Where have all the cowboys gone?

Even the wife - who could really care less about professional sports in general (much less professional cycling) - texted me this morning as the news crackled across her morning drive-time talk radio.  She knew I'd be interested, and she was right.  

For over a decade, I have been a conversation magnet for cycling... maybe not so-much in recent years; to a fine point, not since Armstrong retired.  This time around, people were not flocking to my cube to talk about the breaking news.  What has changed?  

It remains safe to say Armstrong had done more for cycling in the United States than anyone before him, perhaps even Greg LeMond.  Without going too far down the pathways of my personal experience and history, I was still too busy being apathetic and out of shape when LeMond was winning his Tours de France, and while the United States was enjoying it's "golden era" of bicycling in the 70's and 80's, I was merely taking for granted the pristine Schwinn Varsity Jr., American-Made, which I spent many hours cruising the neighborhood and bike trail upon.  The time I speak of, for me, happened later; after the Chicago Schwinn plant closed and after cycling took a dip as a mainstay in American culture.  Fast forward couple years after I started riding again as an adult, after the weight came off and after the news broke in 1999 about a new winner, an American.  In the years that followed, the bicycling industry spun-up into a technological frenzy - an arms race of sorts - which witnessed a spike in recreational cycling in the U.S. from 2000 to 2005, to one point where a large publication called cycling "the new golf."  Hearing that the man who - in my eyes - had been responsible for such a spike in American cycling (at least racing) culture had thrown in the towel with regards to USADA accusations of doping left me confused, annoyed, and - yeah - sad.

Maybe I shouldn't care so much - but I do.  I still want the dream to be real... if it indeed was a dream.

Upon reaching the office, I was greeted with an instant message from a co-worker asking for my thoughts on the matter - and, I found myself more prepared to answer than I'd realized.  I'm not convinced as quickly as many.  There are two sides to this coin:  either he has admitted to this alleged activity, or he has stepped down from the fight with dignity.  Only the individual can decide - until the USADA comes up with their evidence and pursues the stripping of his seven Tour titles with the UCI - which must agree with the decision.  It will take time for me to understand why, on reputation and record, anyone would back down from this fight - no matter how baseless.  I think the most frustrating leftover, far more than possibly having to try and remember who really won in Paris from 1999-2005, remains the fact Armstrong gave up.  No matter the odds, it is sewn into the fabric of modern civilization for a person to fight for their good name, if questioned or dishonored.  Baseless accusations or not, the effort should still be worthy -- and, knowing this, I know there can likely be only one reason for his capitulation.  Only Lance knows for sure.  Honor and dignity, however, are as much about realizing when to bow out gracefully as they are about triumph and persistence.

I do not want to, however, go on-record and hold Armstrong up as honorable for his decision - but, I still struggle with trashing him completely.  The tide has ebbed and flowed - it was cool to follow Lance, then it was cool to hate him.  People bought US Postal jerseys faster than they could be manufactured, and again with Discovery Channel, and - every July - non-cyclists at work constantly asked me "how'd Lance do today?"  I loved cheering for him, too - but, as is the case for many of us - it became harder to cheer after his retirement.  The media almost scolded us for doing so.  Multiple marital issues, a questionable foundation, an abrasive personality and attitude both on and off the bike; all the negative news came to the forefront.  And now, this.

I never considered myself an Armstrong fan as much as a cycling fan.  I've - ironically - always liked George Hincapie better, maybe Laurent Jalabert.  But, in my world, where I never knew how to throw a football, shoot a basket, hit a home run, or jump a hurdle -- I knew how to ride a bike, and in a time when I couldn't cheer for myself, I had an American winning the Tour to cheer for.  Armstrong filled that need, and for that, I am grateful.  Nothing will change the elation, the screaming in joy at the television as he'd cross the line after another time-trial victory.  The battles between Ullrich and Armstrong play out in my head as some of the finest moments in sport.  That was real.  I'm thankful that his impetus helped elevate cycling coverage in the States from sketchy internet radio and text updates to the live HD television coverage we enjoy today.  I don't want to be a blind supporter, or a hopeless fan-boy - but I don't want to discount Armstrong's accomplishments, either.  Let's assume for a second that EVERYONE was doping (and, yeah - most will say they all were), and it really was a level playing field during the Tours he'd won.  He still had to pedal.  He still had to use his brain, and team strategy, to win.  And win he did.  Over and over.  It was never a game of milliseconds, either.  If you think it's just "riding a bike", and doping somehow renders ANYone super-human and able to win a three-week bike race, fine:  try it.  The foundation MUST be there - and while this ordeal has already left a dark asterisk next to seven Tours' history - I don't really care if he doped or not.  It is not the drugs that won the race.  I still, no matter how uncool it may be, want to believe a few simple facts on the matter:  he was an athletic anomaly in his teens when he was winning triathlons.  He developed into a terrific cyclist - enough to win the World Championships, the youngest professional to do so at the time.  He was strong enough to beat his particular brand of cancer - and his specific medical case would have outright finished nearly anyone else with the same diagnosis.  He fought back, experienced a new level of suffering through chemo and radiation and surgery, and took that experience into his post-cancer cycling career, where he began to best his rivals on the premise of hard work and knowing how to suffer more than the next guy.  Is it really so unimaginable he'd have been able to win so handily?

I think, in a way, that's Armstrong's point: whether there is an admission waiting, or evidence that will eventually either exonerate him of, or confirm, the accusations - he still had to pedal, as everyone around him did.  IF they were all doping, heck, even if only the top 5% of the GC contenders were, then he still won against them.  Take all the performance-enhancing drugs AWAY, then, you would have the same result.  Cycling - clean OR dirty - still has an eventual winner.  The USADA can fight their fights, and I appreciate the premise of what they are attempting for the sport -- but, with the logic above (albeit, admittedly, blotchy on my part) in place, what's the point?  What's their motivation?

Still, I struggle - I want to stand up and cheer at the genuinely remarkable stories of athletic performance, and aspire to make myself a better person.  But there's always a sense of pause, especially with cycling, and especially now.  It's in the back of my head, every time I watch someone win.  I'm waiting for the same allegations to surface about Bradley Wiggins, this year's winner.  It's inevitable.  Somewhere in Italy, I'll bet they're writing the case, right now.  It sucks - but it's how this particular machine works.  It's just unfortunate that --- keeping in mind in either Wiggins case, or in Armstrong's -- neither athlete has ever failed a drug test.  The same can be said for Marco Pantani -- perhaps the most tragic example of the damage these anti-doping witch hunts can leave in their wake.  The "machine" has created this automatic reaction to outstanding feats of physical prowess.... instant doubt.  I, for one, am tired of it all.  OF COURSE I'd prefer a completely clean sporting culture - I even sorta get why someone would stoop to PEDs in the first place at the professional level, despite my disagreement with their use - and that's NOT a condonement.  As my old bumper sticker says:  Dopers Suck.  But, no sport is immune, from auto-racing to college wrestling. 

Drugs or not - people love and hate a winner.  This is the age we've created, however it leaves us in history's eyes:  we judge the military, our religious and political leaders, our friends, and our athletic heroes.  We judge their every move, demand to know their every motivation, and demand to expose every flaw - lest we observers be so perfect.  And we will ultimately pay for this.  I see this cynicism in myself, and I see it in my children - and I am ashamed.  I'm mad at myself that I held someone up on a pedestal, but I'm madder at the ones that forced me to question why I was cheering in the first place.  I - we all - need to cheer, to hold fast to our convictions and passions - on the hope that our kids might see us NOT giving up on someone who has come under pressure and doubt.  Instead of sheepishly tearing posters of "fallen heroes" down from the garage wall, I'd rather explain why I still have them up there, should anyone care to ask.  I would like to think that no amount of temporary fame or fortune would be worth the risk - that competition, personal sacrifice, and sport itself, are enough.  It's not that I need a hero so much as I need to believe in genuine, unquestioned human triumph over odds - and I need a world where that's okay to stand behind, without having to explain it.  Passionate idealism... that's me.  

