Song of the Week - July 1st

Starting a new thing here on the blog -- I think it will be interesting (at least for me in a few years) to look back and see what was tripping my trigger at certain points in my life. And, hey - I might just introduce ya'll to some different music in the process.

I might get one on here every week -- I might not. Life is uncertain, and so is this blog. ack! pffft!

Ok -- edition #1:

This week's song of the week is: "Australia" by The Shins, off the album Wincing the Night Away.

Check it out. Better played very loudly.

Working Title

Whooooo! What a month June has been -- started with a bang with the finish of my first 600K, which is a high I'm still riding. RAAM has come and gone, and Robic once again smashed the field and brought home another win -- his third. Next year, he might well become the only four-time winner. PBP is less than 50 days away. The MS-150 is less than 80 days away. The Tejas 500 is barely 93 days away. I've run almost a dozen or so 5K's now - personal, not t-shirt runs - and the strength is coming along AND it seems to be benefiting my climbing on the bike, which was unexpected. I'm keeping things on that level until after Tejas, however, when the real marathon training will begin in earnest. For now, everytihng is feeling pretty solid.

Things are getting busier, however, as I've started up a 2nd job again, working at my LBS in the evenings a few days a week. This is a great way to support my habit, give a little "dude" flavor to every bike I touch, and supplement the income a bit. Yeah, it's time away from life - but I have to do what I have to do, ya know. It will make the training schedule tougher - but I have to adapt, and I can. It seems silly, but that thing about the 600K being a little life-changing might be a stretch, but the attitude-changing aspect of it is very real. Everything seems possible, and challenges are easier to manage. I breathe deeper, and think about things slower and with more patience. I figure once a year I can recharge that feeling, and probably be a better person for it. Next year, the goals list will be considerably shorter, but it will defintely include the brevet series. If nothing else, for 2008 the medals will be a new design, so I have to collect the whole set!

The bike stable is changing, too. After completing the 600K, the headset on the Kogswell was essentially trashed, as I expected, so before vacation I brought it into the LBS for a headset swap - one of the few things I am not equipped for in the home shop. Well, at least not equipped for a Chris King swap, which requires special methods and adapters. Long story short (that's a shock for THIS blog!) the Kogswell is no longer in service, due to issues that came up with the stock fork. I was afraid it would happen, but it's only the last straw in a long list of short-comings with that fork. Adding to the issue, getting a replacement fork from an off-the-shelf vendor is impossible, because of the special dimensions and rake that make the Kogswell frameset what it is. The 1" threaded technology is gone, only a handful of companies still make quality headsets for them, and fewer make forks. I could go threadless, but that kinda kills the whole retro vibe of the frame - it looks weird, and still there are not many threadless 1" forks that would work with the frame. Further, even if I found the right fork - or (gasp - $$$$) had one built - I'm looking at painting it, too. Instead of losing a bunch of sleep, and figuring out how to budget the funds to replace it properly, I've decided to cut my losses and use this as an opportunity. Much deliberation and list-making, the Cannondale - which only a month ago was on the "endangered" list, close to going up for sale due to lack of use - is going to take up the main bike role. It will handle brevets just fine with some modifications, and I've had it up beyond the double-century mark with no issues in the comfort territory, it's strong enough, lighter, and everything on it is essentially new. Conversely, the Kogswell is PERFECT, but the headset is jsut the first in a long line of parts that are reaching the ends of their service lives. It's either sell the Cannondale and replace everything on the Kogswell with those funds, or take advantage of the good deal I got on the Cannondale and just RIDE IT. The Kogswell has a much better chance of finding the right buyer out there, whether on the BOB list or somewhere else. I wouldn't get my money back out of the Cannondale - no way. But, wider tires - which it will accept - bar-end shifters from the Kogswell, the new brake levers, ditch the STI levers, add the frame pump - which fits fine - and transfer over the lighting system for brevets, and the Cannondale will fit the bill nicely. It's lighter and more efficient. Justifications aside, I know it sounds really weird for the Dude, the long-time lugged steel holdout, to suddenly change gears and give such props to an aluminum bike. Yeah, I know --- it was bad enough that I BOUGHT the darn thing, but at the time it made sense, and stepping back now and looking at my options it STILL makes sense. Seriously, it's THAT comfortable, and I *NEVER* would have thought that if I hadn't ridden it. It continues to impress me every time I ride it, and that impression holds true all the way up to 200 miles. Blindfolded, I would simply not be able to tell you which bike I was riding, between the Kogswell and the Cannondale, based on road feel: yeah, the STI levers would give it away, but all things equal I can't tell a difference in ride quality. That's with 28c tires on the Kogswell and 23c tires on the Cannondale, too. It's simply a well-engineered bike, and I have to at some point stop apologizing for it. It's just a different metal, a different way of doing things - for better or worse. It's time to ride it, enjoy it, and justify the initial purchase. Is it the LAST frameset I'll own? No way. When it's time comes, I'm quite certain a Thorn, Richard Sachs, Rivendell, Heron, Mariposa, Waterford or Serotta will take it's place. I will save my pennies and dimes towards that end, because there is no sense in me putting money towards a new custom fork and paint job on a frame that I didn't pay that much for to begin with. Not that there is ANYTHING WRONG WITH THEM, but my phase of "price-point" bikes filling the role of primary bike are done. The Surly Steamroller is PERFECT as a backup bike and a commuter, but I don't see myself riding a Surly Pacer or LHT as a primary bike. Again, nothing wrong with those that DO, but if I'm gonna get another steel bike it will be time to make an investment and do it RIGHT, probably $2000 or higher for frame and fork - it will take about five years to get there, but it will be worth it. VERY high quality, with the features I want, not the features I will talk myself into living with.

