. Speed slipped, and instead of owning it I chalked it up to "having fun" and taking a slower approach to cycling in general. Instead of planning hard-charging metrics, I was planning coffee and pastry rides - there's nothing at all wrong with those, assuming one works in moderation and burns off those pastries. I was not. Then came 2006, a year with big plans that fell short. Jumping to quickly to the notion that I could easily jump back into distance rides, the only brevets I actually finished in 2006 were two 200K rides, neither of which were anywhere close to indicative of my previous showings. The 300K didn't happen, and the 400K was a sad attempt. All the while I searched for excuses, magic-bullets, and misguided solutions. It was always something OTHER than me. It was the bike, the gearing, the bags, the lack of bags, the food, the magic powders, or real food -- something was always the culprit. So long as it wasn't MY fault. Several bikes later, several trips to fixed gear, single-speed and back, minimlist packing to horrid OVER-packing, I had played around more than I had trained, and I still wondered why the results were not coming, while eating too much, training too little, and generally assuming that I had some sort of natural ability that would come to my rescue. Then, at the end of 200, I saw my average speeds dropping again and finally the whole thing came to a head in Cleburne, TX., when an attempt to return to greatness was cut short by a nasty ankle injury. Then came family tragedy. Eventually, I was off the bike for a long while. It was time for a clean slate, whether I knew it or not. 2007 was here.
I still know that I have a lot of work left to do, but all of the above realizations have led me to the conclusion that I either want it, or I don't. The time for waffling & citing shallow excuses, and retelling the 'glory days' with the reverence of someone twice my age need to stop. The glory days are not over - I simply lost my way. This year has proven different. Injuries have healed, and the pain of loss has subsided enough to allow a return to normalcy - which has refocused my mind towards a more goal-oriented approach to cycling. Things like gear ratios, number of gears, bags, packing arrangements, and food choices have taken a back-seat to the notions that I simply have something to do: HOW do I want to do it? Instead of making excuses, I've taken up the reigns of action. It's not WHAT fuel, it's simply making sure I'm getting the energy I need to continue riding. Excuses like "the fuel wasn't sitting well" have fallen out of my vocabulary, in the sense that I'm muttering these things after I have switched game-plans and found something that DOES work - rather that moaning about it in the car on the way back to the start location with another DNF. My focus now, at least by attempt, is to take the good with the bad, and know that these rides, these goals I set for myself, are NOT easy ones and I have to be prepared to take the consequences of my choices - good or bad. Otherwise, I should simply not set these goals. I'll stop setting goals when I'm dead, frankly. If one wants to affirm one's life, one has to be prepared for the fact that it ISN'T easy. There will be punctures, crashes, hardships, pain, sores, stiffness, upset stomachs, burnt-out light bulbs, and dehydration. It is how important to you the realization of a goal is that makes the difference and makes the suffering worthwhile. Even the sweetest of ride finishes are never made without some hardship. As is such with life. Simply put, it's why things cost what they do. There is always a price.
This year, differing from the last three, has begun to prove quite satisfying. While sore and tired, I have finished his year's long rides with a smile. The 200K was cold and bleak, with a killer headwind. The 300K, it snowed and rained - but there was a reward. The 400K, completed early this morning at about 12:40 AM, was long, hard, tiresome, and had it's share of ups and downs -- but it was a great success. The biggest indicator I can offer to that effect is that despite stomach distress, a wicked headwind for the about 80 miles of the ride, a LOT more climbing that the old 400K route, and a 30-mile death-march slog for the last endless leg of the ride, I STILL managed to finish only an hour-and-40 off my best time EVER for a 400K, which was 18 hours, in - you guessed it - 2003. Considering I'm personally 35 lbs heavier, on bicycle that easily is 10 lbs heavier than the other bike I did the 18-hours upon, with front and rear saddlebags, full fenders, and a freakin brass bell. On a route that I had never ridden before. I call that a success. Perfect? No. Should it be? No way. But, it's a finish for an event where the ONLY objective IS to finish. I'm really proud of this one, and even though there is a lot of work left to be done with regards to weight loss, I'm currently enjoying leg strength that rivals 2003-levels, a mental toughness that hasn't been around in a while, and equipment savvy that isn't exactly racer-esqe - but purposeful, prepared, and long-day performance oriented. Yeah, I had more baggage on my bicycle than anyone else did, but I didn't finish last -- nor was finishing place ever important. I was comfortable, calm under adversity, and never cramped. I had a fresh change of clothes at the last control, food at hand, and easy access to the route map - in short, the perfect setup for ME. There are a few opportunities for improvements, specifically with regards to the seatpost QR for the saddlebag, or rather its elimination in lieu of a rack that would have the bag lower so its mount doesn't poke my backside with every pedal stroke forcing me to sit on the saddle nose for most of the day -- but that's easy to remedy. Ouch, by the way. Other items for improvement might have included a cooler jersey for the hottest part of the day, but oh well. It really wasn't that bad, and after dark it was perfect.
So, after all that hoo-haa above, and bringing myself and everyone else up to speed, let's get to it, in no less than five parts, the 2007 400K story:
Part One - Grandview to Holden:
The start of the day was nearly perfect, just the way I like it. A little foggy, very little wind, and about 50 degrees. You can almost smell a full day of cycling in the air. With nearly 30 riders in attendance, it was refreshing to be a part of a big PBP year again - even though I can't make it across the pond this year, it's a good feeling to be a part of something that is building in all of these individual riders. You can feel the anticipation, and the conversations are excellent even to be a fly on the wall for - talk of plans, switching bicycle computers from MPH to KMpH, etc. And, finally, for the first time in a while, many of the who's who of local ultra-cycling are back in the hunt. Byron is here -- yeah, no kidding. I hadn't ridden with him since probably 2003 (there's that freaking year again.), and suddenly there he is! Danny "4-hole", "certain kind of misery" - the guy that rode all four 1,200 KM rides in 2005 -- the Gold Rush, BMB, the Cascade 1200, and Last Chance. And finished all four. Yes, kids... we DO suck. Bow down, and eat an egg burrito in honor. Seriously. Ed is here. Jeff is here -- a rare combo of speed and endurance that rivals the likes of Dan Jordan (Jeff ended up finishing at 9pm, barely late enough to justify a headlight!!!) Spencer is here, on the fixxie as usual. The boys from Iowa were here, including Dale on his trademark Steelman bicycle - this time the orange one -- DANG I wouldn't mind having one of those! NICE. It was a good showing. Bob gave the usual run-down, and we were off racing east towards the rising sun - which was still over and hour away.
After some interesting climbing on a detour over on Chipman Road (wow) we were starting to make our way out of town -- the only bad thing about this ride was all of the in-town riding, which seemed to take forever. After many turns, and many intersections, and a little traffic, we were clear - the streetlights fell behind us, and we started to get out of the reach of society. Ranson Rd. brought us into Greenwood, and then we found 150 highway and a clear passage to the east greeted us with the rising sun, and lifting fog - it was turning out to be an awesome morning. As usual, the pack was big at first and then slowly started to thin out a little bit, eventualy breaking into groups of matched riders. The first big hill, and a couple of poorly timed freight trains also played a big part. You know I love trains, and the fly-bys were perfectly timed for my pleasure - I ended up on the correct side of the tracks, but was still close enough to see the action as I rolled on.
Leading out the middle pack, I pause for the over-the-shoulder shot, as Byron and Ed (two bikes with the prominent headlamps) gaze left to watch the sunrise peeking over the fields.
We passed out of Greenwood, and parts of the route started to look familiar -- most of this ride mirrors the KC MS-150 route, which was neat - but also strange, strange to ride these roads without 1000 other bicycles, route control, and the signature Opie's water trucks waiting every ten miles. That last detail was REALLY going to become important later on, as the perfect temperature, the good company, and the rising tailwind was making it difficult to remember the simple things, like drinking. Although it wasn't going to be a gigantic tragedy, it would become a factor later on in the day. Meanwhile, I was taking the time to catch up with Byron, and enjoy the rare opportunity to ride with a larger pack - a big contrast to the usual solo efforts these rides usually end up being. With each passing mile, the conversation flowed, and the speeds seldom droped below 20 MPH - we were all flying along, soaking up the perfect conditions. Even the roadside cows seemed to be smiling at us, as we rode along. It's funny - I remember climbing, but I don't remember the hills. I'd sure remember them about 14 hours later.
Sunrise, eastbound on 150 highway, west of Lone Jack, MO.
The only unfortunate thing about individual pacing, control routines, etc., is that eventually you start to slip from the pack a little. We reached Holden FAST, it seemed - unfortunately I don't have my timecard handy to reference the exact time, but it was still really early in the day. The fast pack arrived WAY early, and I think they were actually already gone by the time I rolled up. Our pack obviously, even though I tried to hurry, seemed to be on a mission for the next control, and while I took a much needed bathroom break, I emerged to see many of the pack already leaving the parking lot of the Holden Casey's. No huge deal, but it's hard to accept the solitude of the road after a few hours of good conversation -- but that only confirms that I still need to shape up and plan my off-bike routines a little.
The ride to Sedalia was next - basically completing the first day of the MS-150 was in the cards with only one stop along the way - not bad. Seems like I've tried and tried in the past for a good result at the MS-150, but today, without even thinking too hard about it, the lack of stops and the steady tailwind was putting me on pace to hit Sedalia before noon. Things were going well!
Bob Burns, RBA, looks on as busy cyclists prep for the next leg at Holden's Casey's
PART TWO: Holden to Sedalia
This was an interesting part of the ride, from a scenic perspective. As the faster group had already departed the Holden control after my restroom break, I was getting ansy to get back out there before the legs cooled down too much - there was really no hope of catching them, but I did have them in-sight for most of the length of Highway 58, just over the horizon, and gaining ground with their multiple numbers. It was solo-time again, it seemed, which is fine by me - sometimes. After a control it's hard to keep track of who-is-where on the road, so I went on the assumption that most of them were ahead of me. Still with a mild tailwind, it was easy to maintain pace and I was zipping along at around 20MPH without even thinking too hard about it. Shortly, I turned south on Route F for some nice steep rollers - and I was encouraged to see a "share the road" sign along this seemingly deserted rural road. Odd, but welcome - obviously there is a bicycle club presence out here, as we're getting close to Warrensburg. This must be one of their loops. Before long, I'm turning onto Route "BB", a diagonal road that heads NE straight up into the edge or Warrensburg itself. These roads in Missouri are always good for scenery -- not a straight section road, but a slant, clearly a road to a destination and designed to get around certain geographical hurdles. Twisty and hilly, no doubt. After some good climbing, the road levels out onto sort of a plateau, and I was rewarded with a fantastic view to the Southeast, and I think I could pick out the watertower for Green Ridge, maybe even Windsor, in the distance -- the sky was brilliantly clear, and the sightline was endless. The sun was high already, the tailwind brisk, and the road was nearly perfect. I like this road. The good part about a completely new route is this kind of discovery - new vistas, unfamiliar barns, fields, and the mystery of a road that seems to go on forever. In fact, we're on this particular Route for almost 10 miles, one of the longest stretches of the day on any one road.
