An Attempt At Fairness

to myself.

I spent much time early on in this blog complaining about my weight. So it is with a sense of fair play that I announce, despite an earlier pledge not to mention my weight again (this year, right? that was just for this year. I'm pretty sure) that I have finally broken below the X barrier at which I feel much better about my physical specimenhood (yeah, I just made that word up). In fact, my scale indicated nearly 10 days ago that I had fallen below the magical number (said number being the square root of what Oprah weighs, but that's another story) but I felt like I had to give it some time to make certain it wasn't just water loss, but real and actual weight loss.

I was so excited. I just had to share.

Tomorrow night will be another TNPT. I'm going to show up sporadically now, as I have classes every other Tuesday and Thursday evenings. They're professional development classes that I am choosing to take. But they're going to eat into my Tuesday night hammer-festing. Cest la vie!

I'll post how it goes either tomorrow night or Wednesday.

Worst day of the year

Yesterday was the worst ride of the year for me, bar none. I rode the Tad Beaton Memorial ride, which commemorates the last ride of a local police officer/cyclist, who was felled by heart failure during that ride. Around 200 riders gathered yesterday morning to complete the route that he started two years ago.

It seemed like a worthy event, and I was on my own as friends have other things going on, so I thought, why not? It's a route I like, with a lot of climbing. While the official route is 50 miles in length, a few of my club friends were planning a 120-130 mile ride in preparation for the BBC Double, coming up early in September.

Unfortunately the day started off badly when I forgot my water bottles. No too big of a deal ordinarily, because I could get 25 miles in, and buy a couple of gatorades at the BP in Vandiver. Then reload them on the way back through and finish the ride. But, the day was exceptionally humid. I don't normally sweat heavily, but I had it literally running down my face all morning. The air was heavy, and overcast, and worst of all, I just had no legs.

Oh, I did okay climbing Cahaba Beach Road up to Sicard Hollow, but each climb after that was tougher than the last, until the climb up the steep side of Double Oak Mountain left me completely drained.

Eventually I made it back to the end, but I really didn't have any fun yesterday. Which is distressing because I am asking myself if I've really lost that much fitness, or if I just had a bad day.

I'm hoping it was just a bad day. I'll find out on Tuesday.

Got the Bull By the Horns...

Unfortunately, where I've got him is with his horns planted firmly in my backside tonight.

It was a strange night all around. I was feeling pretty good at the start. You know, the testosterone is flowing, the big boys are all out for the big night. Ron Williams, a 2 time paralympian with 2 silver medals and 3 National Championship jerseys, another rider who was once upon a time an age group World MTB Champion (yeah, that's really cool!).

I knew it was going to hurt, but I didn't care. The smart thing to do would have been to pack up my stuff back into my car and go home...but then I've never been prone to doing the smart thing when it comes to competition. Playing golf, I go straight at the flag tucked into the corner, over water, with a bunker on the short side. In cycling, I go to the front of the big boys and try to throw it down. As usual it backfired.

The "How"

Making the right turn onto Ruffner Road, I slipped up the inside and found myself in the second row, flying up the hill (no mercy for newbies tonight), down the other side and onto the flats and over the small rollers at 33-34 mph. Was I hanging? Yeah, I wasn't doing to badly. Then we got to the final climb on Ruffner, a truly small hill, but steeper than the rest...usually the group slows just a little on this rise, but not tonight, 34 mph we went up that hill. Shortly after that, I was done. Cooked. Unable to do anything other than limp up John Rogers Drive and spin back to my car to go home.

The "Why"
It's been a very unusual week for me since last Tuesday's ride. I've been very out of sorts, my schedule has been wacky and I haven't followed my routine the way I should. As a result of this disruption, I obviously expended during the past week tremendous amounts of liquid, sodium and protein, without replacing them. Leaving me susceptible to dehydration, cramping, and muscle fatigue.

Add in a heat index of 106, and that's just a reciped for disaster. On the other hand, I had an hour to spin along with myself to keep me company, daydreaming and thinking about things. Stuff I haven't done much of lately. It was very pleasant.

