Bicycle Dreams comes to KC, Feb. 18th

"Bicycle Dreams, the award-winning feature-length documentary about the Race Across America (RAAM), will premiere in Kansas City at the Screenland Crossroads Theatre on Saturday, February 18 at 7 p.m.

The screening is sponsored as a benefit for BikeWalkKC.

"To capture the mammoth scope of the race, Stephen Auerbach, the director and producer of Bicycle Dreams, worked around the clock with a complement of eighteen cameras. Embedded camera operators traveled inside the racers' support crew vehicles, gaining unprecedented access to the cyclists and their teams. Their footage captured emotional and physical breakdowns, late-night strategy sessions, and great moments of personal triumph, all in intimate detail. Auerbach then took on the enormous task of editing hundreds of hours of material and forming it into a powerful and inspiring look inside the most difficult race on the planet."

"Bicycle Dreams has won major awards at the Fallbrook and Breckenridge film festivals, as well as the Yosemite, Grand Rapids, Red Rock and All Sports LA film festivals, among many others.  Critical acclaim for the film continues to pour in from all sources."

Tickets will be $10 in advance and $15 at the door the night of the show. To purchase advance tickets, order online at www.imathlete.com/events/bicycledreams.

For more information about the event, go to www.bikewalkkc.org.

For more information on the film, go to www.bicycledreamsmovie.com or visit us on Facebook here for more info on the KC event

Media contact: Garry Harrington  603-209-5010  gharrington3165@hotmail.com

Most of the above comes directly from the press release announcing this event, however, I wanted to interject my own observations here, as well.  If you have ever thrown a leg over a bicycle for any length of road or trail, I highly recommend viewing this film.  Little else captures the drama, excitement, and struggle of RAAM so perfectly as Bicycle Dreams.  I've owned the DVD for a while now, and I reference it for motivation and inspiration whenever the mood strikes; and it never fails to deliver.

In June 2003, I stood on the shoulder of US-54 and watched several RAAM competitors ride past - including local hero Bryon Rieper, crewed by the Warbird (at the wheel of the follow-van at the time).  Though each encounter with the riders lasted only seconds, the high emotions I felt found me physically jumping up and down, clapping and shouting encouragement like a rabid European fan on an Alpine pass.  Realizing the significance of where I was standing, just outside Iola, KS., was equally awe-inspiring, and can be described in one word:  "halfway."  Watching Bicycle Dreams encapsulates those same feelings and spreads them over 104 minutes.

Get a sitter, take a significant cycling-other, and grab this rare opportunity to view this masterwork on the big screen.

Head games

I stumbled upon another interesting tip while reading a popular ultra-distance blog, involving music, which I might try later this spring.  Like the author of that piece (I'll link later), I often find myself with music drifting into and out-of my head in the middle of riding the odd 200km brevet, yet I'm hesitant to ride with headphones.  The songs just pop into my head, and I've been okay with that.  I've cataloged a great deal of these songs in the footnotes of most of my ride posts, as sometimes they subtly speak to my state of mind for that particular venture - but it never occurred to me to put them all into a single playlist.  Now, for commutes and training rides it's still very doubtful that I'd use headphones.. even a single earbud.  Traffic and such - in town - not a good idea in my book, though I'm sure a lot of folks do it every day and don't end up a statistic.  However, when distances extend beyond 300km, later this spring - in those darker times when my mind is looking for ways to no longer participate in the task at hand -  maybe it's advantageous to have those tunes that would pop into my head in better times ready to go?  Maybe it'd be a clever trick to get through those tougher overnight hours, or when emotions run south for an hour here or there after fatigue sets in.  Hard to tell -- but an iPod shuffle takes up very little space, after all.  While I think this is definitely a terrific plan for the PA system strapped to the front of the RAAM support vehicle, off in some distant future, time will tell if I join the earbud-club on the next 600k.  Still on the fence.  However, personal squeamishness aside, I suppose it is indeed one more item for the mental toolkit towards randonneuring success... just to be used with a grain of caution, of course.

Carry on!

Post-script:  Reviewing my personal playlist, I struggled with omitting certain songs and came up with a way to get around the hesitation to include them:  if you're as musucally ecclectic as I profess to be, it's often very confusing as to WHY certain songs (that, in popular company, I'd probably admit to "hating") pop into my head while on long rides.  I've found it best not to limit yourself here.  Add it to the playlist.  It's a very special place that randonneuring takes your mind - hours in the saddle, mindless pedalling, endorphins, nutritional peaks and valleys, and mental wandering...and of the thousands of songs I've listened to and called "favorite", it's weird what actually ends up repeating in my brain sometimes.  Upon logging post-ride notes it's often the reaction of, "why was it THAT song???"

It may be your subconscious' way of telling you that you really DON'T "hate that song".  Perhaps there's a certain rhythm, a chord change, a specific lyric that is relevant... and you have to "suffer" through the first half of it to get there.  'Come into my Life' by Robert Plant comes to mind... where my first instinct is to skip the track, but six minutes later I remember why I love it.  Let it happen, don't hesitate to include it - even if in certain circles you'd be ridiculed for it.  There is no shame in music.  Coming from a childhood upbringing that included ABBA to Zappa and quite literally dang-near everything in between, there is little reason for me to enjoy listening to overplayed Top40 tripe like Katy Perry or Breathe Carolina ... but I do anyways.  I have no wonders about HOW my tastes got so varied to begin with - I'm very glad they are:  thanks, Mom & Dad.  When it doubt, just go with it.

If you employ the above method of reverting to an earbud during hour 21 of a 600km epic, and "that song you hate" comes on, you will grumble, you will laugh, and then you will sing along.... but, most importantly, you won't be giving a moments thought to the saddle sores and aching legs you were trying to forget in the first place.

A call to action - yes, even here.

I won't spend a lot of time on this - we'll return to regular programming with the very next post.

However, I think this deserves the space. 

 

I urge all of you to take action on any of the myriad sites  that offer petitions or conduits to contact congress and the house on the PIPA / SOPA issue.

Do it today, sign a petition.

Call your local representative.

Email them.

Do something, though, if you feel strongly about this - for OR against.

 

 Visit this site, today.

 

Thank you.

Dodging the bullet

Record warmth for January, it seems -- if only on average... it's been unseasonably warm for weeks at a time now, with only a single, minor snow event since the year began.  I was a "good boy" and rolled the dice on a permanent date that was well outside the view of weather forecasts and then held my fingers crossed for three weeks.  Amazingly, though it was chillier than I'd have liked, we pulled it off.  In the 48 hours leading up to the ride start the temperature went from nearly 60 degrees, down into the teens, snow, finally rebounding back up into the 40's.  Talk about dodging the bullet.  As I sit to write out some scattered notes from the road, it has already been back in the 60's again.  A very weird January for Kansas.

It was neat and appropriate, however, seeing just a tiny bit of snow here and there on the roadsides as we made our way out of night's darkness and into a fresh mid-winter morning.  You may notice the "we"... and not the royal version this time:  I was not alone.  Another weird experience for January!  Taking advantage of the relatively warmer climes, I was host to four other riders on this voyage - a rare treat.  Alex S., Gary McD, Terry B. came out to share the experience, along with Randy R. whom we bumped into in Ottawa while out for a day of exploring on his old steel steed.  While I've attended a couple of group rides here and there over the fall months, including a great ride out to the Louisburg Cider Mill for New Year's Eve, I hadn't enjoyed company on a long ride since July.  Although, I have to say my brain certainly isn't used to having company... I still caught myself staring off at the road and keeping my thoughts largely to myself, instead of striking up conversations - however, as cycling goes I think everyone follows roughly the same playbook:  there isn't a tentative feeling of needing to fill the void with words "just because".  Sometimes just having another person on a bike next to you is plenty, and I think everyone "gets it".  I like that, even though it's taken me a while to get there myself without feeling like I'm being rude.