Eventually, the fun is over as we roll into Warrensburg, and discover traffic and sprawl. Anyone reading this blog for a while knows that I'm not a huge fan of development in general, but on brevet where I expect to escape some of that element it becomes a little more frustrating. Thankfully, Bob tries to make these sections of route as short as practical, but still there is much traffic. I get to Route "DD", and one of the more scenic portions of the route that goes through Knob Noster State Park - but very unfortunately seems to be a major through-route for just about EVERYONE that lives here. I pass up the Casey's near the highschool, and wave to some riders that have stopped there. I half consider taking a break, too, but the fuel is working and the day is young so I carry onward. This is a good section to start with pre-warmed legs. The first of the long hills comes, and I settle in. UGH, THE TRAFFIC! The small area of shoulder that is available is too narrow and chucked to be safely rideable, so much of the time I'm riding the white line. Cars, trucks, heavy trucks, all whizzing by -- much like a commute in suburban Johnson County, KS, it seems a little more arduous after almost 80 miles or riding. Eventually, however, all things come to an end and the bittersweet section of road is behind me as I turn onto MO-23 to snake around the airbase and transition onto Route "D". Right about here, luck runs out. After being solo for probably two hours, I am caught! I joke about it a little, but the only one laughing is Byron, most of the rest of the group all serious and focused on the task at hand. Hey, that's okay sometimes, too. Byron ended up taking a wrong turn, so he's a little amped up to make up for the lost time - still never in too much of a hurry to exchange a little banter as he pushes over his big gear and advances up the road with the rest of the group. Dale is here, too, this is likely some of the group catching up from the stop at the Casey's in Warrensburg - again the group effort summing up to be faster than the solo. But, still, I notice that it's getting harder to keep up the speeds the longer I'm out here. DRINK! Oh yeah.
Eventually, the 14 miles of Route "Y" are taking their toll - this is the final push into Sedalia, and it's a long one -- I can see the big water-tower which marks the Casey's there, but it seems like I'll never reach it. There are long, steady rollers here, and I'm starting to feel weak -- DRINK! Fool! Adding to the mayhem is the increase in traffic again as the control looms nearer - lot of development, and it seems that this kinda of thing is not limited to my area back home, nearly 120 miles away at this point. Can't escape.
The control is a welcome sight - I roll in and grab a section of sidewalk and proceed with the usual fare of getting water, getting the card signed, etc. It's getting warm, too, so layers are coming off, leg warmers getting stashed, etc. Time also to strap extra layers to the top of the saddlebag to let the sunshine dry them, after a good soaking from the morning fog.
This next section should go quickly -- only 25 miles to the turn-around!
Part Three: Sedalia to Windsor and back
What should have been a short and sweet section for some reason just seems to drag on forEVER. This little piece comprised the longest single piece of road of the entire 400K, Route "B", which we were on for almost 22 miles. That's a long time to be on one piece of road when most of my mental game comprises checking off the turns. This section only had five lines of directions, so this middle section is - mentally - taking forever. Highway "B", however, IS gorgeous -- another long stretch of seamless pavement, not nearly the pavement problems that the highways north of Liberty suffer from, and lot's to look at - large expanses of green grass, fields of cows, sheep, horses. Yes, THIS is America, jack - and America's not boring. However, this section of road was getting old -- and I think it was the headwind. Even though this was an out-n-back route, part of it tracks back west so we were getting a preview of how the entire last half of the ride would probably go. It was neat, though, passing through Green Ridge and doubling back a bit as the route curves, crossing the Katy Trail as it goes. That's still on my list of things to do -- I love these old highways and rural roads because they are off the beaten path -- only locals really use these roads, the rest of America is blasting past everything on 50 highway, or I-70, or I-44 -- but these smaller roads hold treasures for the senses, and a vision of the country that hasn't changed much since the road was originally cut. The Katy Trail offers that same notion to a higher degree. Back in the trees lies a secion of America that only railroad men used to see, and now it's open to the public. No cars, no traffic, no hassles -- just mile after mile of flat road that likely reveals just some fantastic scenery. My bicycle is equipped perfectly for such a journey now, so one of these days I'll ride her. Today, however, there are no shortcuts, no time for detours - I ride past the intersection of the trail and continue on the pavement towards Windsor, at a snails-pace it seems.
Mugging for the camera, the obligatory self-headshot at intersection of "B" and "AA", in the middle of no-where, halfway to Windsor, MO. It's pronounced "Baaaaaaa!"
Finally, the next turn comes and I'm only a couple miles from the turn-around, where I'll take a short rest. Grabbing for my waterbottle, I notice a bizarre fact - the fact that it's nearly half-full still, and I have a complete OTHER bottle. This is not good, dude --- you haven't been drinking enough! At the Casey's, I dismount and take care of business, and proceed to drink a LOT of water -- but I get the impression that it's too little, too late. The heat of the day is here, the first real HEAT of the year, really, and I'm not used to it. Clearly, this is something that I CAN recover from, and I'm aware of the issue, so it's not something I choose to let get the better of me. A long rest, and the format for the rest of the day was going to start panning out. Ed and Dale E. were with me, many of the faster riders had already departed, fully refueled and ready -- no real hurry now - this was the halfway, and every pedal stroke was getting us closer to being finished.
With bottles full, we headed out onto the hot roads of Windsor, pointing west.
The long, endless straight stretch of highway B north of Green Ridge.
This next section, since refueling and topping off the water reserves, seemed to go better - and partly it was because of the aid of the tailwind now that we were headed back east again towards Sedalia. Dale E. (this is confusing... I keep ending up riding with guys whose names sound and spell alike.) was there this time, so there was conversation and someone to stick with - the extra motivation helps a lot. Ed was also in attendance, but he defintely likes a certain pace - a pace that I just wasn't able to hold at the moment. Still, the k's are clicking by, and the day is PERFECT, the heating of the afternoon causing little puffy clouds to pop up and dot the sky, offering a little shade here and there. Excellent conditions, gorgeous sky!
A couple of morale boosts came along towards us on the road, other cyclists that were far behind us, just now getting to where we had been hours before, and I smiled to myself. It was going to be a long day for those folks, and I knew how that felt having been there before - today, even in the face of a growing battle with dehydration, I wasn't doing too awful bad. Finally, civilization was becoming more apparent as we made our way back into Sedalia - and the TRAFFIC!!!! Where was everyone GOING? Again, it was just like a days commute back in town, so I'm ready for it - but just not in the mood for it.
Eventually, past the hoo-haa of the main thruway in town, we're back on highway "Y", and the Casey's is just up the hill. Ugh. Nearly 2/3rd's done! It's hot, and I'm getting tired. Again, my bottles are not empty enough. This is a habit that apparently I've forgotten.
PART FOUR: Sedalia to Holden
Leaving Sedalia was a relief, finally the busy burg was past us. After realizing my water intake problem was still a problem, I had really started to take in more water, but I realized that I was one bottle short for these 50 mile sections. A little note for future rides like this, three bottles is really neccessary - or a small Camelbak: but realistically, with all the luggage I already have on the bike, there is no reason I can't get an extra bottle on there without ading a THIRD bag on my back. Silly. Still, I'd rather have the extra water. SO, knowing there was that handy Casey's about 2/3s of the way back to Holden, it was a good time to start drinking a lot more water. We made our way back, us three, the way we came. The turns came quicker, and my spirits started to come up after reaching the point where I could burp again. Cyclists understand this fact; means digestively that things were coming back online, and I was starting to feel like riding again --- unfortunately, the fatigue of riding on low fluids for almost 160 miles was going to have a few things to say about that.
Yes, once again the hard lessons of rando riding are so oft forgotten by a one... let's call him, Dude. Nice. So it goes, we rode west from Sedalia and made it across highway Y's vast expanse and approached D - all to the glory of a couple of bomber touch-n-go's near the airbase - very cool. Even took the time to shoot a few videos, but just like last time they are in a weird format, and I'm postponing putting them on here until I can get them straightened out a little. Talk about rambling - but the before and after video is PRICELESS. He,he. I'll figure it out. Anyways, highway 23 came and went - with a VERY welcome and LONG downhill... wheeee!!!!! I tell you what, mock the handlebar bag -- but it's actually something of a fairing -- I tuck down deep behind it, with my helmet practically resting on top of it - just barely enough room for my eyes to peek out, thereby eliminating the air-sucking hollow under my chest. I don't think it makes a darn bit o' difference, honestly - but I don't tend to get passed on downhills, and it sure felt fast - and another nice thing is that it kept the camera handy as well as snacks - fig newtons, baby!
Back on highway "DD", my favorite road to hate, with good scenery, decent pavement, endless hills .. and traffic. Freaking traffic. I hate Warrensburg. There I said it. Home to many, a great AFB - but crap, would you people learn some manners behind the wheel?! Where's the love, honestly? Makes me want to eat donuts. So I did.
We hit the Casey's by the high-school, and I was determined to get refueled. I had some potato wedges, and a donut... a GOOD donut with chocolate glaze. Duuuude, that hit the good button. Water, water, water, and I am straight again.... except there is more freakin' Warrensburg to ride thru. Ok, ok, ok. So, we-three elbow our way thru more traffic and get to highway "BB", safety and solitude once again on my kind of road. The donut it working, the water is working - but again the fatigue is making it hard, as is the headwind, to push anything very fast. This is turning into a long day. The sun, also, was beginning to get lower in the sky... ahhh, my favorite time of day. Finally reaching the end of highway BB, and onto highway F - more hills, a random dog, a hairpin turn, and there we were again on highway 58, westbound now -- this was the longest section of straight east-west road, and the best indication that the day was finally coming to a close. Holden itself was still only eight miles away, and the hour of 8:00pm was fast approaching. Sundown. The flashing taillight gets turned on, the headlight flicked on. I call the wife and kids - goodnight wishes - the sun is setting on another 400K, and there are still many miles ahead. Night is coming.... and I am smiling. This is my favorite part...
Part Five: The long march home from Holden
The sun going down, to most, marks of the end of the day. To others, it's simply another chapter in a long ride. Tonite is one of those nights. Ariving at Holden's Casey's just before sundown, the timing was perfect to finish off the last of the preparations for the evening ahead. The last signature finally on the card, it was time to relax, knowing that I now had until 8AM Sunday to finish this puppy. Whew. There is some massive relief in getting the last control on these rides - even though there is still distance left to ride, the journey for all intents is just about over. SO, the card is signed, water bottles filled, snacks bought -- this time, more donuts, two this time, perfect for the last fifty miles back to Grandview, a couple handfuls of Corn Nuts for salty and crunchy satiation, an electrolyte tab for good measure, and a shot of caffiene-impregnated Hammer Gel to keep the senses sharp. Hopefuly for this ride, the sleepies wouldn't be an issue - but just in case. At the very least, caffeine is a great mood enhancer, which never hurts. Weighing heavy on our minds is the long sector of in-town riding, which is always a chore - but thanks to the estimated late hour of arrival, traffic should be at a minimum. Then there is that muther of a hill on Chipman Road.... that'll be "fun" coming right at the 240 mile mark! My legs are already tired, so pushing a gear of any kind up that beast is gonna be interesting.