The "Fix"
Probably, I need to go back into Aerobic base mode. I've been in Anaerobic mode for about 8 weeks now, and that's enough at once. Jeff would say it's time to put the bike down for a week and cross train, but I'm not going to do that. I'll just try and get back to my routine and I'm sure I'll come around in a week or two.

TNPT Strikes Back...

...or tried to anyway.

Once again it's time for the recap of the Tuesday night hurt-fest. I was feeling pretty good before the ride started tonight. The previous few rides I had done, along with the past few TNPT's had me feeling pretty confident of my ability to throw it down along with the main protagonists tonight. It turned out to be a night of going deep and long.

Nearing Ruffner Rd, DirtDog came along side me and asked me to go to the front with him to slow the pace a little on the initial climb near the ballfields. Doing this ensures that some of the newer riders don't get shelled on the first climb, and have the descent to work their way up to speed.

Sprinting up to the front, I happened to notice my HR monitor. That can't be right, I thought, as the digits were displaying 182 bpm. That's really high for me, near max HR, and certainly not commesurate with the effort being made. My legs weren't hurting, so I didn't think about it again until later on down Ruffner, I noticed once again that I was running in the high 170's, but felt fine.

On John Rogers Drive, I grabbed a wheel on the steep part of the climb and soon found myself climbing the steeper section at 22mph. With a HR of 189! At this point my legs had started to ache a bit, so I backed off, still with about 100 yards on the main group to recover for the flatter top half of JRD. It worked out fine, and I made it over the top in the front group, but still, HR in the 170's and 180's.

On Old Leeds Road, there were a couple of points at which I had to make a decision as to whether to keep pushing, or to sit up and take it easy. I fought through it and stayed with the group, but going down the descent of Old Leeds, a motorcycle passed the back half of the group (where I was located) then pulled into the middle of us and caused a split that despite chasing as hard as we could, we were unable to pull back.

When I got home, I downloaded the data from my Polar and saw why this ride hurt so badly. I had 21 minutes of riding with my HR above 176 bpm. More than 1/4 of the ride time. Another 12 minutes between 171 and 176. Jeff, you're always telling me to go deep and stay there. I guess I did tonight.

As a side note, I've really noticed how much nervous energy I expend riding in the peleton. A lot of the riders are triathletes who don't know how to ride around other riders, and the group as a whole is very nervous, and at times a scary place to be. I've seen a rider laying in the road with multiple broken bones and a 3" wide stream of blood running from their fractured skull into the gutter, while his wife lay yard away from him also with multiple broken bones, with two other riders scattered about similarly injured. All victims of a rider who decided to push his limits beyond his capabilities. It's so important to become comfortable with riding in a group if you are going to race. I've spent years riding in large groups, and I still get nervous if one rider is twitchy. Then the ride becomes even harder because I'm wasting energy on something I can't control.

Anyway, tonight's ride was good. It hurt, which I'm actually glad about. If it didn't hurt, I guess it would have been a waste of time, but after looking at my HR data, I feel like it was undoubtably the best anaerobic workout I've had all year. I actually feel like I could go race in Huntsville the end of this month and do well, (but I won't because the last time I raced that event, there were 5 crashes, and I have too many responsibilities to get taken out by some less than intelligent person who can't keep his front wheel out of my rear derailleur).

But I'll keep training anyway. There's something really great about being out in the open, pushing yourself and seeing improvement.

That's what it's all about.

Feeling Beastly

As my friend Jeff, aka "The Beast" occasionally says, "I gotta brag for a minute".

On Saturday, my friend Russ, who I ride quite a bit with, was in Sylacauga attending to an on call rotation that he has there once a month, and so I found myself anticipating the Saturday morning rollout for a ride with the boys and girls from the club. It's been a while since I've done a weekend club ride, and once my sweet wife gave me the go-ahead to join them, I was feeling good.

Unfortunately, my alarm didn't sound loudly enough to wake me up at the right time, so I pulled into the parking lot at 7:30, the appointed leave time for the ride...but luck was on my side, as they were a few minutes behind in getting started, as the group was exceptionally large, probably about 55-60 riders.

