Getting Fit

I hesitated to even write this, and perhaps its another case of the dude thinkin' too much - but, I want to be abundantly clear about this before going any further. Many blog posts and reviews can come under easy fire and criticism if there are affiliations between the product/service and the reviewer. You'll see a lot of reviews that start with "I don't work for..." , "no-one paid me to say this", etc. So, before you read this, know that I *do* work part-time for BikeSource, and am therefore sorta affiliated with Specialized, and the Specialized BG Fit that I received yesterday. I was not paid to get the fit, and was not paid during the fit, and it wasn't mandatory for employees. I signed up voluntarily, just to see what the big deal was, really, and kinda selfishly to try and get personal confirmation that I had set myself up the right way all along.

Next, here's some reasons why the above is probably completely irrelevant with regards to what you're about to read below, and why I feel this still qualifies as an un-biased review of a service. I do not perform fits, and am not fit-trained. I work as a mechanic, part-time, at BikeSource, and am generally not in a position to sell or discuss bike fits. I can SIZE you to a bike, which means I can generally recommend a frame size and seatpost height based on loose measurements and random assumptions. Sizing and fitting are NOT the same thing. There are many shops in the KC Metro that provide fits. There are many sports medicine organizations that provide physical assessments to prevent or solve issues that could lead to injury. There are many Specialized BG-Fit certified shops in the country. BG-Fit is a indeed a brand, and it is specifically available in Specialized-affiliated shops, but the physical theories that are contained there-in are based on physiology and actual science, not on Specialized product or Specialized-branded or proprietary methods. My opinions and experiences outlined below are not intended to drive business to BikeSource or any other shop, recommend any specific fit method or thinking, but instead are intended simply to outline my personal experience, and highlight how the thinking with regards to bike fit has dramatically changed in a short period of time, and what is now readily available for utilization by the "average" cyclist.

Ok. I'm a knuckle-dragger. I'm a cave-man. I'm a hard-liner. My cleat position on my shoes and sandals has not changed since I "got it right" back in 2001. My seat height was derived by jamming an 18 inch long hunk of 2x4 stud into my - uh - region, while standing back-flat against a wall, balancing a magic marker and marking the wall behind me, then measuring and multiplying by the mean distance between the moon and the earth. My knee position was derived by fiddling with my saddle angle and fore-aft position a millimeter at a time until I could tolerate the pain for 200 miles. I run tan sidewall tires. I run fenders. I run bar-end shifters. I'm not a racer, I don't follow Euro trends with regards to fit and position, and my handlebars are level with my saddle. After four years of tinkering with my position on the bike, the saddle height, the brake hood location, and everything else that can be adjusted, well... you might as well weld those parts in place.

As an ultra-distance rider, an endurance nut, a randonneur, it must be said that there is a certain amount of pain and discomfort that simply comes with the activity. In even the shortest randonneuring distance, on your fastest day, you're in the saddle for seven hours, minimum. At the 600 kilometer level, you're in the seat for the better part of 30 hours, or more. Fatigue, saddle sores, pain, .... lingering pain. It's something that time and distance has taught riders like me to simply put out of my head. Rise above. The bike is fine, and nothing will change the fact that you're going to be sore after 200 miles. Period. Don't. Change. Anything.

So, how can someone like me even benefit from purposefully taking myself and my bike to someone that will scan and probe and look for excuses to change things like saddle height? WHAT??? Not only "no", but .. well, you know. Don't. Change. Anything. We use paint marks. We take perfectly pristine seatposts and etch tiny markings on the back of them with jeweler's tools, and then we examine and critique the position of those marks after every pot-hole and pavement joint to make sure our saddle height didn't change. I'm the worst possible example of this. I can see a millimeter of "off-center" from 30 paces. And it BUGS me.

GETTING to that point is what is important here. I have said it before about riding in general, and especially long-distance riding: fit IS everything. It's the difference between being appropriately sore after a 300K, and not being able to walk after a 300K, or when you're older. So, in my case, once it's "right" I am extremely hesitant to change anything, even under the guise of improvement.

The first part of the bike fit didn't even involve the bike. Looking for things like range of motion, flexibility, leg-length discrepancies, the way my feet naturally hang, and taking all of that information in. Questions are asked, and answered. Does this hurt? Does that? How much? Nothing is mystified. Every question is qualified, explained. Things are demonstrated. Measurements are taken. Nothing witch-doctory. This bone is here, this tuberosity is here, this metatarsal is here.

Then, the bike is locked into a REALLY expensive Compu-Trainer, leveled, and everything is measured AS-IS, before any riding or changing begins. So, if captain-hardliner-nut-job (read: ME) wants to put everything back exactly where it was, he can.

The position of key points on the body are marked, and I mount up to ride a portion of a basic road course to warm up and loosen up - so I am accurately represented on the bike. It helped that I rode to the shop, and was basically able to drop right back into my riding posture after a few minutes. As I was riding along, cameras positioned around the fit area were taking video of my ride. This is high-tech stuff, seriously, all the data being jammed into a computer while I pedaled along. Watts. Power distribution between each leg. Angles. Etc., etc., etc.

That's the "before" ride. I dismount, we check a LOT of data from the ride. Lines are drawn, angles taken, comparisons made, patterns emerge, and my memory is jogged. "OH YEAH... that's why my cleats were there..." remembering my first road shoes, and the struggles I'd had back in '99.

Then, the changes. If this is doing that, and you are feeling this, then maybe we change that, and try again?

Hesitation... "okay, we can always go back..."

Three solid, dedicated, patient hours are spent. It's you and the fit technician. Talking. Discussing. Observing yourself riding the bike, under load, freeze-framing, showing before and after, back and forth - like at the eye doctor... one... or two? one... or two? How about three? THOROUGH.

I've been through "fits" before, mind you. Just in the last two years, however, this level of technology, integration, putting physiology in place of those old "wives tales" like, the bars should be "xx" below the saddle, your knee should be here, saddle here, hoods here, you shouldn't be able to see the front axle when you look down, your heel should brush the pedal here - but just barely: good starting places, all good theories that saw a lot of champions ride to glory, lots of riders Race Across America, lots of MS-150 rides with no pain afterwards, a lot of bike-trail weekends pain-free and happy, yes, true. But, taking the video, marking the knees, the ankles, seeing it happen in real-time, under load, being able to juxtapose the images and analysis; this is stuff that (hate to even mention - trite-alert) Lance was using in a sports lab back in 2000. Doctors pioneered this stuff, long-time riders, racers, coaches, all realizing that the same theories and practices that squeeze every last watt and %efficiency out of an elite athlete at the top of his sport can ALSO benefit someone that just wants to ride XX miles with his or her friends and not be hitting the Advil for three days afterwards. The club rider that just wants to climb better, the tri-gal that wants to time-trial better, the mountain bike rider that is sick and tired of his sore shoulders, even the bike trail rider that just doesn't want to hurt... and who doesn't deserve to enjoy a sport that is meant to be enjoyed, at whatever level? This is trickle-down technology in a terrific form.

After the recommendations are carefully thought out, things begin to happen:

For me, let's go back a couple years again. I didn't really have many "complaints" in 2003. I refer to that as my "title year", culminating at the Mississippi Valley 24-Hour race. My speed and performance - while not race-winning - were darn good for me, and have been hard to replicate since. I was "comfortable" enough, and had roadside hand-ups and support, and my foot didn't unclip from the pedals until mile 166. I remember the ride, I don't remember pain. Over time, I retired that particular bike, and stumbled around with translating measurements myself from that bike to its replacement, and then to another replacement, and another, and another, and another, and finally to the bike that I primarily ride today. Over time, the only thing that has remained the same has been my saddle and my pedals. Frame geometries, handlebars, brake hood brands, where the shifters are, and even HOW I measure things has changed. So, whether I realized it or not (more likely not), my own personal fit was changing each time, very slightly. My body adapted, and whatever pain resulted from those minute changes was absorbed again. Mileage went up, pain went up - naturally. Mentally, as I matured as a rider, my tolerances for those pains increased all while I kept looking for tweaks, and getting new frames. If anything was really changing, I wasn't noticing.