The whole ride was almost for naught.  A sharp pair of eyes caught the fact that the first controls register computer was off by about 16 minutes, producing our first receipt with a time-stamp of 6:47am... something that, while explainable and possibly verifiable later, would have effectively rendered our permanent ride 'void' on paper.  No jumping the gun in randonneuring!  Instead, we hung out, chatted, and this gave a little amount of time to run back to the cars and drop off a few layers - as the temperature was 12 degrees warmer than forecast!  Things have a way of working out - and though we knew we were "wasting time", we waited, got a good receipt, and rolled off into the morning air together.  This is precisely what the 1-hour first control buffer is for, I suppose.  While part of me was anxious that we were already "behind", I also knew that stiff winds and hills awaited - and there was really no reason to be in a hurry.

Wild temperature swings and anomalously warm spells in winter usually mean "wind", and that was certainly the case.  We'd be battling the wind heading west for most of the first half of the ride - but the breaks from it resulted in unexpected tailwind triumphs on the southbound sections.  We made our way past Shawnee Mission Park, up and down sweeping hills over some terrific scenery, which is normally obscured by darkness because of earlier start times.  Today, the sunrise wasn't far behind our departure - another tidbit my brain wasn't used to.  I suppose I've had my fair share of night-time training over the last few months - Back in November I didn't see the sun until I was 50 miles deep.  This time out, we barely needed to have our taillights on for 30 minutes.  Not bad.  What was better was being able to see what was normally hidden on this route - the Princeton Roundabout.  It skirts western Shawnee, KS., heads out towards Desoto, Clearview City and the old Sunflower Army Ammunition Plant and its signature quadruple watertowers, dances with state route 10 here and there (in places I think we are actually on the old highway alignment), and out to Eudora for the first control.

The Cedar Creek section is especially mystical:  we dive down into a valley that contains several small branches of the Kansas River, and the resulting terrain is otherworldly compared to the usual vast fields and cropland west of the KC metro.  Huddled in the shadow of huge outcroppings and deep into patches of forest, the creeks rippling along nearby, its easy to let myself get transported off to rural places I've only imagined of.  Rustic houses, dilapidated barns scattered about, the road twisting and turning - following the river instead of the grid - long morning shadows creating an interplay of flashing sunshine between bare-branched trees, foraging animals scurrying about, birds at play... and a few cyclists silently taking it all in, gradually exiting the area in timeless elegance across an old truss bridge.  Picture postcard mastery.

Sidebar:  even if you have to drive there to see it, go see that bridge before it is gone.  The county has been holding true to a long-standing 50-year bridge replacement plan for the entire area, and the last decade has seen many of these cool, character-rich bridges replaced with soulless, modern concrete decks.  The Norman Rockwell-esqe images of rural America are beginning to fade into obscurity as civil engineering firms rush to rehabilitate crumbling infrastructure.  Coming across one of these bridges on a long bike ride is one of the things that make long distance cycling worthwhile - and they are becoming increasingly rare.  This bridge (link above) is literally one of the last ones open to traffic in Johnson County.  If you are planning a bike ride of any length, the Bridgehunter website is an excellent way to find these unique structures and include them in your route plan.

We rejoin our riders emerging from Eudora refueled and ready for the next stage.  The sun is getting higher in the sky, and the wind is finally favorable.  Alex, ever the strong rider, is opening a big gap with the strong tailwind - and before long he's WAY up the road.  Spurred on by having a target up the road I can't help but push my own pace to the limits - and, foolishly riding outside myself, I am eating up the road with a smile.  Along with spirited climbing over the hills leading out of the Cedar Creek valley, I am beginning to cut into my reserves far to early... typical, and at the time I don't even realize my mounting mistakes.  While there is one thing to be said for training by chasing stronger riders, my brain is excited about riding with others too much to care about the consequences.

I burn a fair amount of reserves, and don't take in nearly enough calories for the return to a westerly direction at Douglas County highway 460, where the wind returns with a mighty slap to the face.  Pace is reduced to a crawl, and at times its a lot to ask to even maintain double-digit speeds.  Nuts.  Absolutely nothing to block the gale out here.  Head down, I start to shove out the pace.  Vinland arrives, and I take a moment to take in the old church and some of the stone foundation buildings before turning south again to enjoy the tailwind... which, "strangely", this time isn't as enjoyable.  Not as much push remaining... wonder why THAT is? (ha)  Alas, I still have some climbing left in the legs for the grunter of Baldwin Pass that awaits.  I manage to make a good personal showing up the climb - possibly the best and most controlled I've ever climbed the beast, keeping breathing and cadence in check... so, while I still have something to learn in the mental control department when it comes to riding with other people, I'm pleased with how things have progressed over the months.

Baldwin City, and control #2.  The group comes together again within minutes, and we all do our control routines and mount back up for the next leg.  Thankfully, we're still to be heading south for many miles to come, so the NW wind will be our friend for a few hours more.  Whew... Even while I stuffed another Powerbar Harvest into my gut, it wasn't enough by a longshot.  The tailwind would continue to provide the illusion of energy, despite the protest from my gut.  Poor food choices the evening before had also caught up, but I was focused ... get to the halfway, and things will improve.

Alex, Terry and Gary were pictures of pacing and control, while I yo-yo'd a bit here and there on Ohio and Tennessee roads before finally arriving at K-68 for the final push west into the increasingly strong cross/headwind.

Ottawa, and the welcome sight of the Casey's there - where Alex and I stop for resupply and restroom.  Surprise, there's Randy R., out for a day's ride, and we welcome him to tag along for a bit.  While I was quick to complain about the temperatures, I had to remind myself that they were still above normal (!), and everyone was out riding today - so, the more the merrier!  Always a treat to stumble upon someone that happens to be headed the same way you are.  We mount back up and head towards the next control at Princeton, KS. a few miles south.  While this section is also a major highway corridor, the shoulder is nice and wide with well-made and thoughtful rumble strips.  Much better... and still a slight tailwind to help.  I remember this section from doing the route in July, and the fact that it trends uphill almost the entire way to Princeton.  With Alex still fresh and fueled, and me still trying to stay latched to his wheel, I begin to burn through the rest of my reserves - and find myself seldom reaching to the back pockets to put the energy back.  Uh-oh...

We reach Princeton to find Terry and Gary (thanks again to the local Ottawa resident that indicated he'd seen cyclists dressed like us heading south, which prompted our departure from the Casey's) hanging out and taking a much-deserved rest.  At this point, I'm a little dazed.  I take a full four laps of the c-store and for some reason I can't find ANYTHING that looks appetizing - even though I need food.  The mild hassle of being a vegetarian jumps up to bite me, as the pizza smells really good -- but it's all with meat.  Gads... I finally default to just grabbing something random and buying it, just to keep moving.  While the rest of the group has been smart, and has stayed consistent, my follies have caught up.  I'm supposed to be the experienced one here, yet the fun of trying to catch Alex and waging personal war on the headwinds has put me into rookie-mistake land.  Nobody's fault but my own, the only thing to do is try and rebuild.  While the mental toughness training that comes from riding 200k after 200k alone, there is still a need to remind myself that personal pacing is of the utmost importance when I get with a group.  Even when he's slow, Alex is fast... and me trying to work on speed in January is foolish, yet, there I was.