Final equipment checks, and I'm ready -- but the others are not. Dale is cramping, and Ed's headlight has shot craps. Thankfully, Bob is there again at the control for the neutral support. A little re-crimping on the connector solves the problem, and Ed's Schmidt headlight is ready to beam the road up again. Dale reminds us of the clock, and the previous random goal of finishing before midnight is slipping by, so it's time to move out. We bid farewell to Bob, and head out on MO-58 westbound for home. It's dark. Really dark, but thankfully there is a nice 3/4 full moon overhead to help with the shadowing. Now, my Lumotec is pretty bright - but I haven't ordered new lightbulbs in a while and it was showing. Ed's fairly new lighting system was the same hub and same wattage bulb - but MAN, it was VERY bright compared to mine -- the Schmidt E6 headlight is simply amazing compared directly to my Lumotec, and I'm envious. Easy enough to fix, as I simply add it to the mental list I already have running in my head of things to get/fix before the 600K -- including the saddlebag rack issues that are now making things downright painful. Unfortunately, with a minimalist toolkit, there was not much to be done about that during this ride - nor was there much to be done about the headlamp -- more than sufficient, I carry on - knowing that it's only when surrounded by others that the light pales a little.
The traffic isn't too shabby, even on the state highway - and it's apparent that our visibility packages are working well; the cars that approach from behind slow down well in advance and give a wide berth when passing -- very nice. Tail-lights flashing into the darkness, we are the night cyclists - this is our road - and it shows how nice a ride can be when the rulebook is used as a starting point, instead of being viewed as a nuissance. MO-58 is a great road for a lot of reasons, and as I alluded to earlier in Part One, one of those reasons is the long railroad line that parallels the highway. This U.P. line carries a lot of mixed freight and coal, but is also one of the main east/west lines for Amtrak, and tonite we get a rare treat - It's, after researching, the Ann Rutledge 313 Train finishing it's daily run from Chicago to Kansas City, heading for Lee's Summit with a targeted 9:20PM arrival there. It was going to beat us. It was pretty cool, and even in the dark you could tell it was bright silver, and the business-class cars were brightly lit inside, as it blew its whistle at us three times in short succesion after clearing the crossing, maybe a hello? - but pretty neat in any case. Soon, it's twin red rear lights were out of sight ahead of us. Gotta love a railline that follows along the highway! About 20 minutes later we'd be treated to something a little more normal, but still pretty neat seen from a bicycle saddle at night, another westbound freight heading thru Kingsville and Strasburg alongside us as we pedaled along. The stars were bright, the moon sliding farther behind us, and the road outstretched. Conversation about the day flowed, and we knocked off the remaining turns one at a time as we turned north on highway "E" towards Pleasant Hill. Now I was getting tired - not sleepy, just fatigued and beat from the road. The bike is fantastic, but there are things that are beginning to show up since the passing of the 300K marker. The brake hoods are too low, and everything that Rivendel raves about the Noodle handlebar's (Nitto Model.177) flat ramp are starting to make really good sense. An adjustment is needed back home -- unfortunately, the new handlebar bag's fixments are blocking the stem's fixing bolt, so an on-road adjustment is out of the question especialy after dark against a ticking clock. Next, the gawdforsaken saddlebag rack has GOT to go. My backside is raw for all the wrong reasons - no saddle sores - we've gotten past that - but the saddlebag straps that have been poking at me have forced me to slide forward onto the nose of the saddle for most of the last 80 miles, and now THAT is starting to hurt. Again, on-the-road adjustments of such things are a little dicey. Wasn't a problem on the 300K... but it SURE IS NOW. Other than that, however, I'm cozy: while others in the group are complaining about the cold air at the bottoms of hills since the sun went down, I'm perfectly comfortablein my long-sleeve wool. At least the clothing is correct this time! The conditions, actually, are quite good, and there are not too many complaints at all, even if the valleys are cooling off some. Finally we arrive at highway 150 again, after a LONG day away from it. A little more climbing that I remembered, of course, and eventually we are back at highways 7 and 150, for a quick 3/4 mile sprint to get off the main road. We are lucky -- there is a lull in traffic. The Greenwood, into the southern sections of Lees Summit on Ranson Road (where I insert a useless quip about the only lettered route in Missouri designated by two differing letters, thus highway "RA" -- thanks, Cliff Claven) and finally find our turn onto Bailey Road, which means the last of the rural highway riding is over. With a grunt and a sigh, I'm quite pleased that Ed had ridden past this turn -- I can rest, the excuse being waiting for his return to the proper course -- but honestly I'm beat. The first good yawn of the day hits like a brick -- I'd been awake since 3:00AM, and it was nearing 11:30pm. Milepost 220. Yeesh. This is it - and I didn't even really realize it at the time but this was the point Id know whether or not the ankle was completely healed - this was the exact mileage I'd attained at the Tejas 500 last Ocboter, and today, no problems at all. Wheeeeeew. But, that was the only thing that was in good order -- I had water, I had been drinking plenty - but I was getting TIRED, and the wah-wahs were settling in; you know, those head vibrations from extreme fatigue, sometimes you can artificilly get them at the dentist on "the gas" -- but this was strictly fatigue induced. yeeehaaa... time for more Hammer Gel with caffiene. Gulp -- and 15 minutes later, and a run-down of the next few turns, and we're ready to hit it again. We reach the outskirts of Lees Summit, and start to make our way thru town, zig-zaging over 291 highway, along the frontage roads, and finally reaching Ward Rd., I see Bob again in his van - he waves, headed eastbound, probably back along the route to find the group of five or so riders that are still behind us to meet them at Holden. It'll be a long night for them!
A few turns left and we hit residential, snake our way through, and before long we're on Chipman Road again -- we ride west, and then it's time for the hill. Seriously, I'm not sure it's the steepest I'd ever ridden, because 15th street at the end of the southern-route 400K seems steeper at roughly this same milepoint, but MAN this hill was tough. I show a top speed of 57 MPH on the computer for the descent. I haven't seen numbers like that since Colorado in 2002! The climb up the other side was thankfully NOT that steep of a pitch, but it was long - at least 3/4 mile, maybe more. In the dark, who can tell? - you just keep pushing until the effort drops away, and then you know you are at the top. Finally, the worst mental part of the ride is over! The next sections are all super-familiar to me, a loop around Longview Lake, up to Byars Rd, to 139th and 140th, and then the Philips station at the top of another, smaller, hill. That was it! We were BEAT; DEAD tired. 12:40AM. I managed to get to the top of the hill first, but then waited for Ed and Dale, hoping they'd get the message that we should all finish together after so much time on the road, but it didn't seem to register - we were all pretty strung out, the last section performed at a whopping 12 MPH average. Wow.... Not since 2005's 400K on single speed with near-freezing temps for the last 50 miles was the finish of a ride of this distance SO sweet. And yet, so exhausting! Time to rest, at last....this one is in the bag!!!
Seriously, thanks for reading, and riding along with me... see you for the 600K!
Notes - from one foot in the grave:
Another thing that's interesting -- dehydration.
I've been here before, dehydrated that is, at a clinical-level.
For some reason, occasionally, the conditions are perfect for me to simply dry out like a sponge left in the sun. I hearken back to the ride home from Longview Lake one summer where I managed to finish the RIDE okay, but I neglected to replace any of the fluids I'd lost. Later that night I was in the hospital with a couple of IV's hooked up to me. 3-liters of saline later, I was human again. Dumb.
Later, I drove down to Oklahoma to do Tinbutt in 2005, and pretty much neglected to drink very much the day before. It was HOT. I felt zapped. You, know, feeling "zapped" is usually an indication something is wrong. That's part of the reason that ride went so horridly. Today, as I type this, I have come back from the brink AGAIN. Apparently I was drinking just enough to keep my head (pun intended) above water DURING the ride, but I flat stopped drinking afterwards - I had a chocolate milk, and went to bed. I felt okay on Sunday, the usual stiffness and fatigue - Monday I felt kinda off, and yesterday (Tuesday) I felt downright ill. My stomach wasn't emptying, and I ended up skipping lunch and dinner. Finally occured to me, after drinking 2-quarts of water at work, a Coke (how is THAT smart?), and not feeling any better, that I might have a problem. I started to think about the last time I'd felt this way, and it dawned on me. Might be a little dry, dude. So, on the way home from work I stopped and got a bottle of the "liquid evil". Yes, Gatorade. After blowing this stuff all over the road on various occasions, and watching other riders blow it all over the sidewalk at a control one year, I never drink it DURING a ride - but afterwards, and possibly before for prep, I'm getting the impression that this stuff WORKS. I downed a quart, arrived home - seriously feeling more stiff and worse than I had immediately after the ride. I talked to the wife about it, and I was instructed to stop being a moron and lay down. So I did. I slept like a rock until probably 9pm, waking up occasionally to drink ANOTHER quart of Gatorade that she'd picked up from the store for me. Nice gal. Three quarts of Gatorade, and two quarts of water later, and about 18 trips to the restroom, my legs came back to life, my headache faded, vision stopped bing blurred, and I felt human again. So, seriously -- another lesson learned that I have to pass on: drink. before, during and after. There is defintely a cumulative effect to rides of this distance, and I'm totally at fault for not staying on top of my fluid intake. It's amazing, all the preparations that I had been making, and sometimes I just forget the simple stuff. If you do these rides with nothing else, at least DRINK enough!!!
I'm getting the impression that water and endurolytes might not be quite enough, so I may be tossing in some HEED or Endura on the 600K, just to be sure I'm allowing for assimilation. Meanwhile, I have a very hilly 44-miler this weekend, and the KCCC time-trial Sunday, so I better get myself straight.
See ya next time!
I still know that I have a lot of work left to do, but all of the above realizations have led me to the conclusion that I either want it, or I don't. The time for waffling & citing shallow excuses, and retelling the 'glory days' with the reverence of someone twice my age need to stop. The glory days are not over - I simply lost my way. This year has proven different. Injuries have healed, and the pain of loss has subsided enough to allow a return to normalcy - which has refocused my mind towards a more goal-oriented approach to cycling. Things like gear ratios, number of gears, bags, packing arrangements, and food choices have taken a back-seat to the notions that I simply have something to do: HOW do I want to do it? Instead of making excuses, I've taken up the reigns of action. It's not WHAT fuel, it's simply making sure I'm getting the energy I need to continue riding. Excuses like "the fuel wasn't sitting well" have fallen out of my vocabulary, in the sense that I'm muttering these things after I have switched game-plans and found something that DOES work - rather that moaning about it in the car on the way back to the start location with another DNF. My focus now, at least by attempt, is to take the good with the bad, and know that these rides, these goals I set for myself, are NOT easy ones and I have to be prepared to take the consequences of my choices - good or bad. Otherwise, I should simply not set these goals. I'll stop setting goals when I'm dead, frankly. If one wants to affirm one's life, one has to be prepared for the fact that it ISN'T easy. There will be punctures, crashes, hardships, pain, sores, stiffness, upset stomachs, burnt-out light bulbs, and dehydration. It is how important to you the realization of a goal is that makes the difference and makes the suffering worthwhile. Even the sweetest of ride finishes are never made without some hardship. As is such with life. Simply put, it's why things cost what they do. There is always a price.