Cut to two years ago, on the newly built-up Trek 450 "Warbird", I roll into BikeSource for the "old" fit method, pre-technology. I entered in with the same hesitation that I brought in yesterday. "We're not going to need to change anything... I transfered my fit from my 2003 bike..." I went away having discovered that my seat was too high, and my bars too far away. Rotated up the bars, adjusted the saddle, and I raised my eyebrows a little. Am I getting older? (No... you'd managed to dork up your own "fit" by switching bikes six times.) I continued that trend by riding the Trek home, and immediately "transferring" that new fit to the Kogswell. Was it exact? Probably not. This is largely impossible in practice because of the differences in the frames, some of the angles, etc., I'd come to find - but it DID get me closer to where I should have been, and that is the fit that stayed locked into the Kogswell, and got me things like my first 600K finish, and my first R-12 finish, without any significant pains. That's the fit that I rolled into the shop yesterday.

Though I was closer to where my body wanted to be, there were still small opportunities. While my body was adapting, and I didn't really have any nagging pains that I THOUGHT were connected to the bike, it was remarkable how the tiny alterations made larger changes to how my body looked on the bike in the videos. Where my knee was over the pedal, where my cleats were in relation to my foot, how telling my shoe's foot-bed was - examining the big toe, heel and arch markings pressed and rubbed into the foot-bed of the shoe was like a scene from CSI, and I was able to see clear images that explained why my big toes' nails hurt so much after long rides, for example. Pain that I'd learned to block out. I did my best the entire time to be my own best control. At the initial interview, I'd gone right down the checklist: does this hurt? No. Does that? No. At the time, I really didn't have any complaints... but as the data came out, and evidence was brushed off, things like my toenails, my shoulders, how I land on the saddle after I've been climbing OUT of the saddle, came to light in my head. Why, in the last two hours of a 200K do I keep having to slide backwards on the seat every few miles? As the process continued, I found myself changing a lot of my initial answers to the "does this hurt?" questions from "no", to "well, it could be better..." I wasn't prompted in that direction, to be clear - but the dialog in my head that played out as I watched the videos and listened to the measurements, things popped into my head like "man, I'm pretty stretched out...", and eventually I'd admit that, yes, such and such does tend to feel weird after XX miles.

One result, basically, the saddle simply wasn't where it should have been. Height? Perfect. I was happy with myself there. Angle? No problem. Fore/Aft? uhhhh.....not supposed to mess with that, right? Well, right... knees can be placed at risk. But, looking at the total picture, my knees were not exactly where they should have been in relationship to the pedal axles, either. Looking to my feet - and I was surprised how much attention was paid to my shoes and feet in this process - my cleats were also not where they should have been. I'd been spending years basically pedaling with my toes. Small movements, but with each tweak and subsequent session back on the trainer, back on the video feed, the small changes began to reveal changes in other areas, in a positive fashion. All the while, concerns about moving the saddle forward and somehow tossing the knees out of whack were alleviated instantly by confirmation of proper angles and alignments because of the movement of the cleats. My shoulders relaxed in the video. My knees lined up better than before - very slight, but there. My elbows looked more neutral, relaxed. The dizzying amount of angles, data, axes of motion captured could satisfy the most analytical theorist, and the data can be used to tailor whatever you like: more power, more comfort, and of course a balance of both. Generally, however, the goal isn't "low and aero" like some of the old thinking used to dictate... it's remarkable that really, there is only one goal in the "fit", and that's to get the best possible position so you CAN have both power AND comfort. Heck, look at any pro-peloton race this spring, and then watch a video from the 80's. The thinking HAS changed. Sure, you won't be positioned as low as a feather-weight pro-racer -- you don't have his flexibility -- but you can see over a span of 20 years of pro racers, the positions have changed. No-one used to pay that close of attention. Fatigue as a multiplier, one really does lend itself to the other... the body simply won't produce power if it's not lined up right, and that means comfort, almost automatically. The science works, and its been echoed in far more places than this shop or this method, in recent years.

But, the technology makes a huge difference. The video capture is brilliant, repeatable, overlay-able, measurable -- compared to me, on a trainer in my garage dangling some excuse for a plumb-line from my own knee and trying to figure out things on my own, or back to standing barefoot against that wall in the garage with the 2x4 jammed up into myself and a calculator. Trying to be objective enough on the bike to determine whether or not my own hips are rocking. Again, I don't do "fits". I can tell if a bike is the right size for me, or someone else, but I was only barely in the neighborhood of understanding.

So, clearly, this will require a follow-up post in a few months. On the ride home last night, things DID feel better. Some of my initial complaints seemed to dissolve. When I stood up to climb, and then naturally dropped back down, the saddle was there to meet me and I didn't have to readjust. Last night, my legs were a little sore, maybe more fatigued than normal - expected: the changes, while small, are still changes. I'll need to give it the rest of the week in commutes at least before I "forget" and let my body tell the tale, let things settle in. In a few more weeks, the 600K looms... but perhaps that's too lofty, even after minor changes. There is a 200K that same day, and that might be more appropriate. Only then, after 8+ hours, will I know for sure if there is any net gain - be it in speed, fatigue, or perception of pain. If I was able to simply take the pain and discard it on last month's 300K, then certainly, physically and physiologically, the improvements (and I have no doubt that improvements were made yesterday) should net less pain to discard, which might equate to stronger finishes.

So, for now - I'm impressed. As part of the review, I have to ask myself - would I recommend this to others? Well, I can't direct you to a specific location, but I would indeed recommend this kind of approach to fit. It's not a new statement for me - when it comes to performance, endurance, being pain-free, FIT is everything. What I've been able to do for myself over the years has afforded me a lot of long-distance finishes, and day-after-day commutes without injury. Can you do it for yourself, in your garage, using existing methods and the traditional thinking? Absolutely. Is it worth it to save a few years (in my case) of tinkering to get real data, real images, measurements done two different ways, and the level of expertise that comes from someone that spent a good amount of time and money getting trained by professionals? I am convinced, yes. If I had the opportunity to do it over again, had this level of technology been available in a retail bike store back when I was doing my own rotation of "tweak-ride-hurt-tweak-ride-hurt less-tweak-ride-repeat", I would have done it and saved myself a lot of trouble, pain, and would have just enjoyed riding from the get-go. Instead of my flawed measurements and half-handed attempts to move those measurements from bike to bike, I would have opted to enjoy one of the end results of yesterday's process, which is a data-sheet with repeatable measurements, before and after, that can then be transfered to other bikes in your stable, or that new bike you've been eyeing.

So, should you get a professional bike fit? If you've got some issues, pains on your existing bike - absolutely. And, yes, even in my case where I went in without a single complaint and a fair amount of skepticism, ANYTHING can be improved. I was never forced, falsely encouraged, there was no product placement involved, nor was I cornered into changing something just for the sake of changing something. I was informed, reassured it was reversible, and given unbiased, clear data and images of my own body in motion, not compared to any control or example, and allowed to make an intelligent choice. If you love riding, regardless of distance, yes: I'd recommend getting a real, true fit. It doesn't matter where: but ask the questions, call them, ask what you get for your dollar and time, ask where and how they were trained, how do they think about the process, what's their goal for you? Then decide.

I'll report back after the next long ride, and then I'll know more.

Keep riding, and thanks for reading!

Doin' the Double

My latest facebook posts have indicated that the RIDE should be epic, not the post about it.
That's sometimes easier said than done, because of the constant stream of information and inputs that a rider can get from the environment they're in while sitting on a bicycle for such a long period of time. In this case, that was just under 13 hours worth of saddle time, and in total about 15 hours and 48 minutes of total time "out" on the ride itself, including the stops, etc. So, paring that down into meaningful bullets that aren't completely exhausting is difficult for me.
I'll give it a shot.

Eighteen people started this one, and it was a good turnout from a lot of the local scene - Dale B., Danny C., a girl that came in from Colorado whose name I can't remember because I'm terrible at that stuff. Andy, Greg and Karen on the tandem, and Dave, an others whose names escape me also.
A good crowd.