This was a day with climbs on the menu, and I was really kind of excited to see how my climbing form would match up with some of these folks. I quickly found out as we reached the bottom of Smyer and I took off. The group had gotten strung out on the flatter roads leading to the climb, and I reached the bottom about 7th or 8th in the group, and 300 yards behind the leader. I easily caught each of the riders ahead of me and continued to work hard the remainder of the climb, setting a new PR by 5 seconds.

Next up the climb up Caldwell Mill road, a bit steeper than Smyer, but just as long. 5th to the top of Caldwell Mill, in the lead group. Then out the half dozen climbs heading east on Sicard Hollow. Again, in the front group all the way to the end of Sicard Hollow/Rex Lake.

After a brief stop to reload water bottles, I had to make a decision. I could head back west on 78 into town and go home, or I could continue on with the group out to Trussville. I've never been on the roads they had planned, but I wanted to try them. Also, I was feeling like I haven't felt in years. The decision was made easier when I remembered that my wife had mentioned she was taking the kids to a program at the library that morning, and I knew I wouldn't be missed for the extra 90 minutes the rest of the ride would take. So my decision was made and I continued on the longer route.

Now, to make a long story short, let's just say that I was feeling good, attacks were flying right and left, and all of them were covered. Never once was I in any danger of needing my iPod to keep me company as I watched the pack disappear into the distance. At one point, I charged up a small power climb, thinking that I was just keeping pace. Looking over my shoulder, the rest of the group was 50 yards behind. Now, normally, this is cause for alarm when I'm on a road I don't know. Why?

Flashback to a story from 15 years ago
It was race night in Provo, and the course that evening was from Springville, out around West Mountain, and back to Springville. Approaching the northest point of West Mountain, I managed to escape the peleton. Surprised that they let me go, I continued working my tail off to build a lead that I could sustain. Did I mention that I'd never ridden this route before? With a good 90 seconds in hand I looked ahead of me as I was riding down the west side of the mountain and saw a climb. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been any bad thing but a) I had just worked like crazy to build a lead, and b) well, there isn't a "b", but in any event, they caught me just over at the top of the climb and while I was able to stay with them the rest of the way that evening, ever since then, I've been very wary when a group lets me go like that..

So, I'm 50 yards clear on a road I don't know, and alarm bells should be going off, but they don't. Instead, I gave it more gas and found that sure enough, there was a climb ahead. That's okay, I replicated the story told above, climbing strongly enough to just get caught at the top of the climb and then staying with the group until John Rogers Drive...the climb that is usually my undoing on the Tuesday Night Pain Train. On the early part of JRD, my legs started to feel twitchy. I guess I was about 5th in the line at that point, and as the climb steepened, my legs decided that they didn't want to slow down with the group, so I shot out of the line and began sprinting up the hill. I had a good head of steam up and had just sat back down to work the rest of the climb up when DirtDog came flying up past me, so it was back to sprinting trying to get his wheel, but I couldn't do it. It was my one failure for the day. It says a lot that I even tried to catch him, because normally, I would have chuckled and settled into my own pace. I have no pride and I usually back off if the pain becomes too intense.

But this was no normal day.

Then, to make a great day even better, when I got home, I found that my wife hadn't in fact made it to the library with the kids, but instead of being miffed that I had been gone longer than I had said I would, she said it didn't matter and was glad that I'd had fun! How great is that?

The moral of this story? Training pays off and every once in a while you feel invincible. And what a great feeling that is!

The Power of Recovery

As I have thought back over the past 3 months of heavy training and long rides, one thing (that I don't think I've mentioned yet) has become clear with the 20/20 capabilities of hindsight.

That "thing" is the importance of recovery.

At my age (42) I can no longer go hard day after day endlessly. In fact, one or two hard rides a week is all I can muster. But I'm noticing that as I have gotten older, my ability to finish a hard ride and still have energy to work in the yard, or run errands with the wife, or goof around with the kids, has increased. It used to be that the wife would be frustrated because a hard ride meant I was useless for the rest of that day. Not so anymore!

I know what some of you are thinking, "man, that EPO is good stuff". But I'm not doping, except for the occasional foray into sodium phosphate loading (which ought to be illegal). No, my secret is that I make sure I'm taking time to recover properly between hard rides.

So, that's my tip for the day (which would be a profound thing if I was doing something like a "tip of the day" type blog, but I'm not, so it's just today's tip, with no expectation for further tips to follow, though they might anyway at some point.)