So, why AREN'T people coming into my cube to ask about Lance this time around?  What changed?  It's hard to tell -- perhaps they have already made up their own minds.  Perhaps the media has decided for them.  And, honestly, perhaps none of this --- to me, or my family --- really changes anything, or matters at all.  The sun will still rise tomorrow.  I will still ride my bike.  I still think we need heroes - and if yesterday's are dethroned, I look with hope at the ones that might rise to replace them.  (Are you listening, Tejay van Garderen?)  I hope that those who do wrong are punished.  I hope that those who actually - all this time - have done right, survive - and that their stories would be told, to clear their good name. 

Meanwhile - since 2005, since my own adult maturation has lent me to holding my own head up for the things I have accomplished, I still like watching the Tour.  I still love bikes, talking shop, and getting excited in July.  But, in much the same way I abandoned big arena shows in lieu of seeing live music in small clubs, I tailor my search for heroism in smaller circles.  I cheer for the guys out at Longview Lake that continue to reach for the new high average speed.  I cheer for Mark Cavendish.  I cheer for Tinker Juarez, and Ned Overend, and Steve Tilford.  I cheer for Cameron Chambers.  I cheer for Kenneth Walker.  I cheer for the wife of a great friend, whom is taking on cycling with such fervor she may overtake us all.  I cheer for that kid in the Specialized commercial - because that ad represents EXACTLY where my passion starts... and I see my son in that ad.  I still remember and cheer for George Brett, Frank White and Dan Quisenberry, et al.... because you can't front on the '85 Royals, ever.  I hold up Lon Haldeman and John Marino.  I hold up my Dad.  I hold up Oscar Pistorius.  I hold up my randoneuring friends.  I hold up those that adopt and foster children.  I hold up those that work with children with special-needs.  I hold up my friends and my family.

Heroes don't have to be complicated, and neither does explaining them.  But, it's still - definitely - okay to have them.  It's still okay to believe in the dream.  Despite this situation's impact and weight, it won't kill professional cycling.  It won't kill the passion for sport... I can only hope it teaches a broader lesson, and cements behavior which dictates that - when given the choice - our future heroes would choose defeat and honor, rather than desiring to win at any cost and someday apologizing.  Only in this way, can this talk of doping and anti-doping become a thing of the past. 

Until then - let's keep doing what we do.

Thanks for reading.

Dark Side Ride coming ... that's no moon... it's a BLUE moon!

Borrowed from the pages of Noah over at KC Bike Commuting, check it out.... because, it's ON:

Although "Blue Moon" has several definitions, the one that seems most popular is the coming of a second full moon within the same calendar month. Since we had a full moon on August 2nd, we're going to get in by the skin of our teeth on August 31st. The last time we had this kind of Blue Moon was in December of 2009.
With that, we're celebrating with yet another edition of the Dark Side Ride.

Where: Meet at the Wendy's parking lot just north of K-10 and Woodland Rd in Lenexa.
When: Friday, August 31, 2012. We roll out at 9:00 PM sharp. Be there early enough to roll at 9.
Route: It'll be a surprise! Expect 20-30 miles.
A few things to note:

1. Usually, our DSR includes a stop by a convenience store for the emptying of bladders as well as the purchasing and consumption of beverages and snacks. I have a feeling this route will not include such accommodations.
2. We ask everyone to use helmets, reflective/hi-vis gear and to bring along lighting that's good for up to 3.5 hours of darkness.
3. I have a feeling that Blue Moon might be available after the ride. It would only be appropriate.

I reiterate the need to make sure you carry enough water/food to last the duration of the ride's distance, as Noah has on bullet 1, above.

This is a new, fresh route - surprise!  

Very much hope to see you there!

No Reservations - the August 200k

At long last, I have broken tradition.  

After months of repeats on the "same ole routes" (for me), I hooked onto Glen R.'s idea of heading north, towards Nebraska on I-29 and trying out the "Kickapoo Two" route - so named for its crossing of the Kickapoo (Kikaapoa) Indian Reservation.  The Kansas Kickapoo people maintain their own traditions, history, culture, and language, all set within a small reservation which covers a five-by-six mile area approximately five miles west of Horton, Kansas (1), and this terrific route heads straight across its middle.  Originally laid down as a route by Spencer K., this gem of a ride covers 130 miles of beautiful and open Northeast Kansas starting near St. Joseph, MO., at Elwood, KS., and heading west to connect Wathena, Troy, Bendena, Denton, Everest, Horton, and Wetmore, KS. along the way, via a terrific, and eerily quiet, network of state highways.  The only "noisy" section sits in the first ten miles of the route, as riders trace US-36 from Troy to Wathena - but, compared to traffic on the routes I've been frequenting lately, it really can't be called "busy".  It has me considering, seriously, if I'll be frequenting my old haunts quite as often in the future.

I like it out here in the country, and in contrast to what's sadly repeating in southern Johnson County, up here in Doniphan, Brown and Nemaha counties you can still see a large chunk of the last 100-years' history scattered around the roadsides.  Old barns, abandoned homesteads, and legacy farmland still being worked.  The only thing missing, perhaps, are the criss-crossing of rail-lines.  Once the only thing connecting these towns, lines such as the long-gone Chicago, Kansas & Nebraska, and the St. Joseph & Denver railroad are only shadowy echoes on Google Maps satellite-view - the scars of 120 years of railroad right-of-way maintenance are hard to hide from space, even if the rails have been missing since the early 1980's.  Union Pacific acquired dozens of these smaller lines, and when the bottom fell out in the late 1970's many were simply abandoned and ultimately had their rails pulled up.  This leaves hundreds of miles of potential rail-trail hiding back in the trees between these towns - something which would spark new development, bed-n-breakfasts, businesses, and tourism.  At the same time, I -- and I think the residents -- like the quiet and peace of an area of the state that seems to move at a slower pace.  It's hard to tell on conjecture whether they'd welcome the change, but, it saddens me sometimes rolling through town after town - once proud & bustling with prosperity - now boarded up, run-down, and forgotten...slowly being reclaimed by the Kansas dust.  We passed two old Standard Oil filling stations, just standing, rusting on the roadside - the logos looking as if they were 1960's vintage.  Perhaps it is progress, and perhaps I'm oversimplifying - perhaps I'd flip the coin and then curse having to traverse a busier town on my piddly bike rides... but, perhaps there can be balance, too.  It's neat to see these reminders of a bygone era -- but, still, one must wonder "what if."  Union Pacific does continue to maintain at least one rail corridor through the area, however, and it was nice to hear the horns of a very long train headed north towards Hiawatha through Everest, KS., shortly before we'd arrived at the crossing along Kansas Highway 20.  The railroad, where it crosses, seems to boost the towns - or sustain them longer - because Everest looked larger, more active than its surrounding neighbors: it is those other towns which the Federal Highway *and* the railroad have bypassed, which look the saddest.