This year, differing from the last three, has begun to prove quite satisfying. While sore and tired, I have finished his year's long rides with a smile. The 200K was cold and bleak, with a killer headwind. The 300K, it snowed and rained - but there was a reward. The 400K, completed early this morning at about 12:40 AM, was long, hard, tiresome, and had it's share of ups and downs -- but it was a great success. The biggest indicator I can offer to that effect is that despite stomach distress, a wicked headwind for the about 80 miles of the ride, a LOT more climbing that the old 400K route, and a 30-mile death-march slog for the last endless leg of the ride, I STILL managed to finish only an hour-and-40 off my best time EVER for a 400K, which was 18 hours, in - you guessed it - 2003. Considering I'm personally 35 lbs heavier, on bicycle that easily is 10 lbs heavier than the other bike I did the 18-hours upon, with front and rear saddlebags, full fenders, and a freakin brass bell. On a route that I had never ridden before. I call that a success. Perfect? No. Should it be? No way. But, it's a finish for an event where the ONLY objective IS to finish. I'm really proud of this one, and even though there is a lot of work left to be done with regards to weight loss, I'm currently enjoying leg strength that rivals 2003-levels, a mental toughness that hasn't been around in a while, and equipment savvy that isn't exactly racer-esqe - but purposeful, prepared, and long-day performance oriented. Yeah, I had more baggage on my bicycle than anyone else did, but I didn't finish last -- nor was finishing place ever important. I was comfortable, calm under adversity, and never cramped. I had a fresh change of clothes at the last control, food at hand, and easy access to the route map - in short, the perfect setup for ME. There are a few opportunities for improvements, specifically with regards to the seatpost QR for the saddlebag, or rather its elimination in lieu of a rack that would have the bag lower so its mount doesn't poke my backside with every pedal stroke forcing me to sit on the saddle nose for most of the day -- but that's easy to remedy. Ouch, by the way. Other items for improvement might have included a cooler jersey for the hottest part of the day, but oh well. It really wasn't that bad, and after dark it was perfect.
So, after all that hoo-haa above, and bringing myself and everyone else up to speed, let's get to it, in no less than five parts, the 2007 400K story:
Part One - Grandview to Holden:
The start of the day was nearly perfect, just the way I like it. A little foggy, very little wind, and about 50 degrees. You can almost smell a full day of cycling in the air. With nearly 30 riders in attendance, it was refreshing to be a part of a big PBP year again - even though I can't make it across the pond this year, it's a good feeling to be a part of something that is building in all of these individual riders. You can feel the anticipation, and the conversations are excellent even to be a fly on the wall for - talk of plans, switching bicycle computers from MPH to KMpH, etc. And, finally, for the first time in a while, many of the who's who of local ultra-cycling are back in the hunt. Byron is here -- yeah, no kidding. I hadn't ridden with him since probably 2003 (there's that freaking year again.), and suddenly there he is! Danny "4-hole", "certain kind of misery" - the guy that rode all four 1,200 KM rides in 2005 -- the Gold Rush, BMB, the Cascade 1200, and Last Chance. And finished all four. Yes, kids... we DO suck. Bow down, and eat an egg burrito in honor. Seriously. Ed is here. Jeff is here -- a rare combo of speed and endurance that rivals the likes of Dan Jordan (Jeff ended up finishing at 9pm, barely late enough to justify a headlight!!!) Spencer is here, on the fixxie as usual. The boys from Iowa were here, including Dale on his trademark Steelman bicycle - this time the orange one -- DANG I wouldn't mind having one of those! NICE. It was a good showing. Bob gave the usual run-down, and we were off racing east towards the rising sun - which was still over and hour away.
After some interesting climbing on a detour over on Chipman Road (wow) we were starting to make our way out of town -- the only bad thing about this ride was all of the in-town riding, which seemed to take forever. After many turns, and many intersections, and a little traffic, we were clear - the streetlights fell behind us, and we started to get out of the reach of society. Ranson Rd. brought us into Greenwood, and then we found 150 highway and a clear passage to the east greeted us with the rising sun, and lifting fog - it was turning out to be an awesome morning. As usual, the pack was big at first and then slowly started to thin out a little bit, eventualy breaking into groups of matched riders. The first big hill, and a couple of poorly timed freight trains also played a big part. You know I love trains, and the fly-bys were perfectly timed for my pleasure - I ended up on the correct side of the tracks, but was still close enough to see the action as I rolled on.
Leading out the middle pack, I pause for the over-the-shoulder shot, as Byron and Ed (two bikes with the prominent headlamps) gaze left to watch the sunrise peeking over the fields.
We passed out of Greenwood, and parts of the route started to look familiar -- most of this ride mirrors the KC MS-150 route, which was neat - but also strange, strange to ride these roads without 1000 other bicycles, route control, and the signature Opie's water trucks waiting every ten miles. That last detail was REALLY going to become important later on, as the perfect temperature, the good company, and the rising tailwind was making it difficult to remember the simple things, like drinking. Although it wasn't going to be a gigantic tragedy, it would become a factor later on in the day. Meanwhile, I was taking the time to catch up with Byron, and enjoy the rare opportunity to ride with a larger pack - a big contrast to the usual solo efforts these rides usually end up being. With each passing mile, the conversation flowed, and the speeds seldom droped below 20 MPH - we were all flying along, soaking up the perfect conditions. Even the roadside cows seemed to be smiling at us, as we rode along. It's funny - I remember climbing, but I don't remember the hills. I'd sure remember them about 14 hours later.
Sunrise, eastbound on 150 highway, west of Lone Jack, MO.
The only unfortunate thing about individual pacing, control routines, etc., is that eventually you start to slip from the pack a little. We reached Holden FAST, it seemed - unfortunately I don't have my timecard handy to reference the exact time, but it was still really early in the day. The fast pack arrived WAY early, and I think they were actually already gone by the time I rolled up. Our pack obviously, even though I tried to hurry, seemed to be on a mission for the next control, and while I took a much needed bathroom break, I emerged to see many of the pack already leaving the parking lot of the Holden Casey's. No huge deal, but it's hard to accept the solitude of the road after a few hours of good conversation -- but that only confirms that I still need to shape up and plan my off-bike routines a little.
The ride to Sedalia was next - basically completing the first day of the MS-150 was in the cards with only one stop along the way - not bad. Seems like I've tried and tried in the past for a good result at the MS-150, but today, without even thinking too hard about it, the lack of stops and the steady tailwind was putting me on pace to hit Sedalia before noon. Things were going well!
Bob Burns, RBA, looks on as busy cyclists prep for the next leg at Holden's Casey's
PART TWO: Holden to Sedalia
This was an interesting part of the ride, from a scenic perspective. As the faster group had already departed the Holden control after my restroom break, I was getting ansy to get back out there before the legs cooled down too much - there was really no hope of catching them, but I did have them in-sight for most of the length of Highway 58, just over the horizon, and gaining ground with their multiple numbers. It was solo-time again, it seemed, which is fine by me - sometimes. After a control it's hard to keep track of who-is-where on the road, so I went on the assumption that most of them were ahead of me. Still with a mild tailwind, it was easy to maintain pace and I was zipping along at around 20MPH without even thinking too hard about it. Shortly, I turned south on Route F for some nice steep rollers - and I was encouraged to see a "share the road" sign along this seemingly deserted rural road. Odd, but welcome - obviously there is a bicycle club presence out here, as we're getting close to Warrensburg. This must be one of their loops. Before long, I'm turning onto Route "BB", a diagonal road that heads NE straight up into the edge or Warrensburg itself. These roads in Missouri are always good for scenery -- not a straight section road, but a slant, clearly a road to a destination and designed to get around certain geographical hurdles. Twisty and hilly, no doubt. After some good climbing, the road levels out onto sort of a plateau, and I was rewarded with a fantastic view to the Southeast, and I think I could pick out the watertower for Green Ridge, maybe even Windsor, in the distance -- the sky was brilliantly clear, and the sightline was endless. The sun was high already, the tailwind brisk, and the road was nearly perfect. I like this road. The good part about a completely new route is this kind of discovery - new vistas, unfamiliar barns, fields, and the mystery of a road that seems to go on forever. In fact, we're on this particular Route for almost 10 miles, one of the longest stretches of the day on any one road.
Eventually, the fun is over as we roll into Warrensburg, and discover traffic and sprawl. Anyone reading this blog for a while knows that I'm not a huge fan of development in general, but on brevet where I expect to escape some of that element it becomes a little more frustrating. Thankfully, Bob tries to make these sections of route as short as practical, but still there is much traffic. I get to Route "DD", and one of the more scenic portions of the route that goes through Knob Noster State Park - but very unfortunately seems to be a major through-route for just about EVERYONE that lives here. I pass up the Casey's near the highschool, and wave to some riders that have stopped there. I half consider taking a break, too, but the fuel is working and the day is young so I carry onward. This is a good section to start with pre-warmed legs. The first of the long hills comes, and I settle in. UGH, THE TRAFFIC! The small area of shoulder that is available is too narrow and chucked to be safely rideable, so much of the time I'm riding the white line. Cars, trucks, heavy trucks, all whizzing by -- much like a commute in suburban Johnson County, KS, it seems a little more arduous after almost 80 miles or riding. Eventually, however, all things come to an end and the bittersweet section of road is behind me as I turn onto MO-23 to snake around the airbase and transition onto Route "D". Right about here, luck runs out. After being solo for probably two hours, I am caught! I joke about it a little, but the only one laughing is Byron, most of the rest of the group all serious and focused on the task at hand. Hey, that's okay sometimes, too. Byron ended up taking a wrong turn, so he's a little amped up to make up for the lost time - still never in too much of a hurry to exchange a little banter as he pushes over his big gear and advances up the road with the rest of the group. Dale is here, too, this is likely some of the group catching up from the stop at the Casey's in Warrensburg - again the group effort summing up to be faster than the solo. But, still, I notice that it's getting harder to keep up the speeds the longer I'm out here. DRINK! Oh yeah.
Eventually, the 14 miles of Route "Y" are taking their toll - this is the final push into Sedalia, and it's a long one -- I can see the big water-tower which marks the Casey's there, but it seems like I'll never reach it. There are long, steady rollers here, and I'm starting to feel weak -- DRINK! Fool! Adding to the mayhem is the increase in traffic again as the control looms nearer - lot of development, and it seems that this kinda of thing is not limited to my area back home, nearly 120 miles away at this point. Can't escape.
The control is a welcome sight - I roll in and grab a section of sidewalk and proceed with the usual fare of getting water, getting the card signed, etc. It's getting warm, too, so layers are coming off, leg warmers getting stashed, etc. Time also to strap extra layers to the top of the saddlebag to let the sunshine dry them, after a good soaking from the morning fog.