In a daze I made a few decisions about clothing, packed a layer onto the rear rack, and made my way back out onto the road.  Gary and Terry had left a dozen minutes or so earlier, on the notion that we'd catch them up, and Alex left a little bit after them.  It was me and Randy now, and more importantly it was me beginning to admit that I had a problem.  My pace began to slip, then my mind... I announced my condition, and shortly after was unable to maintain my speed.  John Brown highway spread out before me, there was a slight tailwind... but, there was nothing in the legs but lead.  I allowed myself to be upset about it for a couple minutes, then proceeded to engage on-the-road-recovery-plan Alpha.  Watch the clock... this will only last fifteen minutes:  drink every five... and start eating.  You have back-pockets full of rations, and you haven't touched hardly any!!!  Get to it... but be careful. I start to slowly feed the giant hole growing in my gut... The last fig newton from the START... and Hammer stuff... every few minutes, just chew and swallow.  I watch patiently as Randy advances up the road... then, on the horizon I see yellow safety vests... and it feels like I'll never reach them.  Patience...   five minutes pass, then ten... a hill... a water tower... Texas Road... a 4-way stop... five more minutes... more food... drink... and the push slowly returns.  The problem with this is that there is no resting now:  having pushed to the brink, I will spend the rest of the ride putting calories in nearly as fast as my body uses them.  My stomach growls furiously as soon as I'm finished swallowing the last bite of whatever is in my mouth... and so it will be for the last half of the ride.

As hard as it is to recover from a near-bonk ON the bike, it is possible... but the key is not getting there in the first place.  Keeping in mind that it's far better to keep moving slow than not to move at all, my cadence is in the gutter and my muscles are paying the price - but, I'm moving down the road.  Chin up.... finally, even though it was only minutes, I begin to reel the group back in - and eventually we're all together again, just inside the Osawatomie city limits.

We stop together at the Casey's there, refuel and rest a bit - and the mental recovery for me still isn't quite complete:  with all the rushing around for food and restroom, I forget to refill my bottles before leaving the c-store.  Thankfully, I'd end up having enough to make it to Paola and the next control, but literally to the last sip.  Ugh.  "Get it together, 'dude!", I scold myself.  I feel better leaving Osawatomie than I had leaving Princeton - but not quite 100%.  I pull the group out of town, over a group of cool bridges over various creeks and rivers - startling a deer with my loose rendition of some random Elvis tunes that make it past my lips, as my mood recovers.  The pace isn't epic - but it's all I've got.  Not even a train flyby to cheer me up today... but, I'm still with a group, and it's a great feeling - and turning into a great day.  The harrowing feeling of turning north into a waiting headwind for the entire last leg of the ride is held at arms length... the wind, quietly to myself, isn't THAT bad... the sun is out, there are birds heard nearby, and though content to leave nearly everything on despite the warmer temps, I still unzip a little as we turn from north to east in direction.

The group breaks up a little again as my legs remind me that we're not fully "back" yet - but no matter... even the horn of a local attempting to remind us who's road this was (right) can't get me down, but I'm already dreaming of the next stopping point.  We make Paola and the next Casey's in good time - refuel, refill bottles (!), and check in.  Old KC Road is checked off, and Alex's consistency shows as he and Randy enjoy the day in full stride -- strong riders, both.  I, learning my lesson, maintain a sustainable pace and take in the scenery, chat a bit with Gary, and we eventually sorta spread out into our own little realms as we clear Hillsdale and advance towards Spring Hill.  I lose track of Randy, as he peels off for home somewhere in here, and Alex and I regroup at the Casey's store at the north end of town.

Another quick refuel here, and discussions about my condition.  Alex is a class act... a super strong rider, content to hammer it out at the front, he encourages me, gives a few pointers to which I am always open (be not fooled:  whether it's your 120th brevet, or 4th, there is always something to learn - always listen).  Cycling 101... and it's something I perhaps needed to hear:  keeping my cadence up.  Part of my riding style falls back to my days of riding fixed gear - my natural cadence is probably somewhere in the 60-70 range... and that, combined with my caloric shortcomings, was resulting in fatigue and inability to push.  Had I actually been ON a fixed gear today, I might have suffered more... who knows... but now, to get "back in the game" and finish strong, I needed to rev it up a little.  Long story short, it worked.  Despite Alex's promise to finish together, no matter my condition, my refueling and conscious effort to keep the cadence higher resulted in him not having to worry about slowing down and waiting for me.

The last 20 miles were stellar for me, considering.  Alex could have, at any time I'm sure, jumped off the front and finished more quickly -- but he stayed with me.  I adopted a plan to continue through the rest of my rations and put them IN my body instead of carrying them around in my pockets.  I drank every 5 minutes, ate every 15... and combined with the cadence drills, I managed to stay with Alex and not limp along like I might have had I been solo... and, to boot, we managed to work our way through Olathe and then into Shawnee, finally catching sight of Gary and Terry up the road on Renner Blvd.  It looked like we might all finish as a group after all!  Maybe there's something to this whole "90-100 RPM bologna", I thought to myself... (doy, science has proven this is where cyclists are most efficient, yet I still fall into the gear-masher camp more often than not).  Post-ride.... surprise, surprise, my joints aren't as sore, and I don't feel destroyed.  Hmm.  Interesting.  Thanks, Alex, for reminding me of this basic endurance cycling tip, and helping keep me motivated.  A true class act, even as I suggested back on Ridgeview Road "if you happen to get up the road away from me....", he interrupts... "no, no, we finish together..." - and so we did.

We caught up to Gary near 95th Street on Renner, just short of making the green light that Terry advanced up the road through, and stayed roughly together through the carnival of roundabouts prior to 87th Street, to finally stop there at a red light and witness a terrific sunset in the making over our left shoulders.  Not bad at all... with the trials of the wind, and my personal issues, to finish as a group, on a winter ride, without freezing to death, and without hardly needing to worry about turning the lights on at the end... not a bad showing at all!  Figuring in the delay at the first control due to the clock being off, we nearly completed the thing inside ten hours - which is great!  Whether it had taken hours more, I don't care... because I finished it with friends, on what had turned out to be a great day.  Mixed feelings that I might have about the mid-ride challenges aside, all in all - a success for January, and learned a few things about myself ... even if the group-ride-forget-everything factor that jumps up on me occasionally is something you'd think I'd have squared away by now.  Proof that there is indeed always something to learn, even if it's RE-learning.  We all dodged a bullet, weather-wise... and I was lucky enough to have a strong rider like Alex nearby when I needed him, dodging a personal bullet.  I probably would have still finished, but it wouldn't have been with style and resulting smile, that's for sure.

Many thanks to Alex, Gary, Terry and Randy for sharing the ride!

Songs in my head:

There weren't many today... but, interestingly they were loudest when my stomach and ability to push were lowest:

Adele - Someone Like You  <- popular radio tripe, perhaps - but this girl can sing, don't care who you are. 

Ramblin' Man - Allman Brothers  <- the foundry of the modern jam-band, nobody jams and runs riffs like these guys, IMHO.

The Big Bang Theory - The Bare-Naked Ladies <-- after watching a DVR marathon of this show, it doesn't take long for the theme song to take hold... and I honestly, in my own little geeky way, can't think of someplace I'd rather find myself than at Comic-Con '10 when this happened.  As a BNL fan and a BBT fan, how freakin' cool would this have been???

I know there were others... but they were lost somehow between then and now... 

So, that's all folks!

See you in February!

 

 

Over the hump

Officially completed 200k #7 this evening... so, one step closer, and past halfway... feels good, but brain is a little scrambled:  a tough day, conditions-wise, and compounded by some personal mistakes.  They can't all go perfectly, right?  More to come, as usual --- good to be finished... time for food, and rest.  Stay tuned...

Even more winter kit considerations

Even though it's been unseasonably warm here, I'm still preparing myself and gear for more "winter-like" riding - which is sure to come.
The process is reminding me of some things I've read lately, some other things discovered along the way, that bear passing along.
I touched on this recently in a post on preparing for winter riding, so here's a few additions:

While there are lots of ways around the problem, I personally have had issues on occasion trying to use CO2 inflators when it's colder out, specifically when it gets below freezing.  Results may vary, and simply warming them up in a back pocket can solve the issue - but, for a lot more reasons than just "cold", I use a frame pump almost exclusively.  I do keep a couple inflators in the seat bag to get moving quicker when commuting - but for brevets I don't like the idea of running out of air... and it has happened to me before.  If you run CO2 exclusively, and there's nothing wrong with that - don't get me wrong - you might want to carry along a small, "real" pump in the winter:  frame, bottle-cage style, or pocket-sized... but something that can get you moving again on that especially challenging day.  There are even some clever models that are designed to do both - and while I haven't tried one of them specifically, it's a slick idea.