The only issue with with starting a ride a fair distance from home is the drive time required to get there.  While I didn't rise remarkably early, I still had to leave the house by 4:15AM at the latest to make a 6:00AM start up north.  It crossed my mind that it might be more adventurous of me to have tried to ride the bike to the start - but then I thought myself nuts and went to bed instead.  Upon arriving at the start after a star-lit drive, I was greeted by Dave and Glen, lit-up and ready to roll.  Shortly afterwards, Karen W. arrived; she, it turns out, HAD ridden to the ride the night before...from Olathe, where I also live.  Okay...perhaps it IS possible, but dang!  With the trip home, she'd be looking at a near-500km weekend, however, she is training for a 1200km ride so it's all part of her plan.

Slowly, more cycling headlights appeared over the crest of the west-bound Pony Express bridge leading into Kansas, signalling the arrival of the remaining riders, and we grouped up at the gas station for paperwork.  Spencer, Billy, Terry, Dave, Glen, Karen, and me.... not a bad turnout at all for a permanent ride!  The first section of the journey takes old US-36 highway before heading west on back-roads to Wathena.  Along the way, we enjoyed 2 or 3 miles of small gravel, then popped out onto the main alignment of US-36 for the jaunt over to Troy.  

At this point, I should mention the weather.  Definitely NOT typical August weather for the area, temperatures under a clear sky in the wake of a cold front dropped readings into the mid-50's for Olathe - which was unseasonal enough - but near the river at the start line, they sat 10 degrees lower still.  Along the jaunt to Troy, Spencer's bike computer (w/ thermo readout) finally bottomed out at 42ºF.  After a couple months of daily excursions into the triple digits, this was downright frigid by contrast, and cycling gear normally unseen for a few more months came out of hiding.  I sported the (IMHO) right fabric for the job - the new KC Randonneur's short-sleeved wool jersey, DeFeet wool arm warmers, some thin polypro liner gloves under my normal half-finger cycling gloves, DeFeet's knee warmers, Swiftwick wool socks, a thin Craft beanie topped by a thin cycling cap, and a RUSA (made by L2S of France) reflective wind vest.  The combination was aces - trumping my usual track record of being horribly overdressed and sweaty for the first colder ride of the year.  My only pause came with the wool jersey itself, as temperatures had been expected to rise to at least 80F later in the afternoon -- but, even that was offset by the chance of a thunderstorm, putting wool back in the 'essential' column.  Time would tell - I just hadn't wanted to get too warm.

It was a treat to see such a dramatically different part of Kansas from that which I've grown accustomed.  The giant microwave towers and impossibly tall radio and cellular structures told a story of the expanse of the land in the northern counties, and the long, uninterrupted stretches of highway punctuated the size of the farms they bordered.  From a cycling perspective, despite the history and the scenery and the back-story - the real magic of this ride could be felt through those very roads.  One example, 180th street, near Troy, KS., traces the alignment of one of those old railroads, as it exits town on what is briefly signed K-136.  It is along this road where I found mileage markers - big ones, in the neighborhood of "mile 280" , etc.  I believe, though I can't find confirmation yet, that we'd ridden on an old alignment of K-7, which enters Troy and then curves back on west what is now signed "195th Access Rd.", leading back to the alignment which K-7 follows today.  Old-road geek?  Yeah... sorry.  I find it interesting, and good riding, to find oneself on abandoned pavement once rated for truck traffic and high-speed automobile use.  I wouldn't mind coming back up this way and retracing the whole bypass, just for fun.  Especially notable here is the Mt. Olive Cemetery, which alone would be worth the return trip.

Leaving K-7 behind, we moved onto my "new favorite road", Kansas 20.  For nearly 24 miles, we'd only encounter two trucks... and I'm not sure it wasn't the same truck headed out, and then - later - back home... and two, giant John Deere farm tractors.  Assuming I didn't space out one or two, it's safe to say the traffic was extremely light - something on the order of maybe 1 car per 2 hours until we reached US-73 near Horton.  Along the way the group meandered around, conversations hooked on here and there, and then we'd rotate - against no particular schedule.  After everyone seemed sufficiently warmed-up, individual pacing took over and we began to spread out, as is natural.  Glen and Dave and I found ourselves off the front, working the hills of K-20 and taking in the crystalline skies, high-altitude wisps of cirrus clouds, soaring birds and calm, cool breezes served up on perfect pavement.  The sun at our backs, eventually some layers had to come off.  It was shaping up to be a marvelous day - just gorgeous riding weather.  I felt good, engaged, strong - though I'd become dogged by a clicking under my right kneecap - something that started off the bike, oddly - for the entire day.  Happening on each upstroke, there wasn't any pain or discomfort - just a loud "click", which I could feel if I'd take occasion to rest my hand over my knee while pedaling.  Strange -- and loud enough to hear clearly.  Even as I write this, there remains no evidence anything is out of place - so, I'll ignore it for now.  Still, it struck me that perhaps I should work on keeping the RPM's up - so, I figured with 32 miles in it was time to shift gears.  So much for that fleeting idea of riding this one "semi-single-speed".  

Detours on Nutrition:

Finally at Horton, I refilled with water and mixed up two fresh bottles of fuel.  Lately, for me, it's been 100% maltodextrin, purchased in bulk, and a GU Brew fizzy-tablet added for electrolytes and flavor, in beneficial bicarbonate form.  Apparently, my trusted "Carboplex" (by Unipro Nutrition) is no longer being made - which stinks - but I found a replacement by "Now Sports" called "Carbo Gain," off a tip from Alex S., from RAAM.  Same stuff as Carboplex -- but, there are pros and cons:  Carboplex was "instantized", which rendered the powder in such a way that it is flaked, and won't bond to its neighbors in the packaging.  The results are remarkable, as Carboplex almost dissolved instantly, as soon as it made contact with the water I'd mix it into - as fast as I'd pour it in, it would simply slip down into the water and disappear.  Carbo Gain, on the other hand, is cheaper - and as far as I can tell, it's because the instantizing step is skipped in their process.  It's still 100% maltodextrin, with nothing added - just like Carboplex - but the powder is made up of smaller particles, which is great - because a serving now takes up less space than before.  This is great for storage on my rides - but, when it comes to mixing, the powder likes to clump together: when added to a bottle of water, it tends to just sit on top of the water until agitated vigorously.  Not a deal breaker - more of an observation, and reminder to leave room for the powder when filling.  More precisely, fill the bottle halfway, add powder, shake, then top off with water.  Finally, the CO2 release from the fizzy-tabs helps the powder separate, and by the time I get around to drinking the final result, it's all dissolved.  Added bonus:  my dollars-per-serving compared to Carboplex have fallen with the discovery of this new powder: win!  Amazon has the Carbo Gain stuff in 8 lb. tubs for around $22.00, compared to Carboplex's $17 (average) for 2.6 lbs.  Not bad, and the savings alone puts the minor mixing weirdness in good perspective.  