So, the stable loses a steed, and the sun has set on the Kogswell. It's a great frame -- the fork is okay. And as I type this, it's clean, ready for sale, and the fork has been re-installed correctly and is probably good for the next 4 years to the right buyer that is looking for a lugged steel back-up bike, or commuter.
(if this happens to be YOU, email me - headset, bottom bracket and seatpost are included.)

The Steamroller has already seen the benefits by getting a few new parts, and the Cannondale is getting refitted with new levers and bar-end shifters tonite in the garage. Like I told Ort when going thru this battle-plan in my head, it's a move that makes so much sense, I can't believe I didn't do it earlier. I get new parts for both bikes, the Cannondale moves from racer with STI levers to a platform that makes more sense for the riding that I REALLY do, I gain a set of spare wheels, and I'll probably make a little cash from the Kogswell so I can budget entry fees and new tires for the 2008 season. Not bad!

The next big thing - the Cidermill Ride is coming up, the C'Dude edition.
See www.commuterdude.com/teamcdude.htm for details!

What, 500 miles on a bike ain't hard enough for ya?

I've added another goal to my list of "stuff" to check off before I die, lest it be the very thing that kills me:

Ladies and gentlemen... he has... crossed over....

to running! (booooo.) Quiet you!

So, I'm tired of being a mediocre athlete with a weight problem, I've decided the best way to do something about it is three-fold:

1) diet. would you actually just STICK to something, please, dude? Stop eating like crap.

2) Cross-training. For some reason, work has gotten busier, and I haven't been back into hte gym for a while now, and I miss it. Yoga, weights class - I need to get back in the habit.

3) Nothing burns a mid-section like running, from what I've witnessed and read. My biggest problem area is my mid-section. Abs work since January hasn't yielded VISIBLE results (yet), but it has made it possible for me to still wear my old pants while my weight has increased. This is an indication that something is happening.
Paired with re-focusing of the diet, and steady running beginning next week (well, starting with walking fast, initially), I want to see dramatic results by the time Tejas gets here in 101 days.


So, goal time:
I'm going on record here:

Complete the 2008 Walt Disney World Marathon, January 13th, 2008.

Yeah, it's in 2008, but it's really early in 2008, so I can nearly consider this a goal for THIS year, because 99% of my training will take place this year.
That's in addition to ramping up for the Tejas 500. Honestly, this is a huge deal for me, and it's probably more of a challenge for me than cycling at any distance because I simply don't enjoy running the way I enjoy cycling. The theory is that cycling has become so engrained, it's simply something that I do -- not to say it's not still hard at times, but I think you get the idea. The running will be above and beyond the cycling, and will hopefully shock my body out of complacency and back into fat-burning mode.