However, even "real" pumps have their problems .  (I keep putting "real" in quotes, because the only real pump is a FLOOR pump... and we're not carrying those on rides, right?)

So, yes:  even pumps can have issues in the cold:  from the Bike Hacks blog, this post is worth a look.  The pump in the post looks a lot like mine, possibly a Blackburn... maybe a Topeak.  In most cases, your local shop may (call ahead) have a small-parts kit supplied by these manufacturers to support quick warranty claims.  Take advantage of this, and offer to pay for the small bits it if you don't REALLY need it.  But, replacement seals, o-rings, pumphead caps for your model are good things to have spares of... they weigh very little and can be stashed in a seatbag kit with ease.  You may never need them, but it's nice when they're there!  On the subject of air, another thing I keep in the seat bag is a Presta-to-Schrader adapter for things like air compressors at gas stations.  While not recommended unless you're careful (for small volume road tires), at least you have a lot of different ways to put air back into a tube.  This is all part of the mantra of successful commuting or randonneuring:  preventing that "come get me" phone call.  Redundancy is good...
 

Of course, if we're talking about air we're talking about the other "F word", and while you may be adept at wrestling a tire on and off a rim when it's warm outside, making quick work of roadside repairs is paramount in colder temperatures.  You'll want to make things easy on yourself, and your hands.  Ever notice that working on anything in the cold makes things like screwdrivers slipping, pliers pinching, bumping your knuckles against something hard... the cold seems to make it all hurt more, right?  Part of avoiding frustration, do-overs, and pinched fingers involves the right tire lever.  There are many different tire levers available, but the mechanic's choice has long been the Quik Stik.  Probably muttered just as often as "where's my 5mm Allen wrench?" is "who took my Quik Stik?".  Better than three of any other lever, in my opinion, the Quik Stik is gold.  Doesn't mar rims, doesn't pinch tubes, great leverage, super strong, light, fast, simple.  Get one.  Get two:  one for home, one for the seat-bag.  Seatbag too short for it?  Trim down the handle, and take it along.  ANY leverage is good on the roadside in the cold.  Don't fumble with the usual three sub-par levers... get ONE good one.  The link is to Amazon, but I know a good local shop that carries these by the bucket in a variety of colors.

Reach that cycling mileage goal in 2011?  Awesome!  Congrats!  Your cyclo'puter is probably exhausted, though... if your display is dimming lately (like mine) it's a good time to consider new batteries before your next big ride.  Sure, sure, not a deal killer -- if you're commuting home and the computer dies the world will still turn on its axis.  However, in the miles-to-next-turn world of randonneuring, it could be a big deal - especially on an unfamiliar route.  As a backup plan here, wear a wristwatch.  If nothing else, you'll know if you're inside the time limits to the next control, you can generally gauge your personal average speed and make an educated guess as to how far you've ridden between turns, and you can even use it for direction finding if the sun is out.  Phones these days are pretty "smart", and you can probably grab an "app for that" in a pinch... but, I'd rather save my phone battery for when I truly need it.  Of course, if you're running a new-fangled GPS computer of some sort, none of this is relevant - but I still prefer getting 12 months from a battery, rather than 12 hours.

Bonk rations.  I always carry an extra energy gel in my seatbag.  You never know when you might need a little pick-me-up or boost if you run out of food or fumble your pocket rations onto the highway.  Like anything else in the seatbag I don't usually have to resort to using it, so when I checked my seat bag contents last month I found it to be reallly expired... well, yeah, it wouldn't have killed me, but it would have been a little thick and gross at best.  So, this is a good time to rotate your rations!  Next time you hit the shop for resupply, by an extra pack of a flavor you love, stash it in your seatbag, and forget about it.  When that c-store that's "always open" is suddenly closed on a long ride, you'll be glad you did.  Better?  Stash two: one for your riding buddy.  A good ride-guide will show you a great road and a cool scenic overlook... a master ride-guide will surprise you with a snack when you unexpectedly run out.  

Riding master you will become... yesss...  </Yoda>

I also mentioned "sanity savers" in that other post - something that can make riding, mentally, easier when the distances extend.  Keeping cable housings from rattling against one another, keeping seatbag contents silent, keeping your computer itself from jiggling around in its own mount all come to mind.  Recently I also performed a few other sanity-saving measures:  A VERY small amount of grease applied between the tops of your shoes and the underside of the Velcro straps that fasten them closed... or ratchet straps, what-have-you.  It's amazing how noisy shoes can get when pedaling up a hill.  A good shoe polish can accomplish the same thing if you have real leather... but most shoes are some kind of synthetic these days.  This keeps the places where parts of the shoe meet from binding and "sqw-creaking" under loads.

Keep your cleats "wet" also:  Phil Wood grease is still my preference for just about anything bike-related - (except the chain) - it just works, and it stays put.  Less can be more, as you don't want to replace little squeaks with a gloppy mess.  Small amounts under the "nose" of your cleats, or underneath the pedal bindings where the cleats will click in can help keep things silent and smooth.  Sometimes noises pop up while already riding, like after getting caught in a considerable rain-shower.  An effective method that works when cleat noises materialize out on the road:  lip-balm.  It's waxy, it's cheap, it stays put.  It's great to take along for your lips in winter anyways, so if you have some in your pack, roll out some excess from the familiar, tiny tube and remove a glob with your finger... apply to the cleat where it meets the pedal, or, to the pedal directly - either way, the annoying cleat noises will soon be gone.  While modern, 3-bolt, Look and Shimano plastic road cleats have been updated with high PTFE content at these interfaces, all-metal SPD cleats can still get noisy.

Disclaimer:  Grease cleats with caution and at your own risk.  You should be pretty familiar with clipless pedal entry and engagement before you go smearing slippery stuff all over your pedals:  less is more, even if it guarantees a need for reapplication later.  Limit application to the underside of the pedal bindings, not the upper surfaces.  You absolutely don't want to make the bottoms of your shoes or the upper surfaces of your pedals slippery to the point of danger.  This is especially risky when departing from a traffic light -- sometimes, even after years of use, I sometimes don't QUITE get clipped in... instead of trying to feel around for engagement while coasting across an intersection, I just pedal lightly to get across the intersection and out of traffic, and worry about fully clipping in once across.  Take care not to get grease or even lip balm on the tread of your shoes, the pedal body, or the bottom surface of the cleat which doesn't actually contact the pedal.  Clip in securely before giving it the beans, lest you slip and take a veneer of your shin.  

These tips aren't only handy for winter riding - this is just a good time of year to go through your stuff.

I hope you found something useful here!

Now...dress warm... go ride!  Enjoy!

Unbelievable weather

While I'm sure by posting this I'm looking weather-death in the face and spitting, I simply can't believe the weather we've been having lately here in eastern Kansas.  It's making me a little uneasy heading into yet another weekend where temperatures are set nearly 20 degrees above normal for this time of year -- and strangely, it's not that windy... which is usually a partner to unseasonable temps in this part of the country.  I keep waiting for winters "other shoe" to drop.  Diving into weather-geek mode for a moment - despite the low sun angle and the shorter period of daylight, we're looking at mid-60's today.  In January.  In Kansas.  That's 30 degrees above normal.  I mean ... I can't remember the last time...(which is why NOAA has climate data, so I don't HAVE to remember).  Checking climatalogical data, the record for this date was set at 68ºF in 1956... and we have a slim chance of beating that today.  Shorts and short sleeves in January for the commute home? 