Now that you're thoroughly confused.

Catching Up

Well, it's true that it has been a while since my last article, but you'll forgive me when you know that I've been occupied at a family reunion. Yes, I did bring my survival kit (bicycle, helmet, shoes, and Hammer Gel), so I'm managing to enjoy myself to an unprecedented degree...to start, let me catch y'all up to date:

Tuesday Night Pain Train (06/27): Great ride, super legs...felt great the whole way 'round.

Wednesday night I was playing basketball with the young men from church. Doing my best imitation of Dennis Rodman (rebounding...not kicking cameramen or bad mouthing Mormons) the ball hit my hand and I felt and heard a nasty "POP" in the middle finger of my left hand. One would think that this wouldn't affect my ability to ride. I discovered differently on Friday as I found I use it to shift between my chainrings, put a great deal of pressure/strain on it while climbing out of the saddle, as well as releasing my rear brake closure cam when beginning a climb. I also use this finger in concert with it's brothers to remove and replace a water bottle for hydrating properly. The moral of this story is, be careful playing basketball with Scouts, because cycling involves all body parts, not just the parts you think are obvious.

So, onto the ride report...I just returned from Sevierville, Tennessee, immediately adjacent to Pigeon Forge (home of Dollywood) which sits between Sevierville and Gatlinburg (I don't think it's named after Larry or any of his brothers). Gatlinburg is on the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The GSMNP is unique in the National Park system because they are not allowed to charge admission. It has something to do with the way the deed was written when the park was created, but I think it probably has more to do with the fact that if they charged the standard $25 per carload to get between tourist traps #1 & #2 (Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg) and tourist trap #3 (Cherokee, NC) that the local economies of all three would suffer because thousands upon thousands of dollars per day would disappear into the dark recesses of the federal machine (on the other hand, perhaps the federal machine would use some of those dollars to install water fountains in the park). Or folks just wouldn't go back and forth, but the net effect would be the same.

Anyway, also unique to the GSMNP is that the second highest point east of the Mississippi river is found within its borders. This peak is Clingman's Dome, and is where I spent last Friday morning remembering why I love to ride my bicycle. I left our vacation home around 7:45am, and found myself whipping through patches of fog as I made my way south along the main road that runs through Sevierville, PF, and Gatlinburg. Once south of Pigeon Forge, the road becomes a divided 4 lane with a nice forest with a creek separating the two halves of the road. As I would many times later on the ride, I found myself wishing I had a camera with me.

I made my way through Gatlinburg, which can best be described as crowded and touristy, but a very charming little tourist trap never the less. Loads of character. And condos. And hotels. And time shares. And fudge shops.

As you leave Gatlinburg, you enter the National Park. I made a stop at the park welcome center to make certain that I was on the correct road, and found no help there as the girl who was impersonating a parks employee claimed she'd never heard of Clingman's Dome. "Hello...this is the biggest attraction in your park lady...get a clue!" Fortunately for me, there was a 3 dimensional model of the park and I was able to find that the road I was on was indeed the one which would deposit me at the highest point in the state of Tennessee.

So I went back outside and resumed riding. At this point, the climbing begins in earnest. (of course, "earnest" is a relative term, there's nothing too steep here) While I'd been gradually ascending for the past 5-6 miles already (at this point I had ~300 feet of climbing in), it is just inside the park boundary that the road really turns up. Now, I don't mean that it's steep, because it's not. I'd guess (without having downloaded my Polar data yet) that it averages 5-6%, with some shorter sections hitting 7-8% as you climb the switchbacks near Newfound Gap. The challenge here is that the climbing lasts for 22 miles. Plus the 5-6 miles outside the park. It's not a tough climb, and you can really move through some sections. There are a couple of tunnels that are a little scary due to the "riding in a dark tube with cars" thing. But this is a heavily shaded road, with lots of wildlife to see and thousands of rhododendron bushes to look at as you climb.

About 3 miles into the climb, I was passed by a caravan of family reunioners (my wife's cousins and uncles) who were driving to Newfound Gap to hike the Appalachian Trail section between that point that the top of Clingman's Dome. I made it my objective at that point to get there ahead of them.