Twice on this ride, from two different people, it's commented on how minimalist my set-up is. I don't have a trunk bag, I don't have a ton of stuff with me. My order of Carboplex didn't come in, so I just decided to do the ride on c-store fare. Risk, perhaps, yes... but, having other experienced riders comment about how LITTLE I was carrying along with me for a near-200-mile ride? Complement? Hard to tell, but I think it's an indication that I'm familiar with myself as a rider, and have allowed myself a little room to suffer, as opposed to trying to carry everything under the sun. Took a long time to get "here" - back in '02 starting rides with a flat kit and learning the hard way... to the extreme of full saddlebags and carrying so much food I could do a 600K without spending a dime at a c-store. There is a balance: on longer rides, you won't find me with so little, but maybe not with too much, either.

This was the first ride of the season for me where I was actually able to start with half-finger gloves. The temperatures, after a long, tough winter of Kansas cycling, were really nice, almost 50 at the start, and a slight tailwind.

The first section was moderately hilly, which would prove interesting 12 hours later.

Riding out on highway FF from Oak Grove to Higginsville, what a magical road, seriously. Long, straight, hilly, perfectly indicative of rural Missouri - very cool sunrise, very big long hills here and there. Riding it at night, later, was equally magical.

Higginsville, MO., hit the Casey's - in and out, really quickly - and back on the road. The section from Higginsville to Marshall was "interesting". I liked highway AA, and riding through Corder. I enjoyed crossing all the railroad crossings (KCS, I think) that seemed to zig-zag across the route. I think I crossed the same set of tracks maybe three times? Kind neat, but alas no train encounters. Coming out of Corder, MO. and onto MO-20, began one of the longest sections of road I think I've ever been on in a while. I mean, the last time I can remember feeling like "I'm never getting off this road" was the last 48-miles of Ride the Rockies in 2002. I mean, it's hard to describe, but it's not really LONG.... 23 miles or so on one road, not horrible, but man.... seemed like it took forever. I was enjoying 3rd on the road at this point, and finally got caught up by Steve G., the mileage king. I was partly testing myself on this ride, and it's not about road position or anything like that with randonneuring, but I was happy so far. Out front? Jeff W. and Alex S. - the speed kings.

Finally arriving at Marshall, MO., and a quick stop at the Casey's there. Whew. Getting warmer, so layers come off for the next leg.

A new fave little town discovered along the way, Slater, MO. Good Casey's, good folks. Even one of the teenager-type working there, instead of being completely shut off to the idea, asked me (on the return trip) "is there, like, a marathon or race going on?" "Sorta, yeah... long-distance marathon bike ride". "Cool..." Went into a few of the details, and he actually had some intelligent questions. For that to happen out in "the sticks" is pretty rare. Neat moment.
Another long section of road ahead, and now I've been caught up by the tandem and "Dave" (?). The interesting thing, I've also been caught from behind by Jeff and Alex. Hmmm.... cue sheet woes, perhaps? Hard to tell. Again, doesn't matter - a finish is a finish!

The next section was pretty neat. Another long spat along MO-240, mostly flat across the Missouri river floodplain, along some railroad tracks again - but, no trains. Finally we reached the pinnacle of the ride, well, at least for me -- I've never crossed the Missouri River on a bicycle, and today was the day. Hopping across the long grade of the bridge and landing in Glasgow, MO., and then south to highway AA for the run into Fayette, MO., the halfway. Hilly road. Very neat, dancing around the bluffs. Hilly.

A 6" veggie sub at Fayette, MO., chips, drink. Along the way, so far, I've been riding on the "feed bag" - a top-tube bag (triathlon style) turned into a tiny handlebar bag, and inside: peanut butter crackers, fig netwons, cashews. Tried Gardetto's original snack mix, but it didn't work for me. Odd taste. Worked in the past, but not this time. Next time, I oughta try Powerbar Harvest broken into pieces, maybe for some variety. The veggie sub was real food, and tasted GOOD. It made the hills and the return trip back across the river to Slater a little easier. I never really found myself wanting for calories, until later in the ride. I also had two Hammer Gel flasks full at the beginning of the ride, and used them for predictable hits here and there, and mixed them in with straight water to keep the delivery coming. Later in the ride, though, the amount of calories required to maintain the same speed, power, gets higher. At the end of the run back to Slater, for example, I ate another veggie sub... well, a cheese sub. Drank a real Coke. Some Powerade Zero (thank the maker). I perhaps had a quarter of that amount of food on the outbound, so the day was clearly catching up, food-wise. My problem - I was missing the carboplex. I won't carry enough to fuel every mile, but having some to drink at each control is a good thing for me, because it gets difficult for me to force food down. I just can't eat what I should in solid food. But, I can drink liquids without issue - so Carboplex works. Simple, inexpensive, predictable.

Electrolytes would be a big factor today, too -- first warmish ride of the season, and I didn't want to cramp like I had on the March permanent. Success! Endurolytes, and the occasional Powerade Zero drink (again, thank goodness for whoever decided to start stocking a high-fructose-corn-syrup FREE electrolyte drink at rural c-stores, you get a high-five.), and I was topped off nicely.

Rounding out the calorie discussion, and this is really NOT the way to lose weight, I'll grant you, I lost 6.5 lbs on this ride. I don't think it was hydration based... not sure. I was blessed with a bout of food poisoning about 24 hours after finishing the ride, so after surviving that I don't really know where my body ended up - but, I don't imagine I took in quite enough food during the ride itself. The food poisoning was un-related to the ride, by the way - but it sure didn't help recovery.

From Slater to Marshall... yikes. Okay, not bad, but hillier than I remember. Managed to hang with the Greg and Karen on the tandem and Dave a bit more, and we stayed together more or less, kinda yo-yo'ing along the way. This is a really neat section of road, and even though there was more of a headwind on this part of the return leg, I was still really enjoying the day. It was a good day to be enjoyed, with Meadowlarks singing, cardinals, and other songbirds playing in the sunshine. A good day to be on a bike in the country.

Back in Marshall, at the Casey's, made the marginal mistake of having something with a little TOO much sugar in it, a cherry pastry.... DANG it was good, but as soon as it was down I felt, well, "off". It passed quickly, however, and I felt good again. Turned into good push for the next 15 miles. At this point, Danny C., "Colorado" and Andy had caught up to us. I was ready, so when they rolled out, so did I. Not ready to rest quite yet. My tentative goal was to at least get back to Higginsville before dark. That was do-able, but not if I dawdled. We four rolled out onto Highway 20.

Yeesh, what a long road. Hydration today wasn't a problem, like I'd mentioned, but being SO on top of it sometimes became an annoyance. Had to make the roadside stop about halfway down this highway, finally finding a suitable turn-off. The four of us managed to stay together, but I proved how horrible I am in a paceline. I took my turn at the front, and then realized after about four minutes there was silence behind me. Ugh. Sorry! So, I'd slow up and regroup. But, I'm not sure -- I find myself being able to climb better than I can maintain speed on the flats. Every time the road began to pitch up, I was able to maintain more of a consistent pace without slowing, and that's what eventually had me miles off the group again by the time we reached Corder, MO. I made my way to the Casey's at Higginsville, and then rode back north to the McDonalds there, and re-found the group, joining Danny and company for a little McD before the final leg. The only mistake I made here was maybe (again) not eating ENOUGH. Another example where a bottle of Carboplex might have made the difference. I had a large fries and a Coke. Felt good, tasted awesome... but I should have forced down more food. Others around me, one example, had a chicken sandwich, an apple pie, a large fries, a yogurt parfait, a package of cookies and a Coke. I had probably a quarter of the calories they had, and returning to the road afterwards I was struggling to keep pace at times, feeling my still-empty gut and lack of push. But, I just can't force that much food down my trap. I even had to pour the last 1/4 of my large fries into my feed bag to eat out on the road. Couldn't even finish that in one sitting.