 

As much as I like to say "back in aught-three....", I'm compelled to here for contrast -- because back in '03 I recorded my coldest commute EVER, at minus-9ºF, on a dark January 23rd night.  To think that I'd be riding home THIS evening without so much as something to cover my ears is amazing... but I'm certainly not complaining!  That's Kansas, however -- the state of extremes:  that SAME YEAR, only two weeks earlier on January 8th, 2003, we broke the HIGH record of 71ºF.  Anything is possible...and as they say, if you don't like the weather, wait. 

 

I really should have scheduled January's R-12 ride for THIS week... dangit...  Instead, I'm on for the 14th, which is still a week away.  Quite a bit can and will happen in that coming week, so I'm keeping my fingeres fully crossed.  What may instead be on tap is a proper January 200k, however, complete with icy wind and snow -- and to that I say, "bring it".  I think the only thing negative about this long run of above-normal temperatures is that it really screws with acclimation.  If a cold-snap... even a seasonal return ...awaits for the coming 200k, it'll be tough to get out of the van.  It could be WAY, WAY worse... thinking to the last couple of years when we were still crusted over in ice and had snowbanks at every intersection, I need to be cautious what I complain about when it comes to R-12 pursuits in this part of the nation.  I still have a project on my list that involves a true "do-it-all" winter brevet machine -- easy-ratio fixed gear, 26" wheels, big-volume tires with studs, fenders, front and rear racks, wide drop bars with Bar Mitts.  While I'm certain the current steed will handle just about anything once the roads are treated, the prospect of having a world-beater, no-excuses machine at the ready is exciting, even if it's only for commutes.  Right now, a poorly-timed winter storm would put a few nails in the R-12 coffin.  I really don't want to have to road-trip south to finish this one... but I suppose I would.

 

For now, I have to figure out how to store all the layers I wore this morning on the way in, when temps were just above freezing.  It's not easy planning for days with 45º temperature swings!!

 

Roll on, and smile!

 

 

Happy New Year

Happy New Year, everyone! 

  

I've tried to be careful not to construct false drama in previous posts or tease that I might be potentially announcing something here, like a big goal for 2012.  I've been scouring websites, calendars, ride lists, yes... but I haven't written any registration fee checks.  Probably won't, not quite yet.  I'm letting things take their course, in a matter of speaking, and not really setting myself up to stress about anything specific yet, riding-wise. 

 

There are still a lot of frontiers to discover - after all this time on a bike I love the fact that I still - essentially - have only scratched the surface.  I have tossed around ideas about my first 1,000km brevet, my first 1,200km, also... but, alas, there are worthwhile things that will stand in the way of qualification for such pursuits.  Finding time to get a complete SR-series before June 2nd (the deadline for qualification for most 1,200km grand-randos) will prove tough, since I already know I have to miss a couple key ride dates locally this spring.  I know for sure I want to test myself at the 400km level, and really try to make a 600km happen as well - with a secondary goal of riding it straight-through.  While I call myself a randonneur, if successful it will only be my 2nd 600km ever.  Lots left to discover, indeed.  

 

Further still, no matter what I do on the road bike, I still haven't done any real mountain biking... or 'cross... and haven't ridden fixed gear in over 5-years... and with both kids approaching local MS-ride minimum age limits, my next big thing may involve their first big thing, if the interest holds.  While I still have my own goals, I get more excited at the prospect of setting them off on their own journey of self-discovery - and I'll toss out all my own aspirations to help that happen, if it is indeed what THEY want.

  

Tejas... yeah, yeah.... the ride date is in late September, which is after me and the kids will be back in school next fall.  I suppose it could work, but I'd been holding out hope for a true summer date, like in August.  It's still on my list - I can't keep defaulting to the notion that races/rides such as these "will always be there"... because (thinking of the defunct Tinbutt race in Oklahoma) sometimes even the best events evaporate after time.  I have faith that the successful and highly-active Lone Star Randonneurs group will still be holding the Tejas ultra-events for years to come, but skipping it again is a risk.  Like a lot of things in life, waiting for everything to "line up" is a foolish game... there's always going to be an excuse.  At some point I'm either going to just DO it, or content myself with letting it go.  While part of me still wants that big finishers trophy for the mantle and to say without hesitation that "yes, I'm RAAM-qualified", this year I know I need to be close to home to ensure my kids first few weeks of their first year in middle school come with complete parental support.  Quickly as I say that, my wife will remind me that it's not unreasonable to have aspirations for myself while still being a good Dad... so, we'll see what happens.

 

So, while there may not be a trophy or t-shirt involved, I still have plans and goals for 2012.  Lest I forget, if January 14th goes well, I'll be sitting on five-to-go towards R-12... so it isn't as if nothing is going on.  After a recent revisit to knee issues after discovering my saddle height had dropped a little.... but the seatpost DIDN'T (saddle drooping?)... my biggest challenge of 2012 may simply be finding a new saddle and breaking it in.  Ugh. 

 

The prospect of a whole new year to go after ANY of these things is exciting, no matter what happens!  

Heck, I'm riding a bike... how bad can things be?

 

2011 proved to be a great year.  Better than 2010.  So the only thing I'm really shooting for is "better than 2011".  I got in a great ride with some good folks on the last day of the year to the Cidermill and back - and while I had to get hurried in the end, it was still a great day out.  I took the camera, reminded myself to look at something other than that patch of road 10 feet in front of me - so even at-speed I took in some great scenery, old bridges, and after a couple teases finally got a decent dog-chase on Renner Road.  That's a good start... 

 

I haven't organized a Saturday AM ride in a while, haven't attended a weekend group ride in a while (aside from yesterday), haven't put together a DSR in a while, haven't attended a multi-day tour in a while... there's lots to do... trying to pick ONE thing, right now... nah.  I don't need any resolutions - because I'm having a pretty good time already, feeling good... just keep it going, and the rest will come.  That'll do for now.  

  

In any case, Happy New Year! 

 

 

Identity and reason

After viewing a great many videos and reading texts on cycling long distances, whether it be RAAM or P-B-P, cyclists taking part were asked at some point "why they are doing this".  A great many took pause while trying to come up with an answer.  Many were unable to.  Sometimes we need someone else to tell us.  I, myself, am not sure I could come up with anything at quick notice.  I'm not sure any of us NEED to - but the truth lies somewhere in the notion that long distance cyclists are either riding away from, or towards, something.  Whether any of us figure out what that "something" is in our lifetimes isn't necessarily as important as continuing the search - and remembering to keep it fun.  

 

Fun is important.  A great many friends over the years have taught me how to look more closely, carefully, when I'd lost my way.  I have learned to laugh in the face of interminable distances.  I have found the simple joy in a hot cup of coffee.  I have learned that there is "tired", and there is "600k tired".  I have shook hands with new friends at the end of seemingly endless torture, and have smiled despite pain, sores, aches, fatigue -- fatigue so deep you find yourself giggling one second, and then for no reason, crying.  I haven't always seen the roadside daisies while on my search, the cool old bridge or building or bird - but I have learned to look, even to stop.  I have learned that what lies at the end of this long string of roads is not as important as what I learn on the way, what I see, what I smile about, what I share with others while they make their search.  While there are receipts and stamps and route cards, it's not about the clock or the miles or the course record.  It's also not about beating the other guy... yet, if you've ridden with me, you know that for some reason I still like a good rabbit.  Sometimes you need the comfort of the group... sometimes you need the silence of solitude between groups.  It's deeper than all that, though.  

 

I have watched in amazement the exploits of those making it back to Paris before some riders even reach Brest.  I remember hearing of riders making the end of the MS-150 before the lunch stop even opened - and remember letting personal comparison dictate my level of enjoyment.  I have read amazing tales of near-death experiences turned completely around into stories of triumph over odds, and have thought less of myself for giving in to pain too easily.  I'm sure there is happiness there in those tales of remarkable sporting ability, but more often than not I find myself questioning whether or not they're having a good time - watching hurried control mayhem, yelling, people shoving food into their faces, clothing refreshed, creams and lotions applied -- and watching them be shoved back into motion, off the bike for only minutes.  I seldom see a smile.  I have seen the strongest riders stop, dozens of hours in the lead, alone - just stopping, quitting, because there is no competition.  For them, the competition is the "why"... and when that "why" is removed, they no longer know why they are there.  One could call "cop-out" on me, or similar... but, I HAVE to be able to smile... I know that about myself.  Things really do become harder when I'm not having fun.  Everyone measures "fun" in their own way, all have their own facial cues, quirks... but, watching those videos, looking at their eyes... I'm not sure I can see it.