So, there you go!
The registration fee is paid, and I'll be joining my Mom who will be competing in the same marathon for the third time in succession. Yep - "yer mom runs marathons, slacker." So, there is a lot of accountability there!
The running shoes are ready, and I'm looking forward to a fresh challenge. When the Tejas 500 wraps in late September, I'll hang up the bike for a bit and focus on building distance on foot as the nasty weather starts to work it's way back into the forecast this fall.

This is what it's all about -- finishing the 600K, suddenly everything seems possible. It's a good feeling. Let's see how deep I can busy myself in it!!!

A weekend of firsts: The 600K report

UPDATED 6/5/2007 3:55pm
Please scan for added notes below:
if you've already read it once, there's probably more!
...and probably a lot more typo corrections.

Let's begin by completely eliminating the suspense. Anyone reading this blog lately knows, and anyone that's known me since I started cycling knows, that this weekend was yet another chance to get the big one. The quintessential rite of passage for randonnuers. Yeah, in typical "dude" fashion, I gotta talk things up a bit - but seriously. Like a racer's first crit win, like the time trialist breaking the course record, like ANY big challenge and big personal wall, anything worth accomplishing, the 600K is the last in the series of spring brevets, and the last step of a journey that tells the organizers of Paris-Brest-Paris and any other crown-jewel event that, yes, YOU are worthy and ready.

I finished.

FINALLY.

After trying at this since 2002, I finally broke past the internal barriers, the self-doubt, the planning and the mileage itself, and finished the 2007 Kansas City 600K brevet in a well-planned 38 hours, 55 minutes.

The amazing part, as I type this, I still feel a sense of surrealism about the whole thing, so I risk missing certain details by posting so soon. Still, I wanted to get it out there, to express my excitement about finally acheiving what only a tiny fraction of the human population has ever done. I have no idea how I did it.

Make no mistake, I want to go on-record and say it:
This ride was the hardest thing I've ever done. Period.

The length of the route can only be described this way -- it would take literally weeks for me to type out and describe, the way I WANT to, everything I experienced in the same fashion that I have in the past. The 400K report was long enough, and this would easily take up twice that space -- I've elected to spare my fingers and your eyes by keeping this on the "quick hits and take-aways" level. Forgive me, fellow fans of literary imagery, for I have to draw the line somewhere.

I have no idea what made me ride all the way. NONE. I've never started a ride of this magnitude at night before and the 10pm start threw my digestive system for a loop after the 10 mile mark. A full dinner early in the evening, capped off by my usual pre-ride cocktail of Sustained Energy about an hour before leaving the house -- usually a full night's digestion helps things along, but this time things would sit and stew in my system. The shorter night-start rides I'd done over the last couple months never required the SE drink before hand. I felt horrid, seriously horrid, from mile 12 onward.  Near about Mission and 175th I lost track of the main pack. The fast bunch began to advance and I quickly found that there was only ONE rider that was slower than me. Not territory I was un-used to, but gosh I wanted to hang in with the group to at least the first control. It was going to be a long night.

Lightning flashed across the night sky - heavy weather was promised and I was kinda looking forward to the light show, as the biggest storms skirted the area to our south.   It was spectacular -- as a storm spotter for my county I've seen my share of lighting and storms, but EVERYTHING changed when I was RIDING near it at night like this. The smell, the brilliance of it all with no windshieid to obscure anything - amazing.
We stayed dry for the most part, however, in this early section.

Fireflies.  On 223rd street after I passed one rider that had stopped for a break, the road is skirted by wheat fields and tall grasses. I've only ever ridden 223rd St. one other time with Ort a couple years ago, and this 2nd time was also the first time at night.  I can't even describe it hardly -- the lightning to the south, the sweet smell of wet grass, the occasional rushing squish of wet pavement under tires, and the fireflies - hovering above the fields on each side of the road, as far back as I could see. Magical, the constant yellow twinkling. A heavenly moment.