Since this new powder takes up lass physical space per serving, it adds another win: since I could carry more volume - I actually did.  As opposed to running a big caloric deficit by the end of my recent rides, I finished this ride in very good shape.  The solution previously was always easy - just get a bigger saddle bag -- but I never did.  I'd try to make up for the losses by eating more at the controls... something else I never managed to get around to.  It's taken me a while to get past the wives' tale of keeping my hydration and nutrition separate - but, I finally feel like I've wised-up.  This system delivers about 300 calories per 25 oz. bottle, plus electrolytes, delivered with two good swigs every 15 minutes, I never felt hungry, never felt thirsty, and never felt any inkling of a cramp or bonk.  This is compared to about 210 calories in ONE 25oz. bottle, with only water and electrolytes in the other bottle, and random food at the controls including chocolate milk.  In the past, this ultimately put me WAY behind on calories between controls, but seemingly over-hydrated - as I'd have to make frequent nature breaks.  On this latest ride, despite the fluid intake being the same as usual, the nature breaks were almost nill - and the few I did take seemed to indicate good hydration levels.  Granted, had it been hotter, this might not have worked exactly the same - I might have needed a third, hydration-only, bottle - but, for today, I'm extremely pleased with the results and have a good template to repeat on future rides.  Over the past run I've tried munching between controls, tried Hammer Solids, tried all these things with varied success... but, I need to keep it simple for myself.  If I can drink it, I'll get the calories.  All in all, nutrition is up, energy is up, and my control routine comes away simplified.  The only off-bike food I consumed:  a 16oz chocolate milk at Horton on the way out, and a 16oz. Coke at Troy on the way back in.  If I get the urge for something solid, I can always do so -- but, even while I watched others eat real food at the controls, I just never felt the urge.  The math indicates I might have still been a bit off - so something resembling a light lunch at one of the controls might be in order.

On that note, and as the final observation for nutrition, I may add a Clif-Bar here and there to get some light protein intake as well as something solid to chew on.   A role previously filled by the chocolate milk, I've finally relegated it - officially - to a recovery-only treat.  After leaving the Horton control, and after the habitual 16oz chocolate milk had been downed, I immediately felt lethargic and leaden - a theme which has repeated over the last couple of rides, always in the first 20 minutes after each control where I'd consumed the dairy treat.  I watched the leaders, whom I'd previously been able to hang with, advance up the road - and it took that usual 20 minutes for me to burp a few dozen times and regain my push.  Not worth it anymore, I decided - so that represented the last chocolate milk for this ride (and probably any future ride), until I'd reach the finish at Elwood.  Summary... one bottle to rule them all?  Seems that way...and I'll test it again in September, for sure.  It's like the "old days" with bottles of Hammer's Sustained Energy.... but far, far cheaper per-mile, and easier to carry.

Back on the road, we proceeded through the Kickapoo Reservation on K-20, and enjoyed more of the same good pavement and rolling scenery.  Traffic picked up a little bit, with a high concentration of motorcycles out for a Saturday AM cruise - even got a wave out of a few of 'em, which was nice.  As we crossed the Delaware River toward the western edge of the reservation and neared the US-75 corridor, the fairy-tale zero-traffic conditions would evaporate for a while - though, things still seemed less busy than the myriad other highways I've ridden recently on my local routes.  The time on US-75 ended quickly, and we advanced towards the halfway control at Wetmore, along Kansas route 9, entering Nemaha County along the way.  We took a good rest there, and with Spencer close by the control officiating came easy - a postcard dropped, and Glen and Dave - who had stayed several minutes ahead  after Horton - had theirs signed at the local library: the only establishment open for business in town.  Proof that all you need for a good control is a park bench and a place to fill up your bottles, we set up shop at the city park, and sat for a bit - giving Terry and Billy an opportunity to catch up, as they were only a few minutes behind us.  Initially nervous about the prospect of a halfway control with absolutely no services, I rested easier -- partly because I was with a great group and partly because of my nutrition strategy, which only required me to find drinking water.  It's all a matter of being prepared, really - and with the excellent roads, the scenery, the mystique of the Reservation land, well - I have no reservations about returning to ride this route again, even if I am used to being pampered with a Casey's every 20 miles.

The turn-around, the approaching cloud cover, and the realization that our excellent pace had been helped with a slight tailwind altered the flavor of the return leg slightly - but everyone was all-smiles as we headed out of Wetmore, back onto K-9 eastbound.  The pace remained spirited, and not even a slight threat of rain catching up to us would dishearten the riders on such a terrific riding day.  The temperature had reached the forecast high of 79ºF, and the wool jersey - now my sole upper body layer - worked as perfectly as it had in the cooler temperatures of hours prior.  Landmarks came quicker, and I looked forward to the solitude and hills of K-20 again, on the leg back to Troy, KS.  Amid conversations about my recent RAAM experience, route design, and riding in general, I enjoyed nature's country - fields of cows, often skittish (or playful?), a majestic horse which came right up to the roadside fence to watch us pass by, and playful - non-aggressive for once - dogs giving chase from the other side of the road - including a gorgeous, smiling Irish Setter which came out for a good run with us; then watched a blue heron (or a crane, it was a quick glance) take flight from the low waters of the Delaware River as we crossed over its bridge; marveled at soaring buzzards with massive wingspans; songbirds finally singing happy in the wake of our recent crushing heatwave - evidence of which stood slumped like tired old men along the roadside, their brown husks rattling with thirst in the breeze; withered and parched corn and soybeans, stretching for miles.

On this return section I'd feel the tolls of the day - my lower cadence grinding earlier in the morning, though fun, had left me a little thin in the closing hours of the ride.  I never felt as if I were low on fuel or energy ... just tired, fatigued.  Adding to this, likely, as Dave and Glen settled into their established pace, I latched on and took a few pulls - and consequently overcooked things a bit for myself.  I managed to hang in, and eventually - as Dave dropped back to ride with Karen - it became Glen and me, trading hill work after the control at Horton.  I wavered between keeping up with Glen, and falling backward to join the rest of the group - a constant self-argument which got me digging into my own reserves on a few of the longer hills.  Try spinning it out.... no, that's not feeling good... ok, try standing and hammering... no.... steady pressure grinding?  Hmmm... Try as I did, Glen is just a good, strong, consistent climber --- exactly the right person to try and chase down on a good hill.  I'd slip backwards, sometimes Glen would slow up - sometimes I'd reach for another kick until fatigue won out.  This continued for a few hours, until I finally gulped my last drink within a few miles of Troy - which was about the point where I noticed Glen would get just a little farther ahead of me at each turn.  Good training... but it was time to stop for a refill and a rest.  Whoof.  This is one of many great things about the group ride:  there is always someone a touch faster... chase 'em.  Had I been solo on this journey -- I know myself -- I would've geared down and limped it in.  As long as I still have that inner fire that desires to close down a gap and chase, I know I'll reach my goals.  Sometimes, you just need that rabbit.

More small-town park benches and gas-station cafes.... I grabbed a Coke, some water, and let the batteries recharge a bit as the remainder of the group trickled in, only a few minutes behind Glen and me.  Fueled and ready, the last 15 miles or so called.  We were ahead of the rain, the wind was favorable, the temperature perfect - saddle up.  Back on US-36, traffic - and riding single file - took the foreground.  We stayed together and made quick work of the miles to Wathena, then peeled off onto smaller roads for the final push to Elwood and the finish, enjoying some time on the "old" US-36 heading into town.  

Ultimately back at the start line, NOW I could enjoy a chocolate milk, and a soothing (?) drive home on I-29... okay, that's the only part I'd change.  Now, rail service to St. Joseph?  Mmmm... wouldn't that have been choice?  Hindsight is 20/20, indeed - but, it might have been romantic to have ended this particular ride by hauling my bicycle up into a Kansas City, Clay County & St. Joseph (KCCC&STJIRR) rail-car for the journey home.  (sigh)  I wax on about an age I never experienced in the first place, though it still would have been a terrific alternative to driving.  It's a game of money, land rights, and corporate ridiculousness that I won't waste too many more keystrokes on, for this webpage, and history shows once those rails are pulled up, they'll not likely be back - as is the case here.  Interstate highways, however, in not too many more decades, simply won't be enough.  My impossible wish surrounds our forebears having exercised a touch more foresight in their time, as we, now, slowly approach an age where automobile ownership becomes less and less practical - and yet, our political leaders and financiers become less and less motivated towards a solution.  Electric rail-cars?  How green!  How today!  ...and that was in the 1930's!  Alas, I waste my own breath... but, it's my nature to hope, wish, and "remember".