The last section was neat - riding along with Danny and friends, hills, sunset, Venus rising, birds off to bed. Took a long time to get back to Oak Grove, but, we made it. Not a bad day out! The hills were steep, yes... but not unmanageable. Looking forward to the next step, perhaps the 600K this time. The 400K to Iowa, I've already done before... so not sure, since the focus is still on R-12, if I need to do two long rides in May. June, however, is the 1,000K... and Danny has sunk his feelers into me on the subject. "I can do it", "I'm in my prime", "It's a life-changer". Whoa.... I'll think about it. THAT is a long ride.

The next day, I rode around the block a couple times with my son to get an even 200 miles for the weekend.
I felt really good Sunday, probably the best I've felt after a ride like this.
Sunday night into Monday, however, I seem to have contracted food poisoning, so I've been sent back to square one. Even walking a considerable distance was a chore. Hopefully, I'll be back on the saddle soon.

I'll leave you with some links to some music:


Music from the Road - (or, what was stuck in my head while I rode):

Vampire Weekend - Cousins I dig these kids. Solid. Been on my playlist for a while now.
Pearl Jam - Just Breathe A band that has matured a lot over the years, and their latest stuff is actually not shabby.
Metric - Gold, Guns, Girls I haven't always been a huge fan, and some of their older stuff isn't so hot, but this CD was good.
Manchester Orchestra - I've got Friends Not sure if I'm totally in love with this group, but this track it pretty good.
Iyaz - Replay I blame my wife for this one. I despise this song. Alas, there it was, in my head. Stupidly catchy.
Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros - Home Goofy, old country feel.
Them Crooked Vultures - Mind Eraser, No Chaser The drummer might look familiar. Pretty good band - no official video, but this live track is solid and not far off the studio version.
There you have it... thanks for reading!

23 hours....

Looking forward to a nice day on the bike tomorrow. 300 kilometers of awesome, 10,000 ft. of climbing, good roads, good friends. Updates from the road to come.

New roads

It's not the "same ole 300K"... not this year.

Visit the KCUC website for more information on this weekend's Oak Grove 300K.

196 miles of uncharted (well, for this group) territory!

 

This is where randonneuring for a lot of folks gets more serious... but I can only really speak for myself here.

Since 2002, the 300K has been a challenging ride - but, it's been the same course for many years running.

This makes it easier (if that's possible) for the returning rider to plan their day, conserve energy for "xx" section of the route, and similar.

Getting lost isn't a concern any more, generally, as turns become second nature and landmarks are burned on the brain.  It's never an "easy" distance, however, because you still have to pedal, after all.  The wind may change, pavement degrades and other section get fresh tarmac.  Ther can be construction, there can be weather concerns.  So, really - even though the cue sheet is the same, it's never really identical to the last time you rode it... but at least you know what to expect from the course, the hills, the traffic.

 

This year, a brand new route graces the KCUC calendar.  It's not a reprise of an old route from the 90's, no - it's fresh.

Granted, the roads have always been out there, but this is the first time they've been strung together for the KCUC group to discover.

New hills, new direction, new scenery, new challenges all along the way.

 

Big thanks to our own Spencer K. for putting this one together.  I'm looking forward to it!

It's the next step in the Super Randonneur 2010 series (200, 300, 400 and 600K rides in the same year), and will be #3 in my personal quest for R-12 #2.

Seriously, I'm jazzed -- it won't be a fast day for me - looking at the bigger picture, but after watching the Ronde Van Vlaanderen and seeing the pros hammer it out, I'm pumped.

Thoughts of Paris-Roubaix on Sunday have me excited to ride my own adventure, and then recover on the couch Sunday in front of Versus HD for the cobbles!

It's warmer, the sun is out, the grass is green --- I feel good, and ready.

 

If you are interested, again, visit the KCUC website for details, pre-registration or RSVP today!

You can print cue sheets and preview the map from that site as well.

 

 

 

 

Shot from the March brevet

Riders on the move, working hard to build that cushion of body heat before the rain begins... Again...

Perfection

Sometimes you don’t really need to travel to exotic destinations to take a “vacation”. Sometimes it’s enough just to schedule a day off from the stresses of the office and head out for a nice, long day in the saddle. After missing a particularly rainy and windy 200k brevet the weekend before, I decided to take just such a day off to get out and clear my head. It was a little bit of a risk being so close to the end of the month, but I’d manage to get my 2nd ride requirement in the books for my 2nd R-12 run.

Further, have you ever gotten “news” or had a “test” run on yourself – like at the doctor’s office - and you had to wait to hear back on the results? Were those results potentially life-changing? Well, that was me at the onset of this particular ride, further reinforcing my need to get out and rest my brain. There is nothing quite like a long day on the bike to help that effort. By day’s end I had ended up getting positive news, but at the time I didn’t know – and that’s why this ride was special, and why it will be held up as one of the best rides I've had in a long while.

Why was the ride so good?

The ultra-rare, super-special, Double-tailwind, that’s why! We started the day with a very slight northwest wind, which – at about the halfway – flipped to become a southwest wind later in the day. Living and riding in eastern Kansas, I’d been victim to the reverse of that scenario on many occasions. It’s character-building, that’s for sure – and I’m quite a character because of it. Getting a reward like a double-tailwind? I was so happy I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

Another reason: sunshine. Finally! It was a cool start in Olathe, KS.; about 37 degrees F, which is alright in my book considering it was thirty full degrees colder last month when I rode this route. Factoring in the slight tailwind, it was downright balmy by comparison. However, I always forget about the weather once I ride out of “town” into the more rural section of the route, closer to the river crossing near La Cygne, KS. Along K-152 highway, I was sure that I was feeling that "change" in the air hitting my face, like the moisture contained therein wasn't quite the same... like it was frozen. Sure enough, the bank thermometer in La Cygne confirmed that it was indeed below freezing… but even then I was still smiling, because the sun was coming up. After the long, dull-grey winter we’ve had here in eastern Kansas, I was simply overjoyed to at least see my shadow for once. It’d been a really, really long time. Temperatures moderated quickly once the morning aged, and I got to feel bare handlebar tape under my fingers, and got the season’s first whiff of sunscreen in my nostrils. Bliss. The only unfortunate part was getting back on the bike after the first control, putting a slightly sweaty cyclist right back into that sub-freezing air. Shudders. Later, however, it was short-sleeves and smiles all around!

The pace was pretty good today: I actually managed to get off of Jingo Road and most of the way to the first control at La Cygne before the sun even peeked above the eastern horizon. Not bad! I might have gone out a little hard, sure... but it didn't feel forced this time around, compared to the February edition. In fact, I clicked my helmet light on at one point to check the time and speed and was surprised, almost shocked... didn't seem like we were going THAT fast, but sure enough, there it was the number! Cool! Ok... now slow down a little. I guess the additional training shake-up was working out, and the addition of the Monday night rides for that critical "chase-someone" speed training, a little more active rest and recovery, and more careful dietary choices between rides had made things go far better this time.

Good Company! Again this time, I had two riders along with me; Randy of Kansas Cyclist fame came out (a RUSA member, but not riding for credit) for part of the route, and soon-to-be-RUSA-member (after I prod her some more) “DiNewt” as well. Them coming along was fairly last-minute, but it made for a good day – occasionally riding alongside someone for conversation is always nice. Riding an R-12 on my schedule usually finds me alone on these routes, but I've been lucky enough recently to have at least one other person along for the ride. This is good in a lot of ways: I don’t end up talking to myself as much – I’m already nuts, but holding conversations with myself puts me into another category altogether! – and it means that more people around here are curious about riding longer distances and joining RUSA. I like that. Thinking back a month, having “DMar” and “LMar”, new RUSA members 6059 and 6060, along for the “fun” was probably the only thing good about the February permanent ride! Headwinds, freezing temps, and my lack of training… if not for someone to ride along with, I wouldn’t have finished. Riding with a little company is always good.

Food, drink, and effort: The big hills between La Cygne and Pleasanton, KS, were a smidge easier this time around. Upon riding back north, where the grades are a bit steeper in the 12-18% range, I actually felt pretty solid where last month I'd almost - forget "considered walking" - been forced to walk up the hills. Improvement is good!