Rain - I got my wish at 1:00am at 319th and Block Road -- slight sprinkles turned to light showers, and then steady rain - making the waiting game turn to definte, so Ken and I (whom I linked up with at Paola) stopped to don the rain jackets. It would rain for the next two hours, then stop for a few minutes, and begin again along K-152, and it would keep raining until just before dawn.   It was nice -- cool, pleasant. Refreshing - but not refreshing enough to take my mind off the mounting pain in my lower gut.

The doubt, the internal dialogue. I spent the first ONE-HUNDRED miles of the ride hating every moment of it, physically. The items above were simply distractions from the intestinal distress that was making it hard to maintain pace of any kind. The fact that I lost the fast group was partly for conditioning, partly for stomach. Blood gets diverted, liquid, pressure, and it becomes hard to even bend at the waist - much less push pedals over. I planned to call my friend Alan at from the control in Butler, MO, prepared to give directions for him to get me. A call to the wife would have only brought common sense talk, and I didn't want to hear that "I could do it."  I simply didn't want to ride anymore. I wanted to turn around. I wanted to go to sleep. The magic of night riding, the nice rain, the good company of Ken, were barely enough to keep me there. I wasn't going to Paris, I didn't NEED to qualify for anything, I didn't NEED to be out here. Thoughts of Ort, completing his first 600k ride only a week before, hundreds of miles away...how would I justify myself? What cowardly excuse could I devise? What cowardly excuse could I devise for MYSELF? How could I justify once again that I was somehow unable to complete the 600k? Would FINISHING it be worth it? REALLY? Why was I here??? I was formulating every scenario in my head, over and over, literally, for 100 miles, until I reached Butler.

After Passaic my pace dropped, Ken disappeared up the road, and I limped my way into the 2nd control. At 5:15 AM, I got my card signed at Butler's Conoco control and turned on my phone, paused, and then I turned it back off again. I sat, I ate something, waited, and nature called to my rescue. 15 minutes later, I got back on the bike. I started back north on US-71, as the cue sheet ordered, but at the intersection of Rte. H and US-71 there is one last opportunity to bail. I can ride north, back towards home, or I can turn right as directed and head towards Appleton City towards the rising sun.  Maybe it was simply because "the cue sheet said so"... maybe it was because, deep down, I knew I didn't have a good enough excuse.  Perhaps something in me was changing that was allowing me to finally ignore the background din of doubtful, self-created voices.

I turned right.

The sunrise was awesome, on highway H, midway between Butler and Appleton. The rain cleared, and the morning sky was breath-taking.

I reached Appleton City, alone, the fast group evading me by only a few minutes, but I did see one cyclist JUST peeking over the last hill out of town. A rabbit, perhaps. I was lucky enough to catch him, but it would take nearly 45 miles to do so.

A short rest at the control and I depart -- again, I don't remember why -- the surrealism continues. I think it was just the routine doing the work for me, subconscious pushing me. Perhaps the push of a dozen friends out there. Perhaps the spirit of a father past. Something was putting me back in the saddle, over and over. This next section was the bad one - Appleton City to Weableau, MO. was 62 miles of unknown territory for me, never ridden, never navigated. There is something to be said for discovery and seeing a new route for the first time -- there is something else to see a route with such a reputation for the first time.

Hills.   There are no hills in Johnson County, KS.   I think I've said this before. If nothing else, THIS time it's more-so. The reputation of this middle 200K section is confirmed -- it's evil. Well, okay, that might be too harsh. After all, *I* did it - so it can't be THAT bad.   A constant string of hills, the worst and most glorious of the hills came on highway "N". Obscene. The Ozark Hills are a feast for the eyes and torture for the legs. How I survived, I credit Payday candy bars, donuts and real Coke, and some unknown willpower that I've never tapped into before.

I'm exceedingly glad that the "Dirty Harry Ride" route is there, because it's the only thing even remotely close that got me ready for this ride - and it's still only got maybe 40% of the climbing. Yeah, seriously.