Others have their bodies give out before they find what they seek... and it make my heart heavy to see a strong athlete reduced to tears because their will is still so strong, yet the physical pain is too great.  I have seen others slip into fatigue, and the clock is unkind.  Hours from the next control with only minutes to get there - for some reason, there is still a smile.  Perhaps it hides something, but it is - from my perspective - genuine.  They have, on paper, lost... but, they don't crawl into the van.  They refuse the SAG.  Without any reason greater than "it's a nice day, and it'd be a shame to waste it," they continue pedaling towards Paris.  There will be no prize, there may not even be a single soul applauding them home... but they continue.  If the search consumes you, then whatever you find at the end could be bittersweet, hollow, anti-climactic, or worse... unsatisfying... but for these, I don't think such a fate awaits them at their own "finish".  There is no final stamp, no appearance in the finishers list, no fanfare... but they have still, for themselves, finished.  It's the character of these brave, heroic riders that I aspire to most of all.

 

After much personal toil, internal arguments, personal monologues - I am finally okay if I never have my name associated with any such amazing feat.  It's not as simple as saying I've somehow suddenly FOUND something and that I no longer need to search... I know that what I'm searching for still doesn't have a name, or association, or direct example "just like so-and-so did"... I don't need to beat that record, best that time, ride a few meters farther than Tom, Dick, or Harry.  I just need to relax, and enjoy the search itself.  If I happen to beat "70-hours", or shave off a few minutes from "last months ride", then great... but confusing those goals with THE goal can sap out the fun.  I still have drive.. drive that keeps me from seconds at the dinner table, drive that keeps me working out these days, drive that helps me squeeze out a little more speed - just to ensure that I'm giving anything I attempt my level-best... but, without keeping in touch with who I am, without having a good time at it ... what's any of it worth, really?  Medals will be stored away, stories written... but at the end, will I be happy with ME?  

  

Amazing things can still happen when you aren't trying so hard.  That's not the same as giving up.  I'm not giving up on anything.  No sir.  I take my cycling seriously... but this is a reminder to not take it TOO seriously.  I find myself teetering on that edge this time of year, when getting up the motivation to ride is harder than it is in August for example.  I pick my dates, send my emails, but then make the mistake of looking at ridiculously long-term weather forecasts.  They aren't reliable, my logos knows this - yet, I still am compelled to look, and wonder.  What if its cold?  What if it rains?  What if it isn't PERFECT???  I start to talk myself out of rides, weeks before they arrive.  Ultimately, I can't control the weather.  I can't let the weather control me, or my thoughts or mood, in the days leading up to the next ride.  Who am I to second-guess nature's will, or the Creator's for that matter?  What if I don't even realize that I NEED a ride in poor weather?  Maybe it's the BEST thing for me?  Let go... relax...  keep it fun!  After all, the worst weather can make for the best story.

 

The night before the December 200k, as I checked the alarm clock for the last time, clicked off the bed table lamp, and pulled the covers up to my chin, I asked the wife, "why am I doing this?"  I knew that cold temps awaited, I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I wasn't sure I was ready for personal discovery.  Doubt... anxiety... 

 

"You're doing this because you love it, remember?"

 

She's always right, you know.  I slept pretty good after that.

 

Sure enough a few hours later on a dark, cold road - I managed a smile, through the iced-over beard and all. 

Yep... after all these years, all these miles, I'm still having fun.

 

The more I remain in touch with that, the farther I can go.

  

Episode VI: Return of the Ice-Face

The normally never-considered vents on the tops of my shoes fill with freezing cold air as I rush down the first hill towards the river.

"Holy.... forget this...."

I check my six, touch the brakes, and turn the bike around.  This is ridiculous.

Not quitting... just, for the first time ever, turning around for the van and the duffel-bag-of-plenty inside.

My first rule on preparing for long rides in the cold when you have to drive to the start location: pack EVERYTHING.
   

This morning, I'm not even sure it was twenty degrees.  Add in the manufactured wind-chill created by cycling through the pre-dawn air and there was no WAY I was going to wait for the usual mile-three warm-up.  I wanted to be warm, but NOW.

Checked-in already at the QuikTrip up the hill, I didn't much care that I was burning a little clock.  Even the van looked surprised to see me back so quick.  (yeah.)  I fished out the keys from the seat bag and went diving for the few remaining layers that I didn't already have on my body.  Mittens, check... Shoe covers, check... lock, slam, keys stowed, zip, zip, zip, gloves on, ROLL!  ...MUCH better...  now, to get this 200k started already!!!

This time out, it's the "All's Wellsville" route, starting in Kansas City, KS., passing through Edwardsville, Bonner Springs, near DeSoto, Linwood, Eudora, near Hesper, Clearfield, Le Loup, passing near Peoria, and finally the turn-around in Ottawa, KS.  It's an interesting route ... flat in most places, which - honestly - bores me to tears.  It's good training, however: training for the mind.  Flat roads for me provide that anxious feeling like "you'll never get there" ...a feeling I need to learn to block out if I'm to pursue longer distances in a few short months.  It's a great route, honestly, as are all of the KCUC offerings.  I just have my favorites, that's for sure - but, I'm making a concerted effort to add variety to my R-12 run this time out as well as try routes that I wouldn't normally pick.  It helps me hone my control routine in a variety of settings, prepares me for varied terrain, and keeps the scenery fresh.

For the moment, scenery isn't really a concern.  It's dark.  It's flargin' freeeezing.  Without the normal bank thermometer signboard near the start location I don't have a way to confirm it for sure, but this may well be my coldest 200k start - at least in recent memory:  the Knob Noster 200k comes to mind.  The forecast changed hourly the day before, finally showing the mercury bottoming at around 20ºF.  That was at the start location, however:  farther along the route down in the Kansas River valley the temperature was set in the mid-teens.  It surely felt like it - and, it was very humid.  Frost everywhere, reflecting my lone headlight beam back in mystical shimmering sparkles as I rolled along K-32.  Strange images, though... frosty dead possum.... frosty dead rabbit... frosty discarded McDonald's bag... and myriad other unidentifiable bits of roadside trash all rendered sparkly and magical by the fairy ice queen.  Weird.

I grin at myself, and my facial hair resists... confirming that the ice beard has begun.  Yikes... so far this year, I haven't even had that happen on a commute - so it's remarkably cold and wet up here by the river, my breath condensing instantly, flying back onto my face and freezing in place.

"Just take it easy"...

I'm not in a hurry to the first control - just making circles.  I'm approaching the third month of "the new shoes", and lately I've been feeling the indications of possible over-training in my joints.  This happened with the last shoes, and the ones before that.  Time.  Patience.  Yet - in typical dude fashion, it'd be on my mind practically all day, just as it was in the 72-hours leading up to the start.  The weight of willpower not to change something for the sake of "solving" a problem is a weight I don't wish on anyone.  I exchange the hassle of temporary discomfort with the self-imposed burden of trying to find a solution for it - wherein I create more issues.  Rinse, Repeat.  Lock away your tools, dude.  Ride it out.  It's not pain... it's "change".

An early morning freight train passes me, blows its horn.  This route is another rail-fan opportunity for me - nothing quite like combining two of my passions into one activity!  I leave the lights of Bonner Springs behind and drop onto Loring Road, and though it's not technically "the old highway" it has that feel of ancient concrete as it parallels the Union Pacific railroad tracks, finally dead-ending right after I turn west on Loring Road's extension.