I think energy was on the mark this time, maybe 5-10% down... the stem bag I picked up to get munchies right in front of me and easy to ingest worked like a charm. No more back-pocket fumbling, or forgetting to eat. I had munchies right there in front of me, and I ate more often as a result, keeping the tank topped off. I still might have to consider a small tube-style handlebar bag, as the stem bag makes climbing out of the saddle kinda "weird" feeling, as the bag brushes against my legs, alternately with each pedal stroke. Not a big deal, not painful or terribly noisy, but I found myself trying to compensate by moving my knees out of kilter, which can't be good.

Hydration? Still going well, but still maybe about 5%-10% short... some cramping near the end with about 12 miles to go, probably due to sweating more than I expected to with the new-found warmth of the days now... so, that notion of "drink more than you think you need to, and before you're thirsty" guideline is still true. Electrolytes, and fast intake of fluids, and the problems ceased quickly. I just don't like that pre-cramp feeling when it happens, whether I know the fix or not, and I need to get it sorted before it gets really hot outside in a few months.

Perfection! The sky was brilliant blue, clear for miles up... bright contrails of white as we rode under the skyway. The moon-set was magnificent... a big orange ball in the west as we came off US-69 highway and onto 359th street on the way to the first control. Awesome... breath-taking. Later on that night, long after the ride had wrapped, I got to see the moon-rise, which rounded out the day nicely.

The sunrise! The colors! The steam plume from the La Cygne power generating station was going straight up and stalling at a few hundred feet, backlit by the eastern twilight; confirmation of the lack of wind, and quite surreal looking. Did I mention the lack of headwinds? VERY nice not to have to ride head down into a gale for a change and it helped, mentally and physically.

Birds in song! Heck, even the “attack dogs” seemed to be in a better mood; and without the heavy weight of cold on our bodies we were in better stead to outrun them. The smells of spring waking up: the first hints of green in the fields, buds on the trees, the first tiny smack of a bug against my arm. Compared to the browns and grays of 30-days prior, the scenery along the Border Patrol (permanent route #386) was brilliant and exciting.

Warmth! After months of rides that began and ended with every stitch of extra layers, warmers, jackets still on my body in the exactly the same places as when I’d started, if maybe only unzipped a little, THIS time my knees eventually felt full sunshine and warm air rushing past. Extra layers removed and bundled on the rear rack, finally! Ahhhh.... from the upper 20's at the lowest, to the 40's, then 50's... the temperature rose fast! I shed two layers on the leg from Pleasanton back to La Cygne alone, and finally ended up with just shorts, a base layer and my trusty RUSA wool jersey by the end of the day... it'd been a long time since I’d been dressed so lightly for a ride!

Pure enjoyment, and lots of moments where I'd be spinning along, low effort, cruising, smiling, just taking in the warmth, the sun and our “new” surroundings, quite literally seeing things for the first time with Randy's help - I learn something new every time I ride with Randy, about local history and landmarks, and today was no exception. When riding alone, I'm far too "heads down"... things I've passed more than a dozen times if you consider the out-n-back nature of this route, I’d simply missed them before. Today, I saw things like I was on a brand new route.

All in all, everything about the day was truly a blessing from above. I have no illusions about luck or timing; I needed a good day out, and it was provided. I was thankful, VERY thankful. My phone rang with the "news" I'd been waiting for at about 14 miles to go, but I simply put it back into my pocket and kept riding... not knowing what to expect, just relishing the moment, the day, the ride; knowing whatever the news on the message was - good or bad - that I'd had a perfect day on the bike; no sense spoiling the last few miles. Any of the challenges I did happen to experience - the cramps near the end, too much of this, not enough of that - I'm just tossing all of that away. It was a perfect day.

Photos in this post courtesy Randy Rasa, www.KansasCyclist.com & www.theDirtBum.com

For quality reading, and all the latest on cycling in Kansas, give BOTH of those sites a visit today!

Thanks for reading!

KCUC Season begins, March 27th

Come out and test yourself, train for that next big thing, or just enjoy watching Spring wake up on the open plains of Kansas.

March 27th, Saturday, 7:00 ride start.

Visit kcbrevets.blogspot.com for more details and registration information!

This first jaunt is 200 kilometers (125 miles), starting in Kansas City, KS., travelling through Bonner Springs along the Kansas River, meandering through Eudora, Wellsville, to Ottawa, KS. at the halfway point, and returning.  Quiet county backroads and byways yield challenges for the legs, and wide-open adventure.

The journey, no matter the distance, begins with a single pedal stroke...

Hope to see you there!

View our brochure HERE

Spring is nearly here - are you ready?

From a fitness perspective, I personally have a long way to go. I wasn't kind to myself over winter, but it creates an opportunity to light a fire under myself and get moving. Lessons learned have been plotted, and I'm ready to work.

For a lot of rando guys and gals out there, this is a pre-PBP year, which means a LOT of "getting ready". Myself, I won't be across the pond this time: in fact, I have yet to go... looking forward to 2015, already! For those that ARE going, there is a lot of training ahead.

Part of that training is preparedness, and ensuring your own success. I'm piggy-backing this notion on the heels of an SUPERBLY written article in this quarter's American Randonneur magazine, published by RUSA. This article highlights a LOT of things that I'd never thought of, and if you know someone that has a copy (like, if you're a new RUSA member or a "thinking-about" rider), I highly recommend reading it. I'd link, but there's no online version, sadly.

This article eludes to preparation OFF the saddle, namely bike and personal maintenance. This is the time to lose the pounds you want to, and fix things on your bike that you might have over-looked these last few years.

Handlebars. Yep... hairline cracks, anyone??? Have you looked? I haven't... and I'm going on six years on the same aluminum bars. I'd rather not find out the hard way; because it's cheaper than jaw replacement, after all! Bottom bracket... how long have you had it? Heck, even your frame needs a good look. Take the time, and avoid surprises.

How about a visit to the doctors? Get the engine checked out! They always say to consult a physician before engaging in a new exercise program, and while cycling isn't "new" to anyone here, it IS a new season... preceded by a long winter which saw a lot of us off the saddle.

Something I did today was dive into my seat bag. I've been blessed by a long streak without much in the way of roadside repair needs, so it made sense to make sure I still had what I needed - even though nothing had changed, really. I'm talking about tubes and patches, primarily. I was surprised to find that all of my Park Tool patches were stuck to each other, oddly... they're all backed with wax-coated paper, like any sticker would be, but the edges of the adhesive had seemingly run together after years inside a black seatbag. Several hot summer rides had clearly been the culprit. While prying a few patches apart wouldn't be too much of a hassle, I suppose, it's a surprise that no-one deserves after getting a flat - much like salt in the wound. So, a re-purchase is in order, and I'll save these old ones for the commute seat-bag perhaps, or the workbench drawer. They make good pool-toy patches, too, so I can save the old ones for that use.

Tubes are worth looking at, also. Rubber dries out, and depending on how you pack your seatbag you could come to find a chain tool, Allen wrench, or even something as benign as the end of a zip tie has rubbed a tiny hole into the surface of your spare tube. More often than not these discoveries are made on the roadside, where - again - you don't deserve that kind of surprise. So, take your spares out, inflate them, check for holes -or, avoid the roadside curse-fest and buy some new ones - you can donate the old tubes to the workbench tube drawer, recycle them, or make something cool out of them like a giant sling-shot or sew yourself up a waterproof pouch for this-n-that. Certainly not trash... even if thay aren't road-side repair worthy.

There's not much else to check inside your seatbag, unless you are ultra-prepared. Things like your bonk-rations... that well-wrapped energy bar, or energy gel that you stuffed in your bag for that "just in case" moment... is it expired? Did it melt? Is there a small hole in the wrapper?

What about things like your first aid kit? Yeah, I carry a tiny, tiny one -- antiseptic wipes, and a few gauze pads that I can apply to a sizeable road-rash event with electrical tape, until I get home. But, those little things like alcohol wipes and antiseptic wipes and antibiotic crash-cream can dry out also, so check your stash.