Food - on that note, yep - I, the old proponent of 'engineered nutrition', once again found that my usual stuff just wasn't working. Instead of panicking, or blaming things, or plodding along on a plan that just wasn't working, I changed, adapted. Now, instead of shaking my head at the other riders with their oddball nutrition plans, I now nod with understanding. My old mainstay of Sustained Energy was ballast, and I dropped the remaining baggies in the trash at Appleton City. Carboplex took it's place - there's something about the protein in SE that eventually stops working for me. Yeah, Carboplex is still 'engineered nutrition' - but it's simpler -- IT was working. In addition, I was now free to mix it up, so I did. I tried things that I've ALWAYS shunned on long rides. I had real Coke. I had Payday bars. I had Gatorade. I had pasries. I had PB Crackers. And I enjoyed success, consistant energy, excellnt hydration, no cramps, and plenty of push all day and night. Weird -- but it worked. My advice? It's all very personal - go with your gut. Read, know, and be careful -- if it DOESN'T work, change things FAST before it's too late and remember that stomach distress is temporary.


Secret controls are cool.  Nice surprise!

Highway 13 stinks. It's got a shoulder, but dangit - it sucks. I can't wait until MO-123 re-opens. I got my only flat here on highway 13's nasty shoulder.  Frame pumps work marvelously and are completely worth the extra weight -- very handy, and REAL. I don't blame the tires -- carpet spikes will do nasty things when hit correctly.

Highway "N" is better on the way back - but only because you know what to expect.
But, it still never seems to end. 15.4 miles of continuous 6 MPH up, 40 MPH down climbs takes a LONG time. There is nothing sweeter than seeing a sign that says "JCT 39", because you know "N" is over.

"Handlebar Palsy" is real. Few notes: my handlebars are level with my saddle height, and my hoods are level, so this is not an adjustment thing. This is not a hand position thing, as I moved my grip around a LOT. This is more of a "here, hold this for the next TWO DAYS, and let me hit it from underneath with a hammer" kinda things. I'm gonna maybe shop for some of those "Body Geometry" gloves, because my simple minimalist-padded gloves that have worked on every other distance did not work this time. From the heels of my hands, to the tips of my pinkies are numb and tingly - and I really hope it's temporary. Wow. I'd still do this all again in a heartbeat, because I have options. Oh, this is also with thick Profile bar tape, and Fizik bar gel underneath, on a bike with a forgiving steel frame and fork and 28c tires. There were guys with much racier setups that were'nt even able to open their empty water bottles at the controls. Raise de bars!

Clean, ice cold well water is AWESOME. A little Baptist Church at the intersection of Rt. O and Mo-82 has an open-invite for passing cyclists to grab a refill from their pump. This is a good thing, because there is literally NOTHING else out there on this stretch. Thanks, Jeff, again! Full bottles, and a full head-under-spigott head rinse --- it's SO good, so, so, good.

Not using enough grease on pedal axle threads will absolutely drive you bananas after riding in the rain for a few hours, after things dry out. Tick, tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick tick, tick. Repeat about 278,000 more times. It's the new soundtrack for my ride. Yeesh.

Turkey buzzards are HUGE.

Yellow and blue finches are like little angels. Cool.

Ladybugs can hold onto jersey sleeves at up to 43 MPH.

Birds I saw: Turkeys, chickens, pheasant, quail, a peacock, the turkey buzzards mentioned above, yellow and blue finches, orieles, barn swallows, scissor-tails, night hawks, red-tailed hawk, crested egret, mockingbird, Meadowlarks.

Other stuff seen on the road. Weird roadkill; there was this one pile of remains on "N" that I couldn't even recognize. There were Armadillos, tarantulas (or at least some really big fuzzy spider crossing the road), snakes; mostly black and harmless. Turtles - big ones. Various moths and butterflies. Big dragonfiles. Deer, cows - including a huge Angus bull. Dogs - including one little feisty guy that simply wanted a good run: he never leaped at me, just trotted along at about arms length, smiling, and pacing me up a hill. The neighbor dog a few miles down that same road tried to kill me, but he was thankfully tied to the bumper of a rusted out truck.