I think that's part of what keeps me on the bike.  Even though these rides in particular are recreational in nature, I'm taking part in something that is almost - save for minor technological improvements over the decades - unchanged, and timeless.  In my wool togs, upon my steel-tubed bike, pitting sinew and calories against grade and wind - it could be 1912, 2012, or 2112... and I love that.  Be it pastime or primary motive, may cycling forever thrive.

So, 130 miles... 9 hours, 55 minutes total time... 16.4 MPH avg rolling.... and a big smile.

Thanks for reading, as always - and cheers.

Another one rides the bus

I dunno why I chose that title --- I just love that old Al Yankovic tune!

200+ km, finished!  

Excellent ride today, two-in-a-row now, on a new-to-me route up in NE Kansas, around US-36 near St Joseph, MO.

Spencer K., Billy C., Terry B., Glen R., Dave M. and Karen W.

First off... a full pleasure to ride with such a group.  1,200km vets, a RAAM finisher, a KCBC racer, and members of the St. Joseph club - a very strong bunch.  The terrain around St. Jo on which they normally train makes for a very solid and well-rounded cyclist, and it shows.  I enjoyed pulls, took a few and felt the burn (a GOOD feeling, by the way), and managed to hang-in, generally - though I over-cooked it a few times here and there.  Good training!  

I'm pleased with the results I've seen from a recent off-bike strength-training regimen, as well -- this being the first 200k since that program began.

I'm not not sure - because I have not weighed myself - if I have lost any weight, but I have lost inches and have gained strength where I previously had very little.  Does this help the bike?  Mmmm...yes: probably more than I realize.  This is all part of the "train for something, even if I don't know what that something IS yet" plan ... more like a plan to create the best "me" I can be, nothing more.  I got tired of hearing myself talking about it, and finally got "a round to it".  Four weeks is a good start -- I still have a long way to go, but that's the point:  it takes time.  Once of these days, there will be a smooth transition from my cycling jersey to my cycling shorts, and I might actually look like a "cyclist" - whatever THAT means.  Photographic evidence from today seems to indicate I'm on the right path, though, so I'm happy.

More to come -- something resembling a blog post for today's ride!

Stay tuned!  

I'm kinda diggin' this group-ride thing, and choosing new routes - even if it means driving a little to get there.  A great day out today!  

Princely Sums - the July 200k

As I scheduled this latest ride with Spencer, I became mindful of the last time I had the bright idea of keeping the R-12 run going after the 2008-2009 virgin run.  Dubbed “Lucky 13”, at the time it stood as an indication that I really needed some time off and distance from … well... distance.  I vowed never to try the Knob Noster 200k again, and proceeded to think about restarting the R-12 run a few more times throughout 2009 and 2010, and 2011... until this last, successful, run of 2011-12.  Now - somehow - I find it easier to stay into a routine of one-per-month, so while I’m still relaxing on the prospect that I can “start over” at any point now that I’m back at ride #1, the notions of burn-out or stopping the routine exist only as shadows.  That’s a good thing -- because it means I’m in a good place, and I am really enjoying my riding.

So, this month, whether we’re calling it #13 or R-12 vol.3 no.1, or just “the July ride”, it wasn’t a chore or a challenge to commit.  Date set, as usual, vehicle packed, off to the start line for an early departure - this time on the Princeton Roundabout route.  Not unfamiliar territory, and clearly I’m still in a bit of a rut when it comes to rando routes for myself - but, I had a mind to stay close to home, close to familiar surroundings and populations.  The forecast showed hot, 104ºF forecast - which would ultimately deliver.  It doesn’t take much to get on the wrong side of hydration for me, and the local roads and concentration of c-stores would be appreciated late in the day.

Along for the fun came Gary and Glen, repeat offenders from the June 200km - the three of us ride pretty well together, and I always welcome the good conversation and company.  This time out was no different - we tackled the early hills and made our way out to Eudora, squinting through fogged-up glasses in the early morning humidity as the sun began to climb out from behind the trees, all while we chatted away about this and that.  For a few hours, the conditions bathed us in comfort - but it wouldn’t last.  It has been desperately hot here in the KC-area for several weeks now, and lately we haven’t been out of the triple-digits during the day, and have rarely dipped below 75 at night.  The heat has been accompanied by a pretty lengthy drought, as well.  As I write this, a chance of thunderstorms brews to the west - and I can’t describe how amazing that will be, should it hold together.   Fingers are crossed, for farmers especially; as we rode alongside this farm and that, the lack of rain sat evident on the withered crops.

Our pace matched the weather, to my delight and surprise.  The group, either filled with energy from good training or filled with motivational dread to try and outrun the coming heat of the day, set a solid pace over the first 2/3rds of the ride.  I don’t imagine we broke any course records, but, for me, the average speed felt faster than I thought I’d have been capable of in the hot conditions.  

Numbers....

Since I’m a numbers-guy by trade and spend a large part of my day soaked in spreadsheets and data, extending that into my cycling is almost unavoidable; so, no surprise that it got me thinking about goals in general and past performances.  I’m on an upward trend - my first R-12 saw an average speed, over the 12 rides, of 14.7MPH rolling... despite having bright spots where I had averaged 17.0mph on one particular 200k during that run.  The message there simply indicates a lack of consistency; for, also in that run sits a low average of 12.9mph.  Compared to the high of 17.0, that’s a spread of over 4MPH.  Partly, I found it interesting that my highest averages happened upon the Trek 450 when I’d had it built up with Shimano 105 and zippy Mavic Ksyrium wheels.  The lower numbers happened on my Kogswell, with fenders, lights, and rack.  Since that run, however, the Trek has been retired and the frame/fork hung back over the workbench with pride - but, I have managed to increase my speed on the Kogswell - which shows in the 2nd R-12 run, with an overall average of 15.65MPH, and a range of only 1.7MPH from the highest to lowest marks.  Consistency has improved, and rolling speed sits nearly a full MPH above the ‘08 numbers.  With the Trek out of the equation, that’s a happy improvement... but I can’t help wondering how the numbers might look with a “faster” bike back in the stable.  I have yet to best any 2003 numbers, but this potential 3rd run might be “the one.”  That’s with all things being equal; what had changed from ‘08 to ‘12?  The fabled bike fit, and a slight drop in body mass, specifically.  All in all, steps in the correct direction - healthwise, and in efficiency.  Weather and route choices... hard to tell, but - typical for my route rut - I rode the Border Patrol route nearly as much in ‘08 as I had this last year, so it’s potentially safe to say “all else was equal”.  To the notion of having a goal, though, even if one doesn’t yet KNOW the goal, it may be a worthy personal challenge to try and raise my 3rd R-12 average speed another full MPH, and try and grab the elusive 17.0mph average again on a few brevets or permanents.  That Trek 450 is still in the garage, waiting for parts.... but, maybe it really ISN’T about the bike, and I can keep building speed on the Kogs?  We’ll see.  Fun to play with numbers and scenarios, however.  Okay, enough numerology for this post.

Food....