Despite the cold, I find myself dressed perfectly after adding the layers at the van.  Summer cycling gear you almost can't get wrong, but COLD weather cycling gear can be a tricky thing.  I've touched on this in other posts - true cold-use items, compared to chilly-use items that are marketed as cold weather cycling gear.  While I like to keep things generic in these pages and not call out one brand or another, I feel compelled to here because of the experience I've had with their products over the past four years.  That brand is Craft.  All of the information you'd ever want is on their site, so I won't repeat it here - but, simply, when it comes to winter cycling I don't look to anyone else.  Comfort like this comes at a premium price, and truth be told it's taken me years to individually amass the base layers, the jersey, the warmers, the head covers, the shoe covers ... but, each step has brought me closer to a perfect winter kit for long distances.  Again, as I've stated many times, these particular posts are based around long-distance fitness cycling.  For commutes, man, I've seen and used it all - and you can stay warm in hundreds of ways with little to no additional expense above what you'd normally spend to stay warm OFF of a bicycle.  For long-distance, cumulative, fitness-oriented efforts where technical clothing becomes more important, however, there is simply no substitute for the good stuff when it comes to cold weather.  Even if you can only swing one of their long-sleeve base layers, it will change your entire outlook on winter riding.  Like me, you will find it remarkable how FEW layers you end up wearing on a really cold ride.  The warmth and moisture transfer factors are staggering.  Okay, that's my product plug for the day.  Craft.  Insist on it.

For long-time readers - yes, I still LOVE wool stuff.  For rainy rides down to freezing, there's no substitute -- but when it's really cold I've found myself more comfortable if I stay drier.  Wool insulates terrifically when it's wet - so if you KNOW you're going to be wet, it's perfect... like in the rain.  When it gets very cold out, however, wool can hold onto sweat too long in my experience - and when cooling down at a control, I find myself eventually shivering as a result.  The Craft stuff seems to pull moisture away from skin faster than anything I've ever used - it dries faster on the clothes line than anything else I own.  The fabric, the weave - there's something to it, definitely.  I would have thought evaporative cooling would create the opposite effect, but the Craft stuff is very warm as a result.  Problem is - it has to STAY cold for the Craft stuff to be "perfect".  If it gets warm, you'll get too hot.  Wool still rules in the arena of temperature range - proven LAST month when on the Super Big Gulp route: a ride that started in the upper 20's, and ended up in the mid 60's... but I barely had to shed any layers, being comfortable in my wool togs all day.  If you could only spend the money on ONE kit to rando in... because of that flexibility... it'd still probably have to be wool.

Meanwhile, on Loring Road, in a vacuum at sea-level, when vehicle A is travelling eastbound at 55 MPH, and vehicle B is travelling westbound at 55 MPH, bicycle Z will intersect with both vehicle A and B at exactly point X, where the width of the shoulder-less road shall be the width of (A+B+Z)-3 ft., causing vehicle B to slow to bicycle Z's speed, while the combined effect of reflective gear and shadows will cause approaching vehicle A to needlessly slow to vehicle B's speed at location X, which equals "horn".  Crap.  Of all the variables in all the world... at O'dark-thirty on some random road, how come the lone cyclist is always, eventually, found by two random cars travelling in opposite directions at the same time???  Finding the Higgs Bozeon (Boson?) can't be as important as figuring out this chaotic pattern [I find the former spelling more "scientific", as it doesn't conjure images of the key to universal mechanics being strapped to the back of a giant mid-western grazing quadriped, the mighty and elusive Higgs Bison].

  

Finally, some hills!  Staying ever wary of my intention to take it easy for joint's sake, and to take it easy to avoid overheating, the hills are still welcome.  I arrive at the end of this lovely road and pause for a nature break... marveling at the cascade of steam passing through my headlight beam.  Cold out here.  Stars are gorgeous... dogs barking in the distance... a train horn...  gotta keep moving!  It crosses my mind that if I simply turned back from here, I'd still have a nice 30 mile ride in the bag.  Pah... sure, this isn't easy, but easy is boring.  Besides...the first control has coffee.  

Mmmm, coffee....

At this point, even my insulated water bottles are resisting the day.  I manage to extract a few more drinks - far less than I'm probably requiring, but it'll have to do.  They're almost frozen solid.  

I give the girl working the c-store a bit of an interesting scene.  She pauses briefly from her store-opening register routine to consider me, my clothing, my iced-over face, my numb-tongued requests for time and initials in the appropriate brevet-card box.  Surely a sight... deep in the haze of teenage I'm-too-cool-for-anything-to-shock-me, I still manage to get a glimmer of confusion to show up behind her eyes while I fumble through my back pockets, punch data into my phone, extract calories from various baggies and plastic tubes, fill bottles with hot water, only to then disappear back into the cold darkness outside the frosted-over front door.  Too interested to completely ignore me, but not interested enough to ask - the fate of most non-randonneurs peering into a world that they'll likely never understand; made worse by participants like myself that find it difficult to come up with a quick explanation that doesn't immediately raise more questions.  

The next few dozen miles fade and blur into a mural of a frosty, brilliant sunrise over brown fields and images of a lone cyclist - the only spot in the scene nearly as-bright as the rising sun - making his way across the valley crossing the Kansas River, while birds of prey begin the morning hunt overhead.  Countless pedal revolutions, sips of water, insertion of calories, songs, movie quotes, interesting barns and buildings, trees and cemeteries.  Euroda, Clearfield, Wellsville.... a few stops here and there to rest the legs, take in the views.  These long, cold, solo rides don't do much for drama or storytelling -- marked only by mile-posts, bottles emptied and filled, and the subtle twitch you can feel when the temperature finally peeks above freezing.  The sky is a brilliant blue, the sun is there... but its warmth is fleeting.  I roll along in a dream state - sounds muffled by covered ears.  Mere glances to the horizon feel like minutes - images captured on the landscape of my mind, held there, considered for miles while I carve a tiny envelope  through the icy air.  Everything is happening slowly, and I'm on autopilot.

Weird... a frosted-over dead coyote... that's a first.... I did SEE that, didn't I??

I didn't check my average at the first control, but - interestingly - each subsequent stop since shows a small tick upward in overall speed.  It's difficult enough riding in the off-season.  There are no thoughts towards personal-bests, only survival of the conditions.  I have no expectations this day - just to finish.  However, I'm pleasing myself with the continued upward trend displayed on my cyclometer.  It's a good indication that the work I've done since July is paying off: the weights, the LT sessions, cross-training, diet -- all culminating in a decent performance even without conscious effort towards a number or goal.  My overall goal this fall was to increase my cruising speed - to get back to the point that even when I'm dog-tired I'm still riding consistently without having to think about pushing.  In 2003, that speed was in the 18's.  In 2008, that speed had dropped into the 14's.  Now... we're back in the 16's...  Getting there... slowly.  This is good for the to-be-chosen "big goal" for 2012.  I'm also reaching a point where mentally I can unplug a bit - instead of lamenting about the length of a road or how-long to the next whatever, I find myself just "showing up" at turns - all while still being able to enjoy the passing scenery.  Hard to describe - but I'm liking where I am at the moment, and where I'm headed.

Pizza, cheesy potato bites, more Perpetuem Solids from Hammer Nutrition, water, water, water.... I ate like a pig at the halfway.  It's been stated by nearly every outdoor publication you can get your hands on:  winter sports burn more calories.  Here, here.  This is an area I normally fall short in - and it's especially prevalent in winter cycling where (in my case) most of my on-bike calories are stashed where they aren't easily reached - especially with clumsy gloves and mitts.  While I've played with the idea before in many different incarnations, I always - eventually - get rid of the handlebar bag.  One of these days I'll grow up a little...but, I think my opinions will change once I have an opportunity to set one up correctly, with a good front rack and decalleur - mounting it low, out of the way.  For now, I simply stop more often, unzip a few layers, and go fishing in my back pockets.  At the controls, it's food-game ON.