This next section should go quickly -- only 25 miles to the turn-around!
Part Three: Sedalia to Windsor and back
What should have been a short and sweet section for some reason just seems to drag on forEVER. This little piece comprised the longest single piece of road of the entire 400K, Route "B", which we were on for almost 22 miles. That's a long time to be on one piece of road when most of my mental game comprises checking off the turns. This section only had five lines of directions, so this middle section is - mentally - taking forever. Highway "B", however, IS gorgeous -- another long stretch of seamless pavement, not nearly the pavement problems that the highways north of Liberty suffer from, and lot's to look at - large expanses of green grass, fields of cows, sheep, horses. Yes, THIS is America, jack - and America's not boring. However, this section of road was getting old -- and I think it was the headwind. Even though this was an out-n-back route, part of it tracks back west so we were getting a preview of how the entire last half of the ride would probably go. It was neat, though, passing through Green Ridge and doubling back a bit as the route curves, crossing the Katy Trail as it goes. That's still on my list of things to do -- I love these old highways and rural roads because they are off the beaten path -- only locals really use these roads, the rest of America is blasting past everything on 50 highway, or I-70, or I-44 -- but these smaller roads hold treasures for the senses, and a vision of the country that hasn't changed much since the road was originally cut. The Katy Trail offers that same notion to a higher degree. Back in the trees lies a secion of America that only railroad men used to see, and now it's open to the public. No cars, no traffic, no hassles -- just mile after mile of flat road that likely reveals just some fantastic scenery. My bicycle is equipped perfectly for such a journey now, so one of these days I'll ride her. Today, however, there are no shortcuts, no time for detours - I ride past the intersection of the trail and continue on the pavement towards Windsor, at a snails-pace it seems.
Mugging for the camera, the obligatory self-headshot at intersection of "B" and "AA", in the middle of no-where, halfway to Windsor, MO. It's pronounced "Baaaaaaa!"
Finally, the next turn comes and I'm only a couple miles from the turn-around, where I'll take a short rest. Grabbing for my waterbottle, I notice a bizarre fact - the fact that it's nearly half-full still, and I have a complete OTHER bottle. This is not good, dude --- you haven't been drinking enough! At the Casey's, I dismount and take care of business, and proceed to drink a LOT of water -- but I get the impression that it's too little, too late. The heat of the day is here, the first real HEAT of the year, really, and I'm not used to it. Clearly, this is something that I CAN recover from, and I'm aware of the issue, so it's not something I choose to let get the better of me. A long rest, and the format for the rest of the day was going to start panning out. Ed and Dale E. were with me, many of the faster riders had already departed, fully refueled and ready -- no real hurry now - this was the halfway, and every pedal stroke was getting us closer to being finished.
With bottles full, we headed out onto the hot roads of Windsor, pointing west.
The long, endless straight stretch of highway B north of Green Ridge.
This next section, since refueling and topping off the water reserves, seemed to go better - and partly it was because of the aid of the tailwind now that we were headed back east again towards Sedalia. Dale E. (this is confusing... I keep ending up riding with guys whose names sound and spell alike.) was there this time, so there was conversation and someone to stick with - the extra motivation helps a lot. Ed was also in attendance, but he defintely likes a certain pace - a pace that I just wasn't able to hold at the moment. Still, the k's are clicking by, and the day is PERFECT, the heating of the afternoon causing little puffy clouds to pop up and dot the sky, offering a little shade here and there. Excellent conditions, gorgeous sky!
A couple of morale boosts came along towards us on the road, other cyclists that were far behind us, just now getting to where we had been hours before, and I smiled to myself. It was going to be a long day for those folks, and I knew how that felt having been there before - today, even in the face of a growing battle with dehydration, I wasn't doing too awful bad. Finally, civilization was becoming more apparent as we made our way back into Sedalia - and the TRAFFIC!!!! Where was everyone GOING? Again, it was just like a days commute back in town, so I'm ready for it - but just not in the mood for it.
Eventually, past the hoo-haa of the main thruway in town, we're back on highway "Y", and the Casey's is just up the hill. Ugh. Nearly 2/3rd's done! It's hot, and I'm getting tired. Again, my bottles are not empty enough. This is a habit that apparently I've forgotten.
PART FOUR: Sedalia to Holden
Leaving Sedalia was a relief, finally the busy burg was past us. After realizing my water intake problem was still a problem, I had really started to take in more water, but I realized that I was one bottle short for these 50 mile sections. A little note for future rides like this, three bottles is really neccessary - or a small Camelbak: but realistically, with all the luggage I already have on the bike, there is no reason I can't get an extra bottle on there without ading a THIRD bag on my back. Silly. Still, I'd rather have the extra water. SO, knowing there was that handy Casey's about 2/3s of the way back to Holden, it was a good time to start drinking a lot more water. We made our way back, us three, the way we came. The turns came quicker, and my spirits started to come up after reaching the point where I could burp again. Cyclists understand this fact; means digestively that things were coming back online, and I was starting to feel like riding again --- unfortunately, the fatigue of riding on low fluids for almost 160 miles was going to have a few things to say about that.
Yes, once again the hard lessons of rando riding are so oft forgotten by a one... let's call him, Dude. Nice. So it goes, we rode west from Sedalia and made it across highway Y's vast expanse and approached D - all to the glory of a couple of bomber touch-n-go's near the airbase - very cool. Even took the time to shoot a few videos, but just like last time they are in a weird format, and I'm postponing putting them on here until I can get them straightened out a little. Talk about rambling - but the before and after video is PRICELESS. He,he. I'll figure it out. Anyways, highway 23 came and went - with a VERY welcome and LONG downhill... wheeee!!!!! I tell you what, mock the handlebar bag -- but it's actually something of a fairing -- I tuck down deep behind it, with my helmet practically resting on top of it - just barely enough room for my eyes to peek out, thereby eliminating the air-sucking hollow under my chest. I don't think it makes a darn bit o' difference, honestly - but I don't tend to get passed on downhills, and it sure felt fast - and another nice thing is that it kept the camera handy as well as snacks - fig newtons, baby!
Back on highway "DD", my favorite road to hate, with good scenery, decent pavement, endless hills .. and traffic. Freaking traffic. I hate Warrensburg. There I said it. Home to many, a great AFB - but crap, would you people learn some manners behind the wheel?! Where's the love, honestly? Makes me want to eat donuts. So I did.
We hit the Casey's by the high-school, and I was determined to get refueled. I had some potato wedges, and a donut... a GOOD donut with chocolate glaze. Duuuude, that hit the good button. Water, water, water, and I am straight again.... except there is more freakin' Warrensburg to ride thru. Ok, ok, ok. So, we-three elbow our way thru more traffic and get to highway "BB", safety and solitude once again on my kind of road. The donut it working, the water is working - but again the fatigue is making it hard, as is the headwind, to push anything very fast. This is turning into a long day. The sun, also, was beginning to get lower in the sky... ahhh, my favorite time of day. Finally reaching the end of highway BB, and onto highway F - more hills, a random dog, a hairpin turn, and there we were again on highway 58, westbound now -- this was the longest section of straight east-west road, and the best indication that the day was finally coming to a close. Holden itself was still only eight miles away, and the hour of 8:00pm was fast approaching. Sundown. The flashing taillight gets turned on, the headlight flicked on. I call the wife and kids - goodnight wishes - the sun is setting on another 400K, and there are still many miles ahead. Night is coming.... and I am smiling. This is my favorite part...
Part Five: The long march home from Holden
The sun going down, to most, marks of the end of the day. To others, it's simply another chapter in a long ride. Tonite is one of those nights. Ariving at Holden's Casey's just before sundown, the timing was perfect to finish off the last of the preparations for the evening ahead. The last signature finally on the card, it was time to relax, knowing that I now had until 8AM Sunday to finish this puppy. Whew. There is some massive relief in getting the last control on these rides - even though there is still distance left to ride, the journey for all intents is just about over. SO, the card is signed, water bottles filled, snacks bought -- this time, more donuts, two this time, perfect for the last fifty miles back to Grandview, a couple handfuls of Corn Nuts for salty and crunchy satiation, an electrolyte tab for good measure, and a shot of caffiene-impregnated Hammer Gel to keep the senses sharp. Hopefuly for this ride, the sleepies wouldn't be an issue - but just in case. At the very least, caffeine is a great mood enhancer, which never hurts. Weighing heavy on our minds is the long sector of in-town riding, which is always a chore - but thanks to the estimated late hour of arrival, traffic should be at a minimum. Then there is that muther of a hill on Chipman Road.... that'll be "fun" coming right at the 240 mile mark! My legs are already tired, so pushing a gear of any kind up that beast is gonna be interesting.
Final equipment checks, and I'm ready -- but the others are not. Dale is cramping, and Ed's headlight has shot craps. Thankfully, Bob is there again at the control for the neutral support. A little re-crimping on the connector solves the problem, and Ed's Schmidt headlight is ready to beam the road up again. Dale reminds us of the clock, and the previous random goal of finishing before midnight is slipping by, so it's time to move out. We bid farewell to Bob, and head out on MO-58 westbound for home. It's dark. Really dark, but thankfully there is a nice 3/4 full moon overhead to help with the shadowing. Now, my Lumotec is pretty bright - but I haven't ordered new lightbulbs in a while and it was showing. Ed's fairly new lighting system was the same hub and same wattage bulb - but MAN, it was VERY bright compared to mine -- the Schmidt E6 headlight is simply amazing compared directly to my Lumotec, and I'm envious. Easy enough to fix, as I simply add it to the mental list I already have running in my head of things to get/fix before the 600K -- including the saddlebag rack issues that are now making things downright painful. Unfortunately, with a minimalist toolkit, there was not much to be done about that during this ride - nor was there much to be done about the headlamp -- more than sufficient, I carry on - knowing that it's only when surrounded by others that the light pales a little.