Eudora, KS. came and went with a quick control and restroom break -- this time, chocolate milk on tap, and a banana.  In the bottles, Carboplex and Emergen-C powder -- seemed to work well, but, ultimately I think my fizzy GU-Brew tablets perform better in the kind of heat we experienced.  That, I’m finally figuring, represents my “perfect bottle” - about 250-300 calories, a tiny bit fizzy with a tiny bit of flavor, and a good electrolyte profile.  My problems start (as they would today) when I float between feeling awesome all day, or packing light.  It’s never a conscious choice... but I always end up packing light when it comes to food.  It’s time to scrap the minimalist BS and simply keep enough fuel on-board for the job at hand.  Supplementing with food at controls works, but, deep into each ride, I always end up on the nutritional short end as I slip into deficit while riding.  Problem #1, I know I need food - but towards the end of rides, I have trouble eating anything - I eat too slow, and can’t seem to shove enough in - plus, at that point, NOTHING sounds good anymore.  Problem #2, I don’t want to carry a lot of stuff (bags of powder) -- the easiest problem to solve is the latter: carry enough for the ride, no matter how much that might be!  >400 km?, use the bag service (if offered).  Possible mitigation to Problem number 2:  save the powder until late in the ride if I don’t want to carry as much of it:  eat at the controls while I have the appetite... then mix the drinks later when I start to have trouble motivating myself to ingest anything solid.  There are SO many approaches to randonneuring - but, for me - as many times as I’ve tried to disprove it to myself - things work better when I can just mix and drink, especially deep into the ride.  It’s time to simply be “ok” with that approach, put nutrition concerns on the “done” shelf again, and get a rack trunk or slightly larger saddle bag to carry what I need.  Witnessing Alex’s performance on RAAM, I know it can be done from one bottle .. my only hurdle becomes getting around not having a follow-car.

Ah, plans.... I’m great at theory.... terrible at practice.  

The first hints of nutritional shortfalls came on the run between Ottawa and Princeton... always a weirdly difficult section.  It’s only 6-7 miles, but it trends uphill slightly on a false flat, and it’s nearly always into a weighty headwind.  Combined with the featureless highway shoulder and lack of landmarks, progress comes slow, lathered with tedium.  I spent the miles time-trialing up to Glen’s wheel, only to pop and fade backwards ... Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen would echo in my head occasionally, motivational quotes and commentary ripe from this year’s ‘Tour playing in my head as I pedaled.  Princeton came, eventually, and the half-way checkpoint... and, “hey, did it just get hotter?”

It had.  Even though the local bank thermometer read “only” 85ºF, the rate at which the temperature had begun to increase took center-stage as we three prepped for the long slog to Osawatomie, 17 miles to the east.  We’d still have a headwind, and the section remains quite exposed - but, we were ready.  Normally a bit of a death-march, the three of us maintained high spirits as we kept a great pace eastbound.  A lot of the journey became a heads-down affair, yet, we made decent time and soon began to see indications of the town limits coming back into view.  More of the same, off-green, drought-parched fields yielded to houses, and soon we rolled through Osawatomie to the local Casey’s store for another stop and refill of water - something which started to become more and more important.  Certainly now the temperature had climbed to near 95, as we hid from the blazing sun on the shady side of the building.

We made our way out of town, refreshed and refilled, for the next leg to Paola, KS along Old KC Road and its steady gradient.  The last eastward push would finally see us depart the cross-headwinds to accept a slight acceleration from nature for the final roads pointing north for home.  At this point, my tank’s virtual “low fuel light” would pop on - the toils of the day beginning to outrun my caloric intake.  As foretold above, this ride would end up no different than any other in recent memory - cramps revealed themselves, reminding me to drink, and general lethargy reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything at Osawatomie.  Finally reaching Paola, some snacks, my last baggie of powder introduced into a waiting bottle, and a terrific homemade energy bar from Glen helped set things straight.  The trend was the same, throughout the group - however... the heat continuing to build, its effects showing on everyones face.

Paola represented the last control - and that means “it’s in the bag!’  Of course, we still had to pedal the last 35 miles or so.  Ugh... all I’d wanted to do was sit -- and with the invitation of park benches set up outside the Philips 66 station, in the shade, sit we did.

As we rolled out of the last control, Gary knew exactly how to get my mind off things - even though I hadn’t made any outward complaints, my state must have been apparent.  The ensuing conversation about hot-weather clothing choices and different jersey manufacturers helped the miles out of Paola pass quickly and smoothly, and soon we checked off Hillsdale and continued to Spring Hill without a hiccup.  For the first time on such a short ride, and for the first time during the daylight, I’d pulled out the night-time mental arsenal:  the MP3 player and the single-ear earbud.  The distraction helped me forget about the distance yet to cover, and I matched cadence and tempo to flatten the rollers on Ridgeview as we continued north.  A few passing clouds provided some relief from the hot sun, and some random cramps reminded me to keep drinking - stay on top!  

We passed the QuikTrip (the one I always forget about) at 135th (Santa Fe)  and Ridgeview - a stop I should have, on paper, taken.  The next ten miles would prove to be the most difficult of the entire day, possibly the hardest ten miles of my 2012 riding season thus far.  Gary proved to be a picture of consistency, his pace and strength identical to 9 hours prior, but that’s a former RAAM-finisher for you...lessons to be learned there, certainly.  Glen had indicated at Spring Hill that he hadn’t felt great, but didn’t feel bad enough to stop -- and I just felt like stopping altogether!  It hadn’t been my hottest day on the bike, weather-wise, and certainly this hadn’t been the first time the hills on Renner would test the legs -- but it wasn’t the grade as much as the day’s toll being collected, with interest - a princely sum in the moment - as rolling cramps accompanied ANY pitch in the road, no matter the length, no matter my gear choice.  I popped more electrolytes and guzzled my remaining water to stave off the twinges.  I knew if I stopped, it would be game-over until I could rest... and with only 5 scant miles to go, that was out of the question.  A sub-10 hour finish teased, still within reach... but the tanks were dry, and engineering began switching everything over to reserves.  As I pedaled through the protest in my muscles I precariously reached for my third water bottle, lashed with a toe-strap to my rear rack.  A few attempts loosened the strap enough, and Glen - playing domestique - rolled close and freed the bottle the rest of the way.   As I took it up I doused my overheated quads with cool liquid, then drank my fill until the cramps finally subsided.  THANKS, GLEN!  

We three were fortunate to reach every traffic light along Renner without having to put a foot down (if only briefly for Gary, as he bested us to each light) - a blessing, indeed, as any notion of rest would have thrown my legs back into fits.  I’d taken up plenty of water - so I’d thought - since Princeton, but, the lack of nature’s call spoke volumes on my real condition - whatever I’d drunk hadn’t been enough, ultimately, and I had been lucky the worst waited until nearly the last control.  The joy of the long downhill on Renner over I-435, and the last control -- quickly inside to the thick air conditioning, card signed and finalized, and more fluids on-board to start the recovery process...  Finished!  

Despite having kept to my usual hydration formula, I think the added humidity of the day played a big factor during those last, difficult miles near the end of this edition.  Thinking back to how I’d started my recently-completed R-12 run, last July on this very route, it had been just as hot, and notes from that ride indicate I had the same cramping issues (though not nearly as bad) in the closing miles, too.  Perhaps it’s Renner, perhaps it’s me, perhaps it’s both -- but if I ride the Princeton Roundabout again, I’m giving serious thought to stopping at that QuikTrip on Ridgeview and downing a quart of Gatorade or similar before tackling those last ten, seemingly benign miles back to Shawnee.  Previously of the mindset that the QuikTrip lay only 10 miles from the end, my gut tells me to push on... but, if stopping briefly prevents those last few ugly cramps on the hills, why not?  The “in-town” nature of this particular route seems to squeeze any hydration reserves I have RIGHT out of me, right in those hills heading through Lenexa, KS., and I’m simply not taking on enough to prevent it.  All-in-all, however, with a decent average speed of 16.1 to show for it, I’ll take it with a little pain and discomfort.  