Bugs.   There is a REALLY big moth on 223rd street between Antioch and Switzer. Watch out. Seriously -- something jumped out of the bushes after my headlight, and it hit me square in the chest like someone had landed a punch.  That's a big freakin' bug.

Even the cheapest hotel is better than a church bench on a chilly night.
It's worth the cash.

Ask for a wake-up call, but don't depend on it.  Set the hotel room's alarm clock, too, and place it ACROSS the room. I slept SO hard for three hours that I swear I didn't GET the wake-up call I'd asked for, but the other alarm woke me up, I remembered where I was and what I was there for, and got moving on time.

The "pampered randonneur" has this game ALL figured out!
Special thanks to Dale-from-Iowa's (Dale B.) wife for the cold pizza and cream-cheese and strawberry pastries on Sunday morning at Paola!   AWESOME fuel!!!
Next year, a couple of plans --- a little more minimalist of a plan, smaller seatbag, and since I know I'll probably hit that hotel in Butler again, I'll make a couple phone calls ahead of time and arrange to have a package delivered to a pre-reserved room with fresh clothes, instead of CARRYING them all day. Then, baggie-up the old sweaty clothes and mail them home. Similar to a bag drop, without wasting the gas to get the bag there!

Wool jerseys, caps, and gloves.
Gloves in the rain are great -- your hands are wet, but warm.
The cap, same deal; keeps the head warm during rain, keeps glasses clear like a visor, and it keeps the sun out of my eyes during dawn and dusk.
Also handy for ducking your head and blocking the bright lights of oncoming traffic on dark highways at night.
The jersey. Even long sleeve wool jerseys are comfortable and cool up to about 70 degrees. Hotter than that, and I really wanted to take it off -- so I did by switching to a regular short sleeve Voler jersey from my bag. But, at night, in the rain - even without a rain jacket for just the sprinkles - it's perfect. Cozy. And, what they say is true: While synthetics STINK after a full day of riding and sweating, when I took the wool jersey back out of the bag Saturday night in the hotel to get things ready for the next morning, it only smelled like one thing: wool.

Not all teens are apathetic societal outcasts with loose pants looking to start trouble. At the Paola control, a young guy got out of his car while I filled up my bottles and prepared to continue on. "Ok, man, my buddy and I have been tying to figure this out for the last 10 minutes...."
"great.." I thought, "here comes the teasing about the tight shorts or something."
"What does "rann-donn-ur" mean?" he asked, carefully sounding it out from my jersey. I gladly explained, and watched as his eyes became wide as saucers in serious respect and disbelief as Bob, looking on nearby, answered his next question: "so, how far are you guys riding tonite?" I grinned as he got back in his car, and proceeded to explain to his buddies what the deal was -- I heard a couple different versions of "holy sh..." coming out of the car, followed by "no way"s and "dang"s. Don't judge youth too quickly - you never know who they might be looking up to. I don't know if they'll even remember in a few years, but it was neat to be looked at that way by someone that I fully expected to be making fun of me dressed like I was. Had to be there.

Waking up at 2:45am Sunday to get a head-start on the last 100 miles of a 600K is a great idea, especially when I rode from Butler to La Cygne without seeing a SINGLE car, enjoying a full moon, stars, and perfect temperatures. I arrived at Casey's at five until six, after being caught by the faster group that left Butler about 30 minutes after me. They rode on, but I stopped for FRESH donuts and coffee and sat a spell while a long coal train rolled by, punching a hole thru the morning air with its horns. Perfect sunrise again... but the wind was coming.

Coffee really DOES work after quitting caffiene for a month, as training.   I never yawned, despite having woken for work Friday morning at 6:30AM, and finally laying down to sleep at 11:30PM Saturday night.

The faster group that eventually caught me about 5 miles from La Cygne worked well together, all equally paced -- I need to work on my speed more next spring, lose the weight that's been dogging me and keep up -- it's more fun with company and conversation.