My seatbag list is pretty specific, but I also tossed in something for the mental toolkit. A roadside repair, in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, in the rain -- it can be frustrating. It can potentially be ride-ending. So, my advice is practice: If you've never re-laced a broken spoke with a (IMHO, essential) Fiber-Fix spoke, why not give it a try? If you've never fixed a chain with a seat-bag sized chain tool, do it! Practicing flat changes is even a good idea. But, something else I tossed in the seat bag - along with my "lucky rocks" and "lucky coin", is a fortune cookie slip that I got about five years ago.

Something a good good friend told me a long time ago while I was deep in the throes of giant-saddlebag purchases (and feeling the need to fill said bag) was that I can't carry a spare bicycle with me. In short, I should stop trying to envision every conceivable failure, and simply take the essentials and prepare to be resourceful. Zip ties, folded electrical tape, a small chain tool, and an endless and varied array of roadside trash are REALLY the only things you need to finish a ride - of any distance. Patch kits and tubes, yes - they are essential. I also, as I mentioned, put the Fiber-Fix spoke in that category. However, beyond that I've seen my friends finish 600Ks with electrical-tape and dollar bills holding tires together, and at the extreme, finish rides with roadside sticks, saddle covers, and velcro pump straps holding their FRAME together, no less...NO kidding. If you stop, think, and breathe - you can fix anything, no matter what happens*. Worst case, as recent forum posts have outlined, you can even walk if you have enough time. There is nothing in the rules indicating you have to ride on top of your human-powered vehicle.

So, just because you didn't carry a spare rear derailleur, or tire, doesn't mean you can't have a good ride. Just smile, relax, take the repair into the same personal-challenge category as the ride itself, and you'll come out okay. Sure, sometimes you just have to cash it in... but, don't get down on yourself if that STI shifter locks up... just by-pass it, and make the best of it. This year, the year before PBP, is a great time to test yourself for the "big one", and get prepared in more ways than simply riding the bike can do.

*ok, a completely shelled-out bottom bracket is pretty bad... but that's all I can think of, because it also recently happened to a friend of mine. That caused him to make a phone call, and really - there is nothing to be done about that occurance. It nearly ended his streak of consecutive 200Ks, but he shuffled a few things around and got the ride finished in the last weekend of February... his 50th consecutive 200K in as many months. His tenacity and resourcefulness is a large part of that success!

It's stories like that, and that fortune cookie note, that help keep me focused and calm on the roadside... to get that next "finish" in my ledger.

See you out there!

Make no Mistake

In my last post I eluded to the fact that I might have been lucky enough to pull off a zero-ramp-up 217km permanent, without consequence.

Clearing the air, if I had it to do over again I would have done it correctly.  Ramp up slowly is still very good advice.

Anyone can do pretty much anything... it boils down to survival afterwards.  You can go run a marathon, with your previous distance being only 5km... but you probably won't be walking the next day, maybe the next week.  To be clear, I'm paying for it.  The hamstring issue seems better, but my knees are sore.  I've checked them carefully, and it's not a fit issue -- nothing on the bike had changed (thankfully) so the pain is simply from overuse, and too-much-too-soon.  I did a full commute (no bus) yesterday, and I was feeling the effects all evening - despite best efforts to "take it easy".

If nothing else this blog is a compendium of ways to do long-distance riding incorrectly, so make no mistake:  I got really lucky.  Knocking off that distance last Saturday, without having ridden a century since early September, was foolish.  The cramping, the bonk, the hamstring pull, the knees today... it's really doubtful I'll look back on this ride as a hallmark of training mastery.  I'm taking extra care now to recover.  The ridiculousness of sudden over-training that I'd mentioned in that post, "knee-popping, ankle-swelling stupidity" was pretty much aimed directly at myself -- Tejas 2005, very little training, and I paid the price by not begin able to walk correctly or ride for five months.  I'm upset with myself for flirting with a similar outcome.  I've seen very fit individuals - good friends - that have been injured beyond repair, and it's irresponsible of me to flirt with that same outcome and pretend that I'm somehow immune.  I'm not.  With each passing year, my ability to recover slips... I have to keep that in mind, and be smart.  I pray for my friend's healing, and am hopeful for my own.  

So, careful recovery, and looking towards the end of March for #2 still on my mind... but if things aren't right, this next R-12 starts over in April.  Maybe.

 

Baseline

It's a bold claim that I'm already tagging this with an "R-12" header, but that's the plan. As the year shakes out, this is a reasonable goal that will keep me fit - but won't dent the pocketbook too badly and won't require tiresome single-car-family logistics to maintain. I really enjoy it - it keeps me motivated in all areas of life, and gives me something to strive for each month. At any time, however, the streak could end - for any number of reasons. I have to be smart, careful, and plan ahead to make it work. It's not easy, and often it's not the riding a bike part that makes it difficult. So, with high hopes, here's to one out of twelve, eh?

I'll try not to make this an epic saga... life has gotten more "interesting" lately, with new (er, additional) responsibilities at work taking the stress level to new heights, and making it harder to imagine sitting in front of a keyboard at home to write anything of length. Somehow, I always end up with at least a page of dribble, so let's just get to the old 'dude-style storytellin'... instead of hammering this out in three hours, it's taken me three days.

Ramp up slowly. I've said it to people. I've read it. I've heard and have seen what happens when you don't. Over-use injuries, knee-popping, ankle-swelling stupidity. Well, some people are lucky, I suppose. The body does remember, assuming all things are equal, and I truly feel like I pulled off a personal miracle. After 2008-2009's R-12 run, and then a 300K in April 2009, and the Leon, IA 400K last May, I'd taken a layoff from distance riding of nearly any kind. Taking into account the barely-handful of times I rode something other than a commute in 2009, I'm kinda surprised I was able to survive this jump back into long-distances. Let's see, realistically I did ride the MS-150 in September... so my original notion that I hadn't ridden any distance since July was a false one. I'd simply forgotten - not sure how - that the MS-Ride this year was not only a good time, but a fairly good showing. Before that, yes - it'd been since July's bike camping trip. So, let's say I had ridden 186 miles over a weekend in September... that's still nearly six months, since the ride was early September, that I'd ridden farther than my commute distance of 24 miles per day, in two 12 mile hunks. Combine that all with borderline burnout, typical February for me, and weekends littered with snow and ice events - the most in a decade, it seems - I hadn't had time to get in any weekend riding farther than 30 miles, either. Add a little winter weight-gain, and I was asking for trouble. Might as well just ride myself back into shape...

Coming along with me were two new randonneurs, and always erring on the side of not publishing names, we'll call them D'mar and L'mar. A married couple, very nice folks - and D'mar I'd met once a long while back at the New Years Day ride at Longview Lake, which was a LONG while back, come to think of it. Three years ago? Yeesh... I need to get out more.

So, once again, I recruit a couple new riders. Longest distance before this one, 104 miles. This would also, I believe, set a new record for both of them for a cold temperature for a ride start. It was cold enough for anyone, trust me ... no records broken, but 20 degrees was probably optimistic, and there was a stiff NW wind - not howling, but not kind. The air was wet, and I was chilled to the core in the first block of riding. Ugh!!! Dressed appropriately, so I thought - always just a wee chilly before riding.. knowing that the effort will warm me up. But, it's dark - 4:00AM start - and humid. I was wishing for another layer. Please, give me something else to remove later... I'll take it. Cold. The only saving grace was the first section gave us a tailwind.

After checking in at 7-Eleven, slugging some hot coffee, and going over brevet card protocols, we were on our way south into the darkness and chilled air. Headlight beams blazing away. Compared to previous weekends, the shoulders of the road didn't seem all that terrible, salt-n-debris-wise, so it was easy going. I was nearly expecting a flat and pothole-fest with the winter onslaught we'd endured, but it wasn't bad. The worst road was actually Antioch, south of 179th street, where construction of some kind has sorta messed up the pavement here. The first test of the day, I managed to climb the hill well enough - but also managed to find all of my gears, and watched as someone clearly much fitter than I danced up the hill and into the darkness - only a taillight remaining. Yikes, I'm outta shape... Part of me wanted to try and chase... which is good for a cyclist, after all ...but I knew I'd pay if I'd tried. Next time, next time... patience...