Gary and Glen -- as always, a true pleasure... thanks for coming out on this ride!  

Stay tuned for August!

Hot 13

Another 200km permanent ride in the books, this one barely tops my
personal temperature record, raising it from 103 to 104 at the end of
the ride, which wrapped right around 3pm yesterday. Had I wanted to
smash my old record, I would have ridden today in the forecast 107F
heat... Yikes! Stay tuned for the blog post, and thanks to Glen and
Gary for coming along for this one!

This thing on?

I'm still alive, yes - but life has been a bit nutty lately, and many
things involving social media and blogging have taken a back seat.
There don't seem to be enough hours in the day anymore to sit at the
keyboard... But that's summertime for ya.

I've been riding a lot more than usual for the last few summers,
getting in consistent commutes, even in the heat and drought
conditions the Midwest had been suffering. I have turned my training
rides north, back to the hills of Johnson Drive, Renner, and Pflumm.
The rewards are coming slower than they did when I was a younger man,
but they are coming. The key is not to let them slip in the first
place - the drone of complaint from the middle-aged American male.

Like I posted about many moons ago, train for something... Even if you
don't know what it is yet. I'm still "training", and having a great
time doing it, even if my only exploits involve dominating the "roller
coaster" stage of the bike trail commute home. Small potatoes... But
they're mine. And they're tasty. Hahaha!

The next R-12 run begins this weekend with a hot 202km ride around the
Princeton Roundabout route. I feel the need to travel.... I love the
local circuit, but I yearn for more variety in my randonneuring, so in
the coming months I plan to drive farther out to more routes that I
haven't tried yet. The KCUC perms catalog is huge... Enough for
several R-12s without repeating a route... The problem is me, my
nerves about unknown routes, and my hesitance to drive when I could be
riding...but it's time to branch out and explore!

I've also been auditioning some new tires lately, which is a new
branch in of itself. It takes quite a special tire to get me off my
trusted Panaracer Pasela rubber, but these looked promising and
represented the first tires I've found that resembled my previous
favorites: the long-discontinued Continental Ultra 2000s. The
candidate is the Specialized Espoir model in 700x25c. I have played
with several models of Specialized tires over the years, but have only
really been impressed with their mountain and utility tires, most
notably the venerable Nimbus. Their performance road tires have
always had an issue or two I could never quite get around, but this
one - so far - is hitting all the right notes. They are cheaper than
my Paselas, roll faster, are lighter, and seem fairly bomb-proof
without a rubbish ride quality. Look for a full review after I have a
chance to burn all the tread away and give them a good, long term
trial.

I still have things to relate about my recent RAAM experience, too,
but will save most of that for a later post - overdue, yes. I will
say that it remains an utterly humbling experience seeing the talent
in the UMCA world firsthand, and - trying not to be terribly defeatist
- I'm not an ultra-cyclist. I was, perhaps, briefly, in 2003...but,
it will be a long, long road back, should I even choose that
particular path. I like randonneuring, I like exploring... But, as a
good friend said recently, it may well be inevitable that I, someday,
try the big one. Speaking of picking something to train for, however;
first things first: until I find redemption at Tejas, RAAM or RAW is
only a dream. Walk the path... One step at a time. I've seen things
from the support van... The question that only I can answer remains
"now what?"

Among several projects around the house, that's about the size of
things lately - stay tuned for that tire review and a recap of the
upcoming 200k, and for goodness-sake, stay cool, stay hydrated, and
stay funky, people!

Training Wheels

The last edition of this second R-12 run wrapped up in good company, with Karen W., Gary D., Glen R., and me enjoying classic conditions for the Border Patrol route from Olathe to Pleasanton, KS. and back.  Winds began calm, but were forecast to increase as the day grew long, which would promise a tailwind-assisted blast back north once we made the 70-some miles to the turn-around.  Another group, not riding for credit, would leave the eastern part of the county about 30 minutes ahead of us, just out for a good training ride along much of the same route -- and we wouldn't even see them until much, much later in the day.  


For once, I elected to start this ride at a decent hour, and on a "regular" riding day.  With part of the family out of town, I became open to schedule the ride for a Saturday date, and a 6:00am start!  WHAT???  So un-Dude-like... but, small wonder I normally ride solo.  This was a treat -- no need for headlights, no need to too-early an alarm bell!  We gathered, checked in, and started our march south bound along the US-69 corridor.  


It was training time, in more ways than one.  Along for the ride, as I mentioned, Karen and Gary turned out to both be RAAM veterans, from back a few years.  So, with my rookie RAAM crew chief debut on the horizon at the time, it was a terrific opportunity to soak up the brain-gravy of these two superb and accomplished riders.  Gary finished RAAM as a soloist in 1983, rider number 18 (rider numbers are a lifetime assignment), and Karen holds rider number 41.  Looking down the list of solo rider numbers on the RAAM website, it is remarkable how many of these folks I know personally, or have at least ridden with on a few occasions.  It's humbling, indeed.  Even more remarkable, to think of the accomplishment of riding such an event over 20 years ago, without some of the technological advances we enjoy today -- I'd argue that finishing today is (as if it is possible to comprehend graduating the difficulty of the world's toughest cycling event) easier than it had been in the early years.  Granted, one still has to pedal the bicycle, but with GPS, vitamin concoctions, engineered nutrition, laptops, tablets and smartphones - at least some elements of the race are "easier".  The bulk of the 200k would be spent theorizing and discussing RAAM method and technique, along with horror stories and cautionary tales.  Worth gold, all of it, and with my RAAM adventure only days away, the timing was perfect.


We made Louisburg in good time, freshened up a bit, and then continued over the rolling hills towards the highway section which would lead us to La Cygne.  I still can't wait until Linn County ... or extreme southern Miami County (whichever it is) ... decides to pave Jingo Road from 359th to 335th.  Many times I've said it... this section of highway should just isn't my favorite.  Soon, however, we were back on smaller roads and enjoying the day unfolding before us.  La Cygne came quick on a wave of conversation and good times, and with it - food.     While we refilled and ate, we learned that the eastern group had only come through perhaps 30 minutes before us... we weren't doing too bad, but we weren't really focused on catching them, either.  It was getting warmer, and hills lay in wait up the road.  No sense rushing.


I had, despite the heat, decided to go back to my tried-n-true chocolate milk routine at the controls.  The WMGM ride last month proved very difficult and taxing, and I can't help wonder if some of it was nutritional in nature.  Instead of worrying about the ambient temperature's effect on my ability to digest diary products, I went back to what had worked so well on the 400km ride.  Interspersed with Carboplex, a 16oz chocolate milk not only tasted great, but also provided a shot of protein, some carbs, and a smidgin of sugar.  So, so good... smooth... and effective.  The payback, however, came about 10 miles after leaving La Cygne, where I began to feel a little stomach lethargy.... but, it had been quick to pass, and power lifted once again.  Close call... or perhaps it was just the heat... but, the resulting energy and "full" feeling was undeniable.