Another cool thing about highway "F" early in the morning Sunday -- about 2/3'rds of the way to La Cygne, I stopped for a nature break on a high bridge, and took a few moments to look around -- I looked behind me, and there they were, as I knew they would be having set their sights the night beore on leaving the hotel at 4:00AM - I purposefully left early, knowing they'd catch up. As I stood there on the road, looking back east, I could see their headlight beams dancing ghost-like on the road, MILES behind me -- it was eerie and made me smile --- "here they come..."
I made it a game... can I beat them to Kansas? I did. Can I hold them off until the power plant? The end of the bridge? I lost the game before US-69 highway, but it was only a game for my own head.   Dale B., Danny C. and the crew invited me to the party with a hearty 'good-morning' and some catching up on the past years riding -- "Hey, let's ride to Paola!"  he'd shout out.   Dale B. is fun to ride with and rides awesome bicycles, this time on his orange Steelman.  I couldn't hold pace, much like Friday and Saturday, but it was nice to have someone to talk to for a few miles after spending 30 hours alone!

Back in Kansas, clear of La Cygne and headed north back towards Johnson County: in a part of the state known for it's springtime south-west gales, a NORTH-west headwind on the last part of a 600K is just mean.  Yes, we were headed north.
I really needed that south tailwind, but I did just fine without it. It's all mental, and for once everything mentally was in exactly the right place.

The only good thing about a NW wind is that 50% of it is from the WEST... turning east was FUN, and made up all the difference.

A plastic baggie with a tiny couple of holes bitten out of the bottom of it and filled with ice from a c-store, and then placed holes-down in your center jersey back-pocket, is AWESOME on a hot day! Thanks, Ort!!! I remember Tinbutt!

Egg and cheese biscuits from McDonalds are GREAT recovery food the day after a 600K.
I had two. Danny C. is right about a few things after all. A "certain kind of misery" goes pretty well with Taco Bell, actually - which is what I enjoyed in the hotel Saturday night. With no "magic ride cocktail" the next morning (err, four hours later) to screw it up the next morning, Sunday morning went MUCH better than Friday night did. 7-layer burritos RULE.

I love Aleve. You know, sometimes you just have to cave in and stop the pain.

Hydration is the best medicine for anything. I don't think I have ever been as dilligent about hydration than on THIS ride, and it paid back huge dividends. I felt fresh, no fatigue - aside from the expected "why are we still pushing?" leg pains. Drink! Seems like I got that figured out finally.
But, do it with regular water bottles, and be resourceful. Camelbaks: you won't want one on your back this long - NObody rode with a Camelbak in this group. To back up that notion:  I am big on safety so I usually wear my RUSA reflective sash during the day, in addition to nighttime when it's required, since it's day-glo yellow. It helps me to be seen better, I feel.   On Sunday, late morning, it felt like it weighed 20 lbs.   I **HAD** to take it off - I can't describe it.  It weighs almost nothing - but it was REALLY getting old, wearing it.   Now, imagine if that were a Camelbak or other hydration pack.  No thank you.

To the hydration note, and to just caving in and eating what works for ME, I feel better after THIS ride than I did after the 400K -- and what's weird, even as I hollered and kissed the ground after I finished, I could TOTALLY see doing a 1,000K. There is something within me that ALMOST didn't want to stop, even though early on as I kept continuing east after each control without knowing WHY, I was sad and envious to see the rest of the other bunch that had finished their naps in their cars at the start/finish mounting up again for the eastern 400K route that would complete their 1000K.  But, everyone has their own milestone - and now I've reached mine.

Perhaps next year I will aim higher. But, it's very true, and 400K is **not** long enough to realize these things: what I've read was right -- the pain is temporary, and after 200 miles NOTHING changes. Just keep eating and drinking and you can go and go as long as your mind is willing.

Again, you'd think that you'd discover a lot of these things on the 400K - as *I* thought - that "it's only 200K more, what's the big deal?" -- trust me:   it's a big deal.    Lots of things change -- but if you follow your plan, drink, drink, drink, and JUST PEDAL without thinking too much, you can do it.

And, now that I really understand it, I quote Byron, my original ultra-distance mentor:

Finishing is EVERYTHING.

As Bob Burns alluded to on his phone call to me tonite, as he's seen me sign up every year since 2002 and NEVER finish until now, "welcome to the club."

Heeeeere we go!

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!

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!

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....

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.

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.

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!