This is the attendant side-note for 2010: get out, and hit some "racer" rides this spring. Get faster, even if you don't plan to use it.

As the morning progressed, we approached Louisburg, KS. and the BP Gas station. Time to warm up. Frozen bottles were becoming problematic, and while I was doing my best to stay hydrated it was difficult with all of the ice clogging the nozzles, and trying to unscrew the tops with gloved hands was a dangerous prospect. A little hot water from the coffee machine, a little microwave activity, and we were back in business - for a while anyways. This time, I'd leave the spouts open between drinks! This isn't a stop I'd normally take on the way out, but MAN... it was essential to fluid-up, and take a nature break. My breakfast was sticking, so far.. but not eating or drinking enough was not a way to start this ride. Nutrition: this time, I figured I'd return once again to my old friend Sustained Energy for a little while - if not trained, if not conditioned, perhaps getting the correct amount of calories would help? I tend to ignore my own notes sometimes, and float back into old formulas - even after I've written them off. That's chronicled a lot in these pages. Haven't had time to order any Carboplex, or anything else, convinced the c-stores wouldn't do it this time, so I picked up some of the special Hammer sauce. This time, to prevent the old "where do I put all this powder?" problem, I tried #3 on Hammer's recommendation: paste. Mixing scoops of SE with small amounts of water - flavoring with Hammer Gel (chocolate) to taste - until the consistency of pancake batter is reached, and pouring that into Hammer Gel flasks. Tasted good, like Chocolate Hammer gel with "something" in it. Nice. Several hours of fuel stored in a small space; as long as I drink the correct amount of water to process it, I'm good. Frozen bottles, though ... in temperatures cold enough to keep the SE mixture stable for the whole ride, frozen water bottles make it hard to take in enough water to help it work... and it was a growing problem.

After the BP station, and trying to ward off the shivers with a few good hills on Metcalf near 311th Street, the sky started to lighten a bit. I knew there wouldn't be much warmth, but the sun had to help. Finally the headlight beams were offset by the appearance of the road's shoulders, then houses and trees stood out, finally clouds; orange, pink, purple... and then a gloriously huge orange ball of sunshine. Ahhh... I swear, it felt just a twinge warmer, right then. At least, my soul felt it. Along the shoulder of US-69, approaching 359th street, I let out a yelp of happiness... Cycling like this, it's magic. The cold, the frozen bottles - all forgotten in an instant. A huge migration of small birds happened to be passing right over the highway at that moment, from south to north in huge, swirling tubes of flight - each bird seeming to follow its neighbor, and the whole writhing mass tumbling and filling the sky, almost at arm's reach it seemed. Tweeting and diving, occasionally splitting to evade the perceived threat of a passing car on the highway, then joining back together again, all the while moving north and west - tens of thousands of birds, easily. Long distance cycling - I've said before - is mental, and part of the addiction of cycling is "payoff" like this moment ... for every low point I tend to lament about, there is an equal and opposite high. You had to be there, at that moment, to know what I mean - maybe you've been lucky enough to experience it for yourself, but it was surreal and divine - and it seemed like we three riders were the only one's in the world witnessing it. For a brief moment, it was like floating.

I knew this was going to be a rebuilding day, but the feeling of not being able to push when you have a tailwind is a frustrating feeling. I even reached down at one point and released the rear brake caliper's quick-release lever, because I thought the pads were dragging. They weren't.

I was thrilled to see that Jingo Road from 359th to 367th was now paved -- nothing wrong with gravel, mind you and this was one of my favorite sections because of it, but this should invite more riders to try this route -- but I was a little concerned that something might be happening with the old section of Us-69 that'd been sitting dormant since the 60's. Maybe it was just clean-up from the construction, hard to tell - but I kinda hope they keep that old strip of concrete back in the weeds. I like it there.

Jingo road always seems really long, and I was ready for some food at the Casey's in La Cygne... getting the overwhelming feeling that we'd never get there. A couple random dogs, a new water tower? And a really cool view of the orange sun reflecting off the reservoir with the powerplant's twin stacks billowing steam into the cold air - and reminding me of the wind direction.

Finally at the Casey's, potato cheese bites all around. Getting some hot food into my body was such a relief, and the hot coffee was oh-so-nice on the hands. I microwaved my gloves until they were dry and toasty, and the three of us did the usual card-signing routine, bathroom rotation, and rumination of the miles ahead.

"Only 20 miles, right, to the halfway?"

"yep..." I said between bites.

"Is it hilly?"

"a little, yeah..." I was trying hard not to under- or over-sell the middle section of this route, because it's all relative to your experiences. Truthfully, I was also trying hard not to remind myself how hilly it really was in areas. Gorgeous, totally worth the trip - but, yes, hilly in places.

Prepare for sad rant on the state of highway funding and engineering in the early 21st century -- After crossing over the horribly boring and clearly budget-driven new concrete deck bridge on K-152 which takes us over the Marias des La Cygne river....

...seriously, even if its only cosmetic, I think it would have been neat for the designers to have used the old upper truss section of the original bridge as ornamentation along the sides of the new bridge. Just repaint it, and bolt it to the concrete. That bridge made La Cygne unique, and it's just gone now. ...okay, that's all I'll say...

... we turned south once again onto Linn Co 1095 highway for the middle 40 miles of the ride. Pleasanton was in our sights at last, and the sun coming up had actually made it possible to unzip things a little, and consider removing the wind-proof headband. Still, even with the sun getting higher in the sky, that cold northwest wind was still there - essentially it was turning into a day where not a single core layer would be shed, just minor zipper adjustments here and there.

First indication of my outta-shapeness came with the first good hill. I won't call it a cramp, not a full-on lock-up, but more of a tightness, a fatigue, and pre-cramp. Both legs. This is about the time where I'd begin to find my new baseline for the season. Don't get me wrong -- with March 27th a month away as I rode, and the way the winter has been, I knew what I was riding for today: a finish. The hydration problems of the morning were finally thawed out, but it was a game of catch-up. It's frustrating, knowing that hydration drives just about everything in cycling (for me), and not being able to follow you own rules. With that first hill still hot in my legs, I drank more water and popped an electrolyte tab or two.

The conversation was good, dogs few and far between, as was traffic. Not a bad morning at all, but I can't wait until a couple more weeks when hopefully some green will appear, maybe some color in the trees and in the fields. With the moisture we've had here, it should be an explosion of spring... today, the stark browns and bare trees looked a little depressing against the bright blue sky - in-which there wasn't a cloud to be seen. If nothing else, I could finally see my shadow on a bike ride! It'd been too long.

Arriving at Pleasanton, and feeling good about making the halfway mark, I was beginning to feel the effects of not eating very much - not even my SE paste. I don't know if I'm out of practice, or what - but I just didn't eat very much. D'Mar was kind enough to offer up some Fig Netwons, but I foolishly bagged them for later. I bought some Gardetto's snack mix, and ended up bagging most of that, also. The nutrition I really should have been eating for the return to La Cygne would spend most of the next section hanging out in my back pockets. The new rando folks were drinking and eating, had a few complaints here and there - but really were doing quite well! I'm not sure if I really had any preconceptions about how long we'd be riding together at the start - D'Mar was clearly in better shape, more trained - and despite L'Mar's talks about not liking hills she was going better than I was in places. Now, however, the return trip was in our faces -- and the headwind.

Hydration was catching up as nature breaks were coming more frequently - but the food deficit was going to start becoming more real. There is a new gas pipeline head along this middle section of route now - which is interesting - but outside the fenceline is a porta-john! Sweet! So, I answer the call... something usually impossible on this very exposed road. Nary a tree to stand behind. Back on the bike quickly, I proceeded to try and catch back up to my companions - but it would take miles and miles to do it. After turning a corner, the first big hill was already looming - and the hills are worse on the return trip here. I could see the bright orange vests (good job on visibility, guys!) of my fellow riders, but couldn't seem to reel them in. I slogged along into the headwind, which - I'm sorry, the forecasters were wrong on this one again - was stronger than the advertised 8 MPH. I've ridden this route into a 20-25 MPH headwind, and it was not that bad today - but trying to set fatigue aside, this was no 8-MPH wind. No way. I looked down at my bike computer, and then learned not to bother.