One, two, three... the big hills between La Cygne and Pleasanton checked off, one by one -- and, a bit of a challenge with each as I found a strong climbing rabbit in Glen.  Astride his tech-filled Pinarello steed, and a strong rider, I found it difficult many time to hold his wheel while the grade increased underneath us.  Excellent training opportunity... and, many times, I was bested.  Sure, sure - that's not what randonneuring is about, but hey... a bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone, and I love a good hill-climb throwdown.  Not since riding with DMar or Staatz had I gotten such a good thrashing.  Love it!


Shortly before arriving back at the Pleasanton turnaround, confirmation of our position was confirmed by riders flaying back north with the promised tailwind.  Steve B, Steve G., and at least one other rider were making great time coming back north along the otherwise cyclist-free route.  Steve G. hollered about extra water waiting for us at the c-store back in town, and with a few waves and smiles, that was that.  They'd be finished, showered, and enjoying a cold one hours before we'd be finished for the day.  Indication of my increased desires to resume actual "training" for rides, for things like... well, RAAM.  Yeah, it's a distant, distant goal ... and, really, possibly one that will never come to pass - for many, many reasons.  I'm still very much on training wheels when it comes to ultra RACING.  Much as I tire of referring to "the good ole days", there was a time when I took the speed and competition of riding far more seriously, and not regarding sleep deprivation, I had managed fairly good showings at the handful of races I've tried.  Tejas still lingers as unfinished business... but, with each passing year I become more and more satisfied with myself, and not so concerned with what I HAVEN'T done.  Looking at the gap the earlier group had grown, their speed and conditioning -- and knowing that I am overweight, under-trained, and undisciplined with regards to diet... well, I'm a long, long way off from even considering RAAM - even team RAAM, or RAW, or even Tejas again.  Perhaps the fire is dying... perhaps with age I am genuinely "okay" with "just" randonneuring pursuits.. as if that was the same as arm-chair quaterbacking.  It looks and sounds a lot like justification as I write it out, here in print... but, I feel no pang of anxiety, no self-doubt, no angst towards that which I have tried and failed.  Perhaps, then, that is the best indication that I *am* ready to start a long, steady ramp-up to competitive form.  If I already have the gift of going long... perhaps just another 10-15% effort towards speed and diet would get me there.  Perhaps, now in my 4th decade, I am finally comfortable enough in my own skin to no longer NEED to do an ultra race to prove something... perhaps it's time to finally do it for fun.  That, generally, guarantees the best showing.  I'm here to say, however, no matter what the next decade holds... I'm okay with whatever.  It's taken a long, long time for me to arrive at a place where that truth exists... where I don't "need to"... I can simply "want to".  Still, I am also very much aware, and motivated, to not simply "give in" to age and retire to an easy chair with my memories.  I still want another 600k.  I still want a 1,000k.  I still want a 1,200k... possibly in Paris.  To think that I wouldn't also want to, someday, return to Tejas and come home with a trophy is foolish.  It is inevitable, really; this bicycling thing - after all - is what I do.  But, regret, anxiety, anxiousness... those feelings are gone.  When I go back, it will not be about reconciling the past... it will be about realizing a refreshed goal, for new - more realistic - reasons.  Compared to those "good ole days", this time around, if it does happen, it will be for fun.  


Finally, the tailwind would help push us along the road home - back at La Cygne and with the hills behind us, we fueled up once more and began the steady march back along Jingo Road, back along the highway section - at speed.  The only problem with a tailwind, as Glen posited as we turned north, is the heat.  Suddenly the heat of the day became much more apparent in the vacuum of the tailwind, but spirits remained high and conversation brisk.  


I've said it before, and I'll say it again --- riding in a group is a lot more satisfying than riding solo.  I am proud of my ability to maintain my own pace and keep myself motivated and cared for when completely isolated - but for sheer good-times, nothing beats the group element of randonnuering.  As the miles ticked by, the smiles remained intact.  Finally reaching Louisburg, then Stilwell, and even on the seemingly endless slog along 175th street, desperately looking for that last turn north to the finish, it remained a fun ride.  Along Murlen, we played tag with a rider out for a spin on his A. Homer Hilsen Rivendell bike (such a gorgeous machine), and finally made the parking lot for the 7-Eleven store... and, finally, R-12 number two for me!  Such a good feeling!  


Thanks for sharing the ride, everyone that came along... and for the RAAM advice... there was more than one occasion where I pulled quotes, information and thoughts from our conversations during this ride.  I look forward to riding with you all again, and sharing the post-RAAM stories that I now hold.  June 2012... what a great month this has been!


Stay tuned... the 'dude isn't done riding yet.  That's for sure... R-12 #3, anyone?  Why not?  :)


Thanks for reading!!!

RAAM wrap-up

Race Across America has proved to be the experience of a lifetime -- never before have I had so much to organize, think about, coordinate, execute upon; on such little sleep or food.  I made lifelong friends in a short period of time, tested myself and watched others do the same - and, above all, watched the exploits of a truly talented cyclist unfold before me.  Unfortunately, accidents do happen.  It's a part of RAAM, and a part of cycling.  While climbing Wolf Creek Pass in the Colorado Rockies, between Pagosa Springs and South Fork, my rider suffered a fall.  While negotiating the steepest part of the climb, in traffic, and with nasty shoulder conditions, his front wheel got into something - and, as part of the maneuver to right himself he fell sideways and landed directly onto his left hip, breaking it.  This ended Alex Shnyra's RAAM bid, and was heartbreaking for the team.  It could have been much, much worse... a motorist and two motorcyclists witnessed the incident and helped block traffic, while the team and an official worked to get him off the mountain and to hospital, where x-rays confirmed the result.

There is simply too much to relate here... my brain is still decompressing after almost 1,000 miles of pavement covered, the blur of towns and hotels and gas stations, and every conceivable gravel pull-out between the Pacific Ocean and Wolf Creek Pass.  The only things I can say -- the team was brilliant.  For a group of non-cyclists and an Ironman triathlete, led by someone (me) that had never really led a team before, I think we did a fantastic job, and I am immensely proud of having gotten him to the mountain.  Nine solo riders dropped out before Alex's fall, for non-accident reasons.  We rallied to make the time cut-off at Durango - one of the most intense and stressful (yet, rewarding) moments of the ride.  We climbed nearly all the race's climbing - Wolf Creek Pass represented the last mountain before reaching Alex's preferred flatlands of eastern Colorado and Kansas, and we had made up 6 placings on the way to the top.  The plan was working... but, as I said... accidents happen.  I'm glad Alex survived largely unscathed -- yeah, it's a broken hip, but surgery went great, he has a rod in place, and is already up and walking around back in Kansas City... and we're forming plans and lessons-learned for next time.  It may be next year... it may be 2014, or 15... but it is certain:

This is unfinished business.

Out of over 1,000 photos, I tried to find one that typified the event --- but it was not easy.

This one, I like -- but doesn't scratch the surface.

Arizona, the desert... and while many focus on the Rockies as the "real climbing", trust me.... Arizona has more, and it is worse.  

The only reward for the climbs is delivered as long, endless, torturous sections of pan-flat desert road, triple digit temperature, and wind.  

This was the beginning of another such section.  This would mentally level some people... but Alex never complained.  

He is a giant... and he will be back.

R-12 #2, complete!

That about sums it up.
Today, Karen W., myself, Glen R. and Gary D. headed out onto the
Border Patrol route for my last of 12 rides in succession towards RUSA
R-12 award #2. The day unfolded brilliantly, and after roughly 10
hours, the finish. Of course there is more to tell, but the hour
grows late - and a larger task than blog posting lay ahead. Thanks to
everyone that came out!

Stay tuned... The adventure is only beginning!