At Ottawa, The sun is out - it's bright... frost is melting off the roof of the Casey's in Ottawa and dripping down onto the sidewalk around me while I chow down, packing this and that onto the rear rack.  It's finally warm enough to shed some protection, and the much needed layers I grabbed at the last minute finally get retired.  It's certainly no tropical paradise, but it's above freezing - and that's PERFECT weather as far as I'm concerned.  Comfortably full, I finally declare the ride "halfway done" and point the bike east on K-68 for the return leg.

I mentally discard the highway section by playing "what the ____ is that noise??!" with my bike.

This actually continues all the way back to Wellsville, where-in I spend perhaps an hour not thinking about saddle comfort or my legs or knees or anything... because I'm trying to find that rattle.  This involves keeping one hand on the 'bars, while the other roams from cable to cable, fender, light, wire, brake lever, pump, rear rack, helmet strap, zipper pull, computer mount.... WHERE ARE YOU COMING FROM?!

rattle/rattle

It brings me to the subject of "sanity savers".  

What's that?  Some of you know... but for others:  those seemingly ridiculous rubber donuts that fit over your top-tube routed brake cable?  That cleverly placed bit of electrical tape that prevents two crossing shift cables from rubbing?  That re-purposed bit of taillight bracket shim that keeps a frame-pump quiet?  Wrapping everything in your seatbag in shop rags, to ensure NOTHING can rattle or shake?  There are roads out there that make these things necessary, even on a properly tire'd steel framed bicycle.  There are a few of those roads on this route.  It may not seem like a big deal - but when your brain runs out of things to focus on, deep into hour seven of your next ride, that tiny rattle that you can't find will drive you completely, Edgar Allen Poe, Chinese water torture, Dumb and Dumber road-trip, INSANE.

Cut to a picturesque scene of a country lane from the point of view of a local cow, and in the distance the silhouette of a cyclist dismounting his bicycle in a scream of fury and defeat, tossing it into the adjacent ditch and shouting "make it stop" at the heavens.  The cow looks on, confused, but continues chewing - raising his bovine eyebrow in curiosity.

Marveling at my ever-increasing (if you can count 0.1 MPH at each stop "marvel-worthy") average speed, I notice that the wind is beginning to shift - as forecast.  I'm truly blessed... this, for the 2nd month in a row, was another of the fabled and (now-not-so) ultra-rare double tailwind events.  Thank the maker... but, man, I am SO gonna pay for this next month.  My zippers are a little bit lower, my smile a little bit wider as I settle into a good rhythm heading northbound on Tennessee Road towards Le Loup, KS.  It's only five miles, but it always comes across as a bit of a death-slog.  This is where the "80-mile wall" starts to show up... but, today, it is a joy.  Crystalline skies, and approaching the T-intersection at the northern end I catch a container train heading NE, its brightly painted boxes contrasting nicely against the dead hillside behind them.  Wellsville is next... keep moving.

I tango a bit with I-35 and finally make the bricked streets of Wellsville and the welcome sight of another Casey's.  Today, while my rolling average is good, I'm still not passing up any opportunity to get off the bike and step inside for a few minutes - control or no control.  Apparently, Wellsville has a town ritual - and today, I'm standing right underneath it, at noon, when it happens.  Perched about halfway up the superstructure of the city water tower is a civil defense siren... and that water tower is directly behind the Casey's.  I'm literally 20 feet from the base of one of its legs.  It's SO loud, that it encompasses my senses fully - vibrating my entire body.  It's only a 2-second long burst, but it spins back down to idle passing through every conceivable frequency - from spine tickling to teeth chattering... it will find your head's resonant frequency and exploit it.  Apparently, they do this every day at high noon.  Some towns have nice church bells, or a clock tower.  Wellsville has a giant WWII-era air-raid siren.  Scared the living daylights out of me.  Right when quiet was restored, I swear I heard muffled, maniacal laughter coming from the operations center at city-hall... "we got another one!"

Sound the alarm... cyclist comin'....

Fast-forward 15 miles, and I'm back at Eudora... the QwikStop, and another personal stop.  Average speed ticked up another notch... more water refills.... only 30 miles to go!  I cross the Kansas River again, across railroad tracks and up the ridge ... finally some more climbing ... to K-32, and then back to Linwood, where I manage to catch the same girl working the counter as earlier that morning.  She's right at the end of her shift, but I still manage to get matching initials scribbled in the 1st and 2nd-to-last boxes on my route card.  Bonus!  My summertime mark of trying for under 10-hours total is slipping into impossibility, but I'm still pleased considering that was never even a thought for this ride.  I calorie-up a little for the last 20-mile or so shot ... which, I swear, always seems like WAY more than just 20 miles.  

I dance with a couple more trains along Golden Road north of DeSoto, KS., climb up the big hill on 158th street that takes me back to Loring Road for more interesting climbing and a nice, long descent back down to river-level.  More trains, and FINALLY... confirming that I'm not completely nuts, I see another cyclist!  We exchange waves across the lane as we pass each other head-on -- big thumbs-up to the guy in the red jacket, whoever you are.  There must be some cosmic significance to that part of Loring Road, because it's almost exactly where the pre-dawn chaos-theory experiment happened nearly 10-hours earlier.  Bonner Springs city limits come into view, and afternoon traffic.  It's not too terrible, but I manage to catch every red light through town.  Nothing like traffic-light intervals after 110 miles are in your legs!

I check off the landmarks... K-7, the nasty railroad crossing, the shoulder disappears, then reappears again, Sonic, gas station, I-435, Edwardsville...

Another random and poorly timed nature-break opportunity beckons... ugh!!  Pick you battles, dude... you're WELL hydrated today!  It's moments like these where I'd much prefer a little solitude and some shrubs... but, alas, gas-station loo it is.  I like a certain kind of misery -- but sitting on a full bladder while tackling the hills that await on 78th street isn't my kinda treat.

Climbing away from the Kaw cut towards I-70 to the finish is a mean way to end 127 miles of riding.  I feel fresh, spirited - despite a few troublesome cramps and yanks in the calf area of each leg... more growing pains from the new shoes, no doubt... no panicking allowed.  Climb!  Don't think about the pedal stroke... just let it happen!  More traffic awaits near the motel finish - and I have to ride past the van again to get the last box checked at the QuikTrip.  I catch each red light near the highway, again... ugh.... tick-tock:  but it's only time.  This one's done, effectively... I can sit at these lights for hours and still finish.... and it seems like it takes that long!!!  GREEN!  GO!!!

Perhaps a more desolate route for January?  Second month in a row I've ended a 200k in the throes of afternoon traffic.  Ugh.

Said with a grain of salt, of course ... the GOOD thing about such routes in winter, if you need shelter and services, they're there.  

Maybe I can gut out the traffic... maybe.

QuikTrip, a bottle of chocolate milk for the road, a final receipt, a final signature... and one final encounter:

"you ridin' across the country or somethin?"  from a local gent, also checking out.

"mmm, no - but, this is like a training ride for stuff like that, I suppose.  Someday, someday..."

"well, I was behind ya in traffic back there trying to figure out what "randonneurs" meant..."  (thanks, French people)

It was a neat encounter with an unlikely party - which is one of the things that makes these rides so interesting.  The people you sometimes meet, never who you'd expect to talk to about it with you, and they are always genuinely interested, fascinated... and sometimes as confused about our motivations as WE are when it comes to explaining that one, lingering question of "WHY?"

...heck, if I knew WHY, I don't think I'd be out here looking for it...

That about sums it up.

Schtuff in my head:

"The Bambi Lazer Collection", with every burp

"The Proctor" scene from the movie "Who's The Man?"

Hell Yes - Beck

Satellites - Doves

Under Cover of Darkness - The Strokes

Harmonicas are Shite - Fila Brazillia

You're So Vain - Carly Simon

Spirits in the Material World - The Police

Thanks for reading!!!