More pain, more pre-cramping, and nausea? Yikes... either I was face-to-face with my old nemesis (the 80-mile wall) or I was just in horrible shape.. maybe both. This section was a struggle. On the 2nd hill, I just KNEW that I was done for. I remember writing this a long time back, I think it was the March ride - R-12 vol.1, no.2, where I felt like I just wanted to stop, get off, and walk this monster hill. I almost did this time. I even looked up and watched as D'Mar (a tad closer this time but still at least 1/4 mile ahead) was actually zig-zagging up the climb once or twice, to get the RPMs up. With traffic not on my side upon reaching the same space, I couldn't copy that move -- and the direct mash up the grade was hurting me. Knees, fine. Lungs, fine... but my legs felt dead, and my gut hollow. I could feel every pound of winter mass. I managed to make it up, without dismounting. Things crossed my mind, like making a phone call at La Cygne.

After the climbs subsided, I felt like things would improve. I mentally checked the middle section off the radar, and focused on La Cygne. Pizza, fries, whatever junk I could get my hands on. I wasn't going to be picky. However, as soon as I turned right, and headed back east on K-152, it hit me like a lightswitch had been flicked: bonk. The hole in my gut got bigger and I felt dizzy, really tired, and leaden - all at once. While not completely debilitating, it wasn't going to get better. Even my upper body faltered, like I was tired of holding myself upright. I watched as my companions advanced up the road, and - even with a slight tailwind - watched my speed drop like a rock. I maintained balance, kept from getting wobbly, and just focused on continuing to pedal lightly. If I stopped spinning, I'd lock up for sure. Two miles to Casey's, I can almost smell it... just pedal. All the while, stupidly, the nausea of the previous dozen miles became clearly a sign that - while I didn't WANT to - I should have eaten something. My back pockets were full, but my tank was empty. I squirted some SE paste into my mouth... but couldn't seem to swallow it. Ugh.... dude, what are you *doing* out here? Thoughts of that phone call crept into my head again.

Randonneurs tend not to quit... we tend to wait. Wait fifteen minutes. Everything in long-distance riding lasts fifteen minutes. Get to Casey's, eat something, relax, don't think... don't call anyone... don't make any decisions. Not yet.

Finally: cheese pizza, potato bites, chocolate milk, a 5-Hour Energy shot, and some Fig Newtons. Remembering stories of people blowing food all over the inside window of c-stores and onto gas-station sidewalks, I was carefully chewing and drinking water while I ate... and instead of nausea I felt that welcome surge of life come back into my legs, arms, neck, and mind. Like waking from a dream-state almost, not really clear on how much time has elapsed, I double checked my brevet card to make sure it'd been signed already - it had. Wow, man... nice goin'. I now think I have another "worst case" baseline for how long I can ride without eating much of anything. Not something to repeat.

At about 1:00pm, back eastbound on K-152, the damage was done. I was alive, awake, and fueled - but the thrashing my legs had been given over the first 85 miles of this ride wasn't going to right itself from the saddle. No making up time, no miracles, no showing off. Just make it home. All-in-all, the day had been pretty productive: we may have gone out too hard, but it hadn't seemed like it. Instead of trimming the minutes to each control like I'd done in 2008 on a couple occasions, we were sitting comfortably with over an hour to spare at any given time, often more than that. The new riders, despite their original nervousness, were proving to "have the stuff" - no real complaints, no doubts... if it took every last minute, they were going to finish. It was hard all around -- but the headwind and the trials of the morning were taking their toll. The long march back from La Cygne was on.

The last third of this ride has to be checked off in sections. K-152. Jingo. The Highway. Metcalf, south of Louisburg. Metcalf, north of Louisburg. 199th. Antioch. 179th. Each section was a mental check-off, and some were faster than others. Some where embarrassingly slow. But, I was re-learning: feeling the effects of the lunch I ate at La Cygne, I re-wired the connection that food + water = feel good = push. Somewhere along the way I've definitely made the transition from a racer-wannabe mindset to a randonneur mentality: Real food, instead of engineered food. While Carboplex is perfect, adding zero taste and zero texture to the water it is mixed with, I just can't drive myself to mindlessly consume things like SE anymore. It worked for a while today, but I grew very tired of it too early in the ride. Now, I was working out of the feed bag that I'd stocked in Pleasanton - something I should have been eating from before things got so bad. Leftover potato bites, fig newtons, snack mix -- all of it went in while I rode, and I think that made the difference after Louisburg. I bought more fig newtons there at the BP station and made a habit of taking one in every few miles for the rest of the ride. The tank empties faster as you ride longer, and I wasn't going to let myself slip again. Electrolyte tabs, and water. In, in, in. Another nature break. Hydrated, nice. Keep pedaling.

The doubt was leaving. I felt like a finish was within reach. The clock wasn't where I'd have preferred it, but I was still in the time windows - so I focused on that positive. Even the "practiced" rando-riders forget little things from time to time, and I chalk this ride up to just that. I knew what I needed to do early on, but frozen bottles made things tough - which built a deficit that I could have been smarter about overcoming. Without having ridden too far for six months, things were turning out okay. How I would feel the next day, that remained to be seen. It wasn't going to be pretty!

After another nature break at 199th and Metcalf, D'Mar and L'Mar caught up and we proceeded to roll along together again, which was nice. I don't know where I found the push to open up a gap between us, but apparently the return to correct fueling helped. The only final shortcoming, right at the Shell station at 199th and US-69, my right hamstring locked up hard. REALLY hard... I coasted down the grade, thankful it was there for me at that moment, and tried to massage it out. More water, more electrolytes to the rescue... I was burning through fuel much faster now, and my legs were clearly finished for the day. More food, in. Nine miles left.

A long downhill on Antioch, and the two mile climb up 179th street to finish off the day... with the sun getting lower in the western sky. Wow... LONG day... indeed. A final card signing, all of us finishing together give or take, and a quick ride back to the house to get a hot shower. A LONG hot shower.

Couple of things for next time: simple, cheap things: While I'd love a proper handlebar bag, my bike really isn't made for one - so I think I'll opt from something I've used in the past, something that L'Mar had on her ride: a triathlete's stem-bag. Small, but very accessible: if the food is in front of me, I'll probably be more likely to eat it. That ought to leave one off my back pockets open for another trick that ended up being a bit of a "duh": if the bottles are freezing, put one in your back pocket! A difficult as it sounds to put a cold bottle against your back when it's freezing outside, I think the alternatives must be weighed. Ride harder to stave off the chill, and have liquid water to drink. Thankfully, a few more weeks and we won't have to worry about that anymore.

BIG congrats to D'Mar and L'Mar, husband and wife team that came out with me for their first EVER trip well beyond the century marker! It was a big undertaking for a February in Kansas, and personally I don't know if I would have preferred to try my hand at long-distance in the less-than-ideal conditions we'd started into. They are strong riders, both, and I hope they'll be back. It was a pleasure... After reviewing this write-up it seems weird saying that.. because it wasn't always a pleasant ride, but it wasn't because of the company.

I'd eluded to it before -- long-distance cycling has really high "highs", but also has really low "lows". Sharing the experience with someone else is always rewarding because of the memories it inspires and the stories it creates. I think cyclists in general have a special bond... but long-distance cyclists? It's a gateway to lifelong friendships, for sure. You can't go out and suffer like that with another human being and not connect on some level. Enough with the mush, but I love this sport.

For me, for now... rest, recover. The hamstring issue, 48-hours later, has righted itself and I don't feel anything lingering aside from a LOT of fatigue. A short to-the-bus-stop commute this morning, and I can feel it for sure... I can barely push my easy-single-speed up any hills. Hydrate and ride carefully, and I should be more than ready for what's next.

Thanks for reading... stay tuned for another one in March!