The traffic isn't too shabby, even on the state highway - and it's apparent that our visibility packages are working well; the cars that approach from behind slow down well in advance and give a wide berth when passing -- very nice. Tail-lights flashing into the darkness, we are the night cyclists - this is our road - and it shows how nice a ride can be when the rulebook is used as a starting point, instead of being viewed as a nuissance. MO-58 is a great road for a lot of reasons, and as I alluded to earlier in Part One, one of those reasons is the long railroad line that parallels the highway. This U.P. line carries a lot of mixed freight and coal, but is also one of the main east/west lines for Amtrak, and tonite we get a rare treat - It's, after researching, the Ann Rutledge 313 Train finishing it's daily run from Chicago to Kansas City, heading for Lee's Summit with a targeted 9:20PM arrival there. It was going to beat us. It was pretty cool, and even in the dark you could tell it was bright silver, and the business-class cars were brightly lit inside, as it blew its whistle at us three times in short succesion after clearing the crossing, maybe a hello? - but pretty neat in any case. Soon, it's twin red rear lights were out of sight ahead of us. Gotta love a railline that follows along the highway! About 20 minutes later we'd be treated to something a little more normal, but still pretty neat seen from a bicycle saddle at night, another westbound freight heading thru Kingsville and Strasburg alongside us as we pedaled along. The stars were bright, the moon sliding farther behind us, and the road outstretched. Conversation about the day flowed, and we knocked off the remaining turns one at a time as we turned north on highway "E" towards Pleasant Hill. Now I was getting tired - not sleepy, just fatigued and beat from the road. The bike is fantastic, but there are things that are beginning to show up since the passing of the 300K marker. The brake hoods are too low, and everything that Rivendel raves about the Noodle handlebar's (Nitto Model.177) flat ramp are starting to make really good sense. An adjustment is needed back home -- unfortunately, the new handlebar bag's fixments are blocking the stem's fixing bolt, so an on-road adjustment is out of the question especialy after dark against a ticking clock. Next, the gawdforsaken saddlebag rack has GOT to go. My backside is raw for all the wrong reasons - no saddle sores - we've gotten past that - but the saddlebag straps that have been poking at me have forced me to slide forward onto the nose of the saddle for most of the last 80 miles, and now THAT is starting to hurt. Again, on-the-road adjustments of such things are a little dicey. Wasn't a problem on the 300K... but it SURE IS NOW. Other than that, however, I'm cozy: while others in the group are complaining about the cold air at the bottoms of hills since the sun went down, I'm perfectly comfortablein my long-sleeve wool. At least the clothing is correct this time! The conditions, actually, are quite good, and there are not too many complaints at all, even if the valleys are cooling off some. Finally we arrive at highway 150 again, after a LONG day away from it. A little more climbing that I remembered, of course, and eventually we are back at highways 7 and 150, for a quick 3/4 mile sprint to get off the main road. We are lucky -- there is a lull in traffic. The Greenwood, into the southern sections of Lees Summit on Ranson Road (where I insert a useless quip about the only lettered route in Missouri designated by two differing letters, thus highway "RA" -- thanks, Cliff Claven) and finally find our turn onto Bailey Road, which means the last of the rural highway riding is over. With a grunt and a sigh, I'm quite pleased that Ed had ridden past this turn -- I can rest, the excuse being waiting for his return to the proper course -- but honestly I'm beat. The first good yawn of the day hits like a brick -- I'd been awake since 3:00AM, and it was nearing 11:30pm. Milepost 220. Yeesh. This is it - and I didn't even really realize it at the time but this was the point Id know whether or not the ankle was completely healed - this was the exact mileage I'd attained at the Tejas 500 last Ocboter, and today, no problems at all. Wheeeeeew. But, that was the only thing that was in good order -- I had water, I had been drinking plenty - but I was getting TIRED, and the wah-wahs were settling in; you know, those head vibrations from extreme fatigue, sometimes you can artificilly get them at the dentist on "the gas" -- but this was strictly fatigue induced. yeeehaaa... time for more Hammer Gel with caffiene. Gulp -- and 15 minutes later, and a run-down of the next few turns, and we're ready to hit it again. We reach the outskirts of Lees Summit, and start to make our way thru town, zig-zaging over 291 highway, along the frontage roads, and finally reaching Ward Rd., I see Bob again in his van - he waves, headed eastbound, probably back along the route to find the group of five or so riders that are still behind us to meet them at Holden. It'll be a long night for them!
A few turns left and we hit residential, snake our way through, and before long we're on Chipman Road again -- we ride west, and then it's time for the hill. Seriously, I'm not sure it's the steepest I'd ever ridden, because 15th street at the end of the southern-route 400K seems steeper at roughly this same milepoint, but MAN this hill was tough. I show a top speed of 57 MPH on the computer for the descent. I haven't seen numbers like that since Colorado in 2002! The climb up the other side was thankfully NOT that steep of a pitch, but it was long - at least 3/4 mile, maybe more. In the dark, who can tell? - you just keep pushing until the effort drops away, and then you know you are at the top. Finally, the worst mental part of the ride is over! The next sections are all super-familiar to me, a loop around Longview Lake, up to Byars Rd, to 139th and 140th, and then the Philips station at the top of another, smaller, hill. That was it! We were BEAT; DEAD tired. 12:40AM. I managed to get to the top of the hill first, but then waited for Ed and Dale, hoping they'd get the message that we should all finish together after so much time on the road, but it didn't seem to register - we were all pretty strung out, the last section performed at a whopping 12 MPH average. Wow.... Not since 2005's 400K on single speed with near-freezing temps for the last 50 miles was the finish of a ride of this distance SO sweet. And yet, so exhausting! Time to rest, at last....this one is in the bag!!!
Seriously, thanks for reading, and riding along with me... see you for the 600K!
Notes - from one foot in the grave:
Another thing that's interesting -- dehydration.
I've been here before, dehydrated that is, at a clinical-level.
For some reason, occasionally, the conditions are perfect for me to simply dry out like a sponge left in the sun. I hearken back to the ride home from Longview Lake one summer where I managed to finish the RIDE okay, but I neglected to replace any of the fluids I'd lost. Later that night I was in the hospital with a couple of IV's hooked up to me. 3-liters of saline later, I was human again. Dumb.
Later, I drove down to Oklahoma to do Tinbutt in 2005, and pretty much neglected to drink very much the day before. It was HOT. I felt zapped. You, know, feeling "zapped" is usually an indication something is wrong. That's part of the reason that ride went so horridly. Today, as I type this, I have come back from the brink AGAIN. Apparently I was drinking just enough to keep my head (pun intended) above water DURING the ride, but I flat stopped drinking afterwards - I had a chocolate milk, and went to bed. I felt okay on Sunday, the usual stiffness and fatigue - Monday I felt kinda off, and yesterday (Tuesday) I felt downright ill. My stomach wasn't emptying, and I ended up skipping lunch and dinner. Finally occured to me, after drinking 2-quarts of water at work, a Coke (how is THAT smart?), and not feeling any better, that I might have a problem. I started to think about the last time I'd felt this way, and it dawned on me. Might be a little dry, dude. So, on the way home from work I stopped and got a bottle of the "liquid evil". Yes, Gatorade. After blowing this stuff all over the road on various occasions, and watching other riders blow it all over the sidewalk at a control one year, I never drink it DURING a ride - but afterwards, and possibly before for prep, I'm getting the impression that this stuff WORKS. I downed a quart, arrived home - seriously feeling more stiff and worse than I had immediately after the ride. I talked to the wife about it, and I was instructed to stop being a moron and lay down. So I did. I slept like a rock until probably 9pm, waking up occasionally to drink ANOTHER quart of Gatorade that she'd picked up from the store for me. Nice gal. Three quarts of Gatorade, and two quarts of water later, and about 18 trips to the restroom, my legs came back to life, my headache faded, vision stopped bing blurred, and I felt human again. So, seriously -- another lesson learned that I have to pass on: drink. before, during and after. There is defintely a cumulative effect to rides of this distance, and I'm totally at fault for not staying on top of my fluid intake. It's amazing, all the preparations that I had been making, and sometimes I just forget the simple stuff. If you do these rides with nothing else, at least DRINK enough!!!
I'm getting the impression that water and endurolytes might not be quite enough, so I may be tossing in some HEED or Endura on the 600K, just to be sure I'm allowing for assimilation. Meanwhile, I have a very hilly 44-miler this weekend, and the KCCC time-trial Sunday, so I better get myself straight.
See ya next time!
April 26, 2007
The beast beckons
Spring is actually seeming to stick around lately, save for this morning's foray into the upper 40's temps again, after a really hearty round of storms. The grasses are REALLY green now, and there is that smell around... and with it some of the usual sniffles and occasional hayfever headache. Ugh. More coffee! Actually, with summer not far behind, it's time to rediscover tea, most likely.... but either way.
Stepping right along is my seasonal shifting of the bicycles, where I start to wonder why I took certain things apart the previous year, etc. After a winter with the messenger bag keeping my back toasty, it's now time to swap back over to the 70+ degrees formula of saddlebag mode. That is, of course, if I can find the parts from the mount from last year. After I quick cal to Harris Cyclery, I find them (sorta.). Turns out they magically regenerated themselves in the parts bin of the bike shop. Weird! So, I'm all set for spring-into-summer riding again!
Come fall no doubt, I'll probably wonder why I ever stopped riding with the messenger bag. Silly dualist.
This weekend is the 400K brevet, and I'm VERY excited about this one for a couple reasons; number one, it probably WON'T be raining, and it will actually be warm! Not only will it be above freezing, it should be WELL above freezing at the start, too! Shocker!!! Seriously, anything short of a major hail-storm and I'd be happy, after a huge addition to the I've-had-worse file two weeks ago. That certainly turned out to be a great ride, but my complaining about weather conditions is pretty much a thing of the past. Another reason to be excited is a new route, which can sometimes carry a little scepter of its own -- it's been several years since the navigation aspect of randonnuering had to be utilized, so it ought to be a tale rife with terms like "got lost" and "5-mile detour".
The next 36 hours will be full of clothing choices, bag-packing, and carb-loading, so stay tuned for the 400K report, complete with a decent video accompanyment. Assuming I remember to bring the camera!
Stepping right along is my seasonal shifting of the bicycles, where I start to wonder why I took certain things apart the previous year, etc. After a winter with the messenger bag keeping my back toasty, it's now time to swap back over to the 70+ degrees formula of saddlebag mode. That is, of course, if I can find the parts from the mount from last year. After I quick cal to Harris Cyclery, I find them (sorta.). Turns out they magically regenerated themselves in the parts bin of the bike shop. Weird! So, I'm all set for spring-into-summer riding again!
Come fall no doubt, I'll probably wonder why I ever stopped riding with the messenger bag. Silly dualist.
This weekend is the 400K brevet, and I'm VERY excited about this one for a couple reasons; number one, it probably WON'T be raining, and it will actually be warm! Not only will it be above freezing, it should be WELL above freezing at the start, too! Shocker!!! Seriously, anything short of a major hail-storm and I'd be happy, after a huge addition to the I've-had-worse file two weeks ago. That certainly turned out to be a great ride, but my complaining about weather conditions is pretty much a thing of the past. Another reason to be excited is a new route, which can sometimes carry a little scepter of its own -- it's been several years since the navigation aspect of randonnuering had to be utilized, so it ought to be a tale rife with terms like "got lost" and "5-mile detour".
The next 36 hours will be full of clothing choices, bag-packing, and carb-loading, so stay tuned for the 400K report, complete with a decent video accompanyment. Assuming I remember to bring the camera!
April 16, 2007
Permutation of asperity realized - the 2007 300K brevet
The front finally passes...
OKAY... Let's get to the story...
Standing at my favorite spot on the planet. Once again, the intersection of highways A and Z in rural Gentry County Missouri. I was about to turn north into the nastiest headwind in years. The last time I was here was in 2005, and I was in short sleeves. This time, it was barely 40 degrees, with a 22 MPH north wind.
Ladies and fellow ultra-distance freaks... the 300K report:
First and foremost, a couple of notes -- just getting them down in print so I remember them - because as you know, some of this blog is for my own record keeping.
So, handlebar bag. I have been in this territory before, but it was a cheapy handlebar bag that took up most of the bar itself, instead of being held out away from the bag. I simply don't have the backpocket space to support the amount of calories and REAL food that I've been carrying on brevet lately. While entertaining the very leading edge of a bonk, I got smart and stopped the bike to fish some more grub out of the saddlebag. With a bag - a GOOD bag - right in front of me, I can load it with snacks, Hammer Gel flasks, crackers, whatever, and continue riding, without cooling down the legs or burning clock. Sometimes it's good to take a rest -- sometimes, however, when you're being dumb and weighing continuing riding vs. that pain in your gut - it's time to find a solution. Add in the bonuses of a nice place to stash a camera, maybe a radio, a place to hold maps, a place to stash extra layers if the back pockets are already full, etc. It's a good idea, so we'll give it a shot.
That's really it for gear notes, tho. Everything else worked PERFECTLY, which is code for - HEY, Dude: don't change anything!!!
Now, the ride itself:
This was one of the most nasty rides I've ever started, weather-wise. I'll put it that way.
This has been an interesting year for that kind of thing, honestly. The First C'Dude ride on March 3rd, as you've all read before here, was COLD and snowing. But, it was light, and really didn't pose too much of a threat. Ok, until Woodland Road. Whatever. Then a string of warm rides, a cancellation of another horrid C'Dude Ride, and then the week of torment and second guessing that started with a phone call from the RBA, Bob, on Thursday night. SNOW??? In mid April???
Yup - apparently so, and this time the forecasters were indeed correct. This was gonna be just nuts. Snow is one thing -- snow on BREVET? In the northland? In rural Missouri? On the VERY route where in 2002 I had the WORST day on a bike for me, EVER??? What was I thinking??? I mean, I'm not going to Paris, right? I don't REALLY need to do this ride, right? The conversations started, the panic, the emails, figuring out the schedules -- Bob was offering a rare opportunity to complete this ride on Sunday, if we wanted to. The forecast for Sunday was a cold start, and warming to the mid 60's. ANd, looking back as I type this on MOnday night, THAT forecast ALSO panned out -- Sunday was gorgeous.
What was I gonna do here? From one side, there was the "you've had worse, are you a randonnuer, or a rather-not?" internal conversation... then there was the, "you fool, don't pres your luck - you almost died up there in 2002, and you're gonna go for it in WORSE weather? TAke the out and ride Sunday!"
What am I gluton for punishment? I was gonna ride this thing -- I just wasn't sure when, and I had support from either end. It was up to me.
In the garage Thursday night, after talking to Bob on the phone about it, I continued my routine of getting things ready. Tires look good, spare tubes are still fresh, not dried out or cracked, patches are plentiful, Fiber-Fix spoke looks good, flashlight, multi-tool, tire lever, cheese whiz, WD40, zip-ties, wire hangers, etc. Check, check, check, check, check... uhhhh..... yeah. All the usual stuff, packed and ready in my Carradice bag. Chain lubed. Skipped the usual "make bike pretty" pre-ride wipe-down. It was gonna get sloppy. Thank goodness for fenders!
I was ready. I went to bed Friday morning, and said to myself "just check the weather in the morning, and see what's happening up there." I reminded myself that no matter what I would see outside the door Saturday night, it was probably NOT like that up north. Don't be reactionary.
The alarm clock rang at 3:30AM, and I crawled out of bed - in usual pre-brevet fashion: almost JUMPING out of bed, in hard contrast to the usual snooze-repeat routine of waking up for work. I carefully walked over to the window, and parted the shades... snow. Yup. They were right. Still coming down, and there are tracks in the streets. For some reason, I didn't do what I thought I might do - that constant duality didn't kick in like it had so many times in the past. I went to the kitchen, grabbed my drink bag out of the fridge, poured my coffee into a water bottle of Sustained Energy and Hammer Gel for my wake-up cup, and went downstairs to shower. Thirty minutes later, I was all suited up, and opening the garage. There was at least 3 inches of heavy, wet slushy snow on the driveway. I've never loaded he bike onto the roof of the car in weirder conditions. Never. I took a long swig of coffee, and started the car for the drive north. I never looked back.
I don't know if it's age, knowledge, preparedness, the mental portion of the yoga I've been taking, the meds, or just finally arriving in a really good, solid place: but the voices were silent. FINALLY. I was actually looking forward to this. I only know why in retrospect. At the time, there was no reason visible for me to be thriled about riding in the present conditions - but I drove, slush slapping the underside of the car, listened to music, and sipped coffee.
I was 5:10AM, and there I sat, with Bob Burns in his van, getting my brevet card and map, and a couple of plastic bags. Tim sat up front, chatting up Bob on PBP. So far, and quite oddly, we were the ONLY two riders present. Normally, less than an hour from the start of a ride of this caliber, people are here getting stuff ready, pumping tires, etc. I asked Bob how many he had contact him about riding Sunday instead, and he replied "five...there are supposed to be 22 riders here today."
I was shocked -- I knew randonnuers were hearty folk, but I was more surprised to not see the parking lot reflect the number of pre-registered riders. This is a Paris year, and these are must-finish rides. If you don't have the ire to ride in THIS stuff, well... don't buy your plane tickets yet. The conditions were not that bad -- the farther north I'd come on the drive, the moe the snow thined out, and now in Liberty it was just rain - but it was a thick, soaking, cold rain with the temperature hovering around 34 degrees. Snow would have been one thing, but this was just rain - and my spirits were already calmed. I thought to myself that I might just go home and come back Sunday, but it was only because I really didn't want to do this ride alone. Tim is faster than I am, and I knew how things would pan out. Regardless of intent, it's hard to keep riders together over these distances. Pace is personal.
A few minutes later, a familiar truck pulls up, and inside are Spencer and Jack. Jack I had ridden with before, probably a couple years back, but again a victim of pace, it wasn't for very long as he quite the hammer - even at distance. Spencer is the consummate randonnuer. Wool. Good bags. Experience. FIXED GEAR. This guy is *IT*. I don't owe him any favors, either, kids -- if you ride alongside him, LISTEN.
You'll learn something.
This would be it. It was 5:30AM, and this was it. Out of 22 sign-ups, there were FOUR riders here. So, here *I* am, a rider with a spotty performance record in the past and a poor ration of personal pride heading out into the dark, cold rain with three solid, strong and proven randonneurs. Wow. This was pretty cool, indeed! With the usual fanfare, Bob saw us off, and in a flash we were on the other side of the main road and onto the route. The rain, and wind, were steady. For once, learning from all the past mistakes, I was comfortable, however; I have to tell you - comfortable brevets that go exactly to plan don't make good stories. Randonnuering is about hard-charging cyclists that don't take words like "can't" and "hard" and "suffering" too seriously. This ride is famous for changing people. It had already changed me once before. I respect this ride, the terrain, the route.
Us four made our way "out of civiliation" after crossing underneath I-35 on Plattsburg Road -- the road narrows, drops between the tree lines, and that's it. YOu're out of town. Tire spray, rain, cold wind, but a good group with good lights and good spirits - the conversations were already beginning.
It's really nice when everything sorta falls together. The memories of last falls' ankle injury still occasionally make me wonder, but the bike fit is now perfect and it is SUCH a difference. When I want to push, the bike responds, and the joints are happy. But, I'm still watchful, and thankful for a good recovery. The gear and equipment, all in the bag and there for a reason, puts my mind at ease. Even a change of shorts, extra wool gloves - the little things that don't take up to much room, but can make a WORLD of difference later - they set my mind at ease. For once, the distance ahead is not a burden, even with the rain.
I'm more thankful as the ride continues, as Jack gets the first flat tire of the day. With an offer of help refused, I carry onward -- it's one of those things that I sometimes feel bad about, but each one of us knows what to pack, how to hange a tire, etc., and four hands are not neccessarily beter than two in these cases. We all stick to our routines, and we get back on the road.
We are soon north of the 200K route, turning north on Route "Y" towards Stewartsville, about 16 miles to the north. This is the section of road that about 9 hours later I would film a couple of ridiculous videos. he,he. For now, it was all business. The rain was beginning to lighten, but the wind was picking up to take it's place on the hardship board. As we began to pull farther and farther away from the lines of trees to the south, the wind had less and less to inhibit it, and my speed was beginning to suffer. Draft? Not today. Randonnuers don't generaly like to draft - it's a matter of pride, unless by agreement you do good rotations of one or two mile pulls, or you are helping a rider that is having a bad day -- but generally, we are out there to prove something to ourselves - so we'd rather ride side by side and talk, rather than take the easier road.
Still, whether I wanted to or not - there are only four of us up here, and Tim and Spencer are a ways up the road already, having a strong morning. When nature calls, you have to let the group go, so I did at Plattsburg. Eventually, I would catch up to Tim, only to have him pull away again - all the while Spencer's bright taillight teasing me from two miles up, maybe more. Then, Spencer gets a flat - so we all regroup. Eentually, we all get to Stewartsville within a few minutes of each other, and it's a decent showing. 9:20AM -- not bad... not the 8:30am that I pulled off in 2005 (probably a south wind), but it'll do for today. Fuel, water -- WATER!!! -- cards signed, and we're off again. This next stretch is a doozey. Nearly 50 miles to Albany, MO, and the halfway point -- and it's a LONG 50-miles. No services, period. Barely any buildings. It's LONELY, and as Spencer said best, "this ride takes a lot of patience." The brain wanders, and things like self-doubt can creep in in you're not careful.
As we leave the safety of Stewartsville behind us and turn onto highway "N" northbound, the wind once again reminds us who's boss. The pavement this year is pretty good, actually - repaved since 2005, obviously. Once again, the group is together, and Spencer and I set up shop in a two-abreast fashion, helping Tim (if I recall correctly) for a bit. The rain has yielded, finally, and I finally have the rain jacket packed up - but the wind has me still layered up against the elements.
Water, electrolyte tabs -- yes, even when it's cold, you sweat and lose fluid -- and peanut butter crackers pass my lips now on a regular basis, as the mileage mounts. This is, as I said, a long, lonely section of the ride here. The BIG middle, nearly 100 miles with one stop at Albany, if you chose to view it that way. I'm not sure how I've become mentally able to handle this section, but it's become easier over the years. Today is no exception - but I dare not take it for granted. Only 5 years earlier, I was having quite a rough time of things right about now.
Soon, we were on highway "H", and the pre-advertised "bad" section of pavement. bob delivers. It's pretty bad, in desperate need of a repave. Thank goodness for wide tires. Again, the lessons of the past gaining favor in the eyes of adversity.
After what seems like an eternity on this one road, the turn onto "Z" finally comes, after a quick rest near the very confusing intersections of H, E and Z. I think A is in there, too. Ugh. Would someone give Missouri a couple of numbered signs?
Please? Yeesh. A few crackers, water, and a stretch, and getting an extra layer off my head, and I'm back on the case again -- now alone, having lost track of Spencer as he dealt with his third flat tire, and losing Tim off the back somewhere, too. Jack passes me eventually, asking if I'm okay, and he's off in front by at least a mile in what seems like no time at all. He's the strongman today -- good thing it's not a race, because moves like that can sometimes be a big mental blow.
Carry on -- Alone again, on one of the hardest sections, after turning east onto highway "Z", finally. You know, I love this road, but it's a BEAR. A roller coaster of hill after hill after hill -- it's almost worse than Mo-116 that rolls into Plattsburg for the 200K. This kids, is why I tend not to complain about hills like Johnson Drive and other local "walls" anymore. At least you can tame those hills without having to ride nearly 80 miles to get to them. Oh, and did I mention you have to ride the other side of each hill on the way BACK, after you've got about 110 miles in your legs? He,he. Yes, what about the TORture??? Muaaahhaaahhaa!!!
I ride on, and approach the subject of the opening photo, of me and the highway sign. The intersection of highways A and Z. I don't know what it is about this intersection, but I always stop to consider it. Maybe I'll have a house up here someday, I dunno. Still, in an area of the state that is at least 50-60 years away from EVER being devloped, or having a Starbucks or a Subway, it's nice to enjoy the EMPTINESS. The cows calling, the wind howling. The highway that runs from nothing to nothing, essentially - maybe 50 cars a day. Maybe. I only see two while standing here for a few minutes. NO MUGGLES! In 2002, I don't remember this intersection. In 2003, i got one of my first photos of myself on a bicycle, courtesy of Warbird's Dad mirroring us along the route and taking photos for the memory log -- and this webpage. That perfect shot, sunny day, Warbird on point, me feeling strong, looking lean - something I'm still trying to get back to - wearing a jersey that now hangs on my wall because it's too small -- the pavement of highway Z stretching WAAAY back to the horizon. I love that picture. In 2005, I sat here waiting for Ort to show up - but little did I know a nagging knee problem had sidelined him, miles behind me. That time, I mugged for the camera with the Trek 720 single-speed in the background. Another good, sunny day. I wish I could have seen my face in 2002, when I was having a HORRID day, just for contrast. This time, the weather is just as bad - just not raining. Yet I have a pleasant feeling about the situation this time out.
I pull the bike back out onto the road, assess things, and turn north. WHAMO... holy gawd. Somewhere between the last turn north and THIS turn north, the wind REALLY picked up and was blowing - nay, howling - out of the north at least 20 MPH or better. OH well ... head down, and stroke it out. Unfortunately, fatigue is setting in, but really I'm having a good day so far, considering the wind. THe push is still there, despite the fact I'm beginning to run out of food and water. There are only 17 miles to go when I realize this fact -- but 17 miles can be an eternity in wind like this. Fueling is more about TIME than it's about DISTANCE. It's "only" 17 miles, but so far my plans to get to Albany by 1:00pm were not looking too good. In fact, my 2nd notion about 1:30 started looking bleak, too, shortly after. The hole in my stomach was growing -- so I downed the last three crackers I had in my pocket, and slugged some water. It seemed to help, but the body is in full tilt now, and metabolism takes everything it can get. In ten more minutes, the hunger is back and stronger. Ugh.... push, fool! Working my butt off, I look at the computer and see 6 MPH at times, as the hills are STILL a factor. THere is nothing flat about this route, ever. I reach the bridge where Warbird and I talked out the bad day back in 2002, and I give invisible knuckles to him in mid-air as I roll past the fateful site. I know, it's cheesey, but the older I get the more I value things like this. I have always had a soft spot for "that barn", or "that barber shop" -- but I've had more of a soft spot lately for places I went with Dad, places I have taken the kids and had those bonding moments, the place where I met my wife, gave her the first ring I gave her, stuff like that. And, yes, old roads like 159th that USED to be safely ridable -- the old "standard loop" as it was nearly 10 years ago that the Warbird and I used to train hard upon, racing each other without cares of cars or suburban turn-outs. This bridge, the northern edge of the northbound lane, specifically, is where the Warbird saved my ass by stopping, talking, and agreeing to pick me up. If he hadn't --- well... I'm glad I don't know. It's a memorable spot for me, and so, as no-one watched, I raised my fist against the wind and sent a quiet salute across the Pacific Ocean to "the man".
Come hell or high water, we'll ride together in Kyoto someday, man.
15 miles to go from there.
Then came Evona, MO. Quiant, but oddly-placed little burg only a few miles south of Albany signals that I'm getting close -- a huge downhill, which is really not that fun with 20 mph winds in the face slowing me down. My top speed for the day isn't nearly as high as it should be. Finally, I see the Phillips 66 sign at the edge of own, and then the standard-issue "welcome to" sign for Albany, MO. The WW1 cemetery is on the right - a lot of history here in this town. All I care about at the moment is the Casey's a few miles up. I pass the local pool with it's killer water slide, and then I'm there. Wheeeeew!!!! Hunger simply slamming my gut, I grab my brevet card and rush inside and buy at least $10 worth of water and food, and sit on the curbside, snarfing -- careful not to OVERload. Most of the purchase goes into my saddlebag for later.
It's almost 2:00PM. Holy crap, that took a long time. Nearly an hour and forty minutes to traverse 20 miles? Dang. Doesn't matter now... it's 2:00PM, and I'm halfway done with this ride. And the BEST PART, the part that NEVER happens, EVER on this ride --- the promise of a tailwind!!! Sometimes the weather service is wrong, and sometimes they are so, SO right. Dude, this was gonna be sweet. the same wind that was hampering our travels all day, and especially over the last 2 hours, was going to be at our backs! Spencer rolls in, singing a bar of the classic "Kansas City Lights", which brings me back to riding along on a car trip through a toll-booth on I-70 in the backseat of our old 1976 Buick Regal, Dad at the wheel, mom in the passenger seat, and my sister and I fighting for legroom while stretched out trying to sleep while we all drove thru the night on the way to Colorado or South Dakota - I can't remember where. But that song was coming softly over the radio, on the AM dial no-doubt, while the 350 V8 punched a hole in the deep Kansas night, on cruise control - back when gas was cheap, and the future was brighter. Isn't it amazing, the human brain? Things like a bridge or a bar from a song can draw up SO much... Spencer had no idea what he was making me think of just then, so I just smiled and hummed a few extra bars in my head while I finished off my Mounds bar. Hmmmm....yes.... complex sugars, dark chocolate, coconut.... good for at least 20 strong miles. BABAY YEAH!!! CHOMP CHOMP!!!!!
2:30pm, time to roll -- I mount up, and we are off again. FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, I'm back at the intersection of A and Z. Yep. Fast, baby. The wind is even stronger now, and the only gripe I have is that I only have a 49x12 maximum gear to push. Not to bore you, but seriously, even the masive hills of highway Z were much easier to tolerate with the strong cross-tail wind from the NE. I was in cycling heaven. Even pushing the 49x12, sometimes dipping to 49x15 or 16 for the steeper stuff (!!!) - the hills were there, but not bad. They still sapped speed, but the wind was making the energy reserves last SO much longer. This day was TOTALLY worth the trip.
Sometimes in the face of masive adversity, the silver lining shines all the brighter. At the beginning of the way, there was no way we could have seen it, but certainly the Madonna Ghisallo was smiling upon us now. We earned our stripes, and our names -- well, MY name at least, as Spencer is truly already DEFINTELY a "Randonneur" (Last Chance 1200K on a fixed gear, anyone?) Jack was fast, all day, riding a Surly Karate Monkey modified for road touring use and wonderfully equipped (do you thinkit has anything to do with gear NOW? Stop saving for a Ramboillet and just GET OUT THERE!) Dude, these are STRONG riders. I think I got a little closer to that distinction Saturday. After finishing the 600K this year, I'll be even closer -- but to have the choice to ride in a rain/snow mix with a horrid north wind, or wait until Sunday with it's promise of clear skies and 60 degree temperatures... and to choose the FORMER???? There is either something wrong with me --- something VERY VERY WROOOONG with me! --- or, perhaps, I too am a Randonneur.
Trial by fire, and reward by tailwind. I felt knighted, sitting high on the saddle, smiling, and flying southbound, checking off landmarks and grinning bigger with each mile closer to home.
Of course, the mind does still get tired and bored -- thankfully for YOU (egads) I had a camera, and therefore "someone to talk to". The Warbird is probably laughing louder than anyone right now, because he remembers Ride the Rockies 2002, and the video documentary crew that was interviewing riders atop Molas Divide at nearly 11,000 ft., after a gruelling 3-hour climb to the top --- I was babbling like and idiot, dropping words like "culmination" and talking about my "tumultuous journey" -- thankfully for everyone else in the world, hey edited most of that out... unfortunately for you, I have no editor. MUAAHAAHHAAAHAHAAAAA!!!!!!
Still, the frivolity of the portable video recorder - and the memory cards' capacity - eventually wear thin. Shortly after, I'm in Plattsburg again, feeling strong, and still enjoying a tailwind. THe long journey back south along highway "C" takes no time at all, a big contrast to the 200K three weeks earlier when the wind was just as strong, but in the wrong direction.
Eventually, I catch Spencer, and realizing my ultimate goal for this ride, we hit Plattsburg Road before the sun dips. Whew! Stopping for a bit, I pull on a few extra layers forthe coming cold air of nightfall. The wind dies a little, but doesn't shift -- and the ride south on Plattsburg, one of my favorite roads, is a good one -- except for my one mechanical failure.
Yeah, I thought you'd like a little drama in there -- but this time it's pretty paltry. The only thing that exploded was the filament in my lightbulb. Weird, and only the second time it's happened while on a ride, since originally purchased in April 2002. That's not to say the original bulb lasted that long, it's just the first time I hadn't hanged to a new bulb before the brevet series. Oh well -- spares abound in the saddlebag! See, paltry drama. The only BAD thing about preparedness is the fact that it tends to ruin an epic tale of suffering. Oh, mark me, I'm sure there will be another nasty adventure coming up. Ask me in about a month when I cross the 300 mile barrier for the first time.
New bulb in place, I continue on, soaking up the excellent night, and pulling zippers high again. Shortly after, I'm back at Perkins, checking in -- and if it hadn't been for the "nice lady" that was being REALLY picky about the Sticky Bun selection, I would have had my card signed at 8:54PM -- but instead I have to settle for 9:02 as my official finish time.
Yeah, no records broken -- 15 hours and change, total time -- and 12 hours 14 minutes 09 seconds rollng time, or an average of ... yuck, 14.3 MPH... and you know what... I'll take it. Considering that my average speed upon arriding at Albany was 12.9 MPH after fighting all that wind, do the math on my return velocity needed to raise that back up to 14.3, and that's a pretty good ride - like two completely different rides, really. These aren't about speed -- especially THIS one, with a boasted 27,000 feet of climbing recorded by GPS one year. IF you can average better than 14, you're doing pretty good. Well, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
The days of hitting Perkins at 7:37PM (2005 on a SINGLE SPEED!) will return, probably NEXT spring considering I'm starting over this year, after last falls events and injury. I'll freaking take it!
Chocolate milk never tastes so sweet. I drove home, all smiles.
Thanks for reading ----- the 400K is coming 4/28... and I'm all over it, cousin!
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