I slowed down near some of the overlooks to check out the scenery. It's always a very cool thing to see the road that you've been riding waaaay off down below you somewhere, and I wasn't disappointed.

At Newfound Gap, you leave the main road and climb for another 7 miles to the observation tower at the highest point on Clingman's Dome. Except for a short 3/4 mile downhill on this part of the road, it's a steady climb from Gatlinburg to the top. It took me a touch over 2 hours to climb to the top, but I was riding into a headwind most of the way to the top. I also was taking time to really look around and enjoy the scenery, which is spectacular.

About 5 minutes after I arrived at the top, as I was searching for a water fountain to replenish my bottles, my wife showed up with a couple of kids and a cousin or two. She had dropped my son off farther down the mountain and he was riding up to meet us. So I kicked around for a while waiting until he arrived. Then we checked out the view from the observation tower, from which you could see Mt. Mitchell (highest point east of the Mississippi) about 50 miles east. Then we climbed on our bikes and headed down the mountain.

Now, if you've ever ridden in mountain canyons, you know that the temperature of the air in the mountains vs the temperature of the air in the valleys affects the direction the breeze is blowing. Remember I had said that I had a bit of a headwind for the climb. I wish I could say that it was a tailwind for the descent, but it was not. We had a headwind for the entire way back down the mountain, and still we managed to run at 35-40 mph the whole way. Despite the wind, it was a fun descent.

It was 43 miles from our lodging to the top of Clingman Dome. The first 20 miles of that was nearly flat, with only 300' of climbing. The next 20 miles climbs an additional ~5200 feet.

I'm already looking forward to my next chance to ride it.

The Best Riding Tunes

Ah the iPod. It has literally changed my training by turning those days that I dread into days that aren't so bad because I have some tunes in a tiny (iPod Nano) package, and lots of them. The larger iPods are too big for me to carry comfortably, I don't like to ride with my pockets stuffed, so my 60gb Video iPod is relegated to trips and the car, and non riding activities, like a spinning bike at the gym, where I like to watch the last 7 years of the Tour while I work out.

Anyway...this post is about my favorite riding music, not the players.

Riding music, for me, is categorized by what kind of riding I'm doing. Slow, easy tunes for slow, easy days, upbeat stuff for intervals...you get the idea. But probably the easiest category for me is climbing tunes. You know, the ones that get you in a rythm, and numb your brain so you don't notice the effort.

So, in the category of Climbing Tunes I nominate the following as all-time-greats: (note: lyrics are meaningless in this category...these are tunes that are solely for getting you up the mountain)

The Zoo, circa 1979/80 from the Scorpions Animal Magnetism album. This song simply puts down a heavy, steady, cut time beat that just makes you want to keep your cadence in time with it.

Moving In Stereo/All Mixed Up, The Cars, from the 1978 album The Cars. Another heavy steady beat. This one always feels like it's on the verge of cutting loose and running away. The tension between the actual beat and what it wants to do, keeps me driving hard on the climbs.

El Verano, Pablo Cruise's final song on side B of A Place In The Sun. No lyrics here, just an instrumental with lots of energy, and an interesting melody.

Beast Of Burden and Miss You, both classics from the Stones' Some Girls album from 1978. No more needs to be said.

The Show Must Go On. This Queen ode to perserverance is perfect for that climb that lets you pour on a little extra power.

Finally, Do You Feel Like We Do?. The live version, from 1976's Frampton Comes Alive. Sure the song is about alchohol, drugs and other "things", but I already said that lyrics don't matter. It's all about the song getting you to the top of the hill, and not many do it better than this one for me. Especially the steep climbs where the slightly slower beat helps keep the legs turning. It's also perfectly suited to alternating between seated and standing climbing.

Next up, the best Interval Songs, otherwise known as "songs to keep you alive while you're killing yourself".

A story about The Beast

I mentioned several posts ago that I would tell a story about Jeff that I love. So I decided I've got a few minutes to write it up and get it out here so that he can gripe when he sees it...

Several years ago, Jeff was into Mountain Bike Racing. He convinced several of his buddies (I was not one of them...This story comes to me via one of the victims) to enter a local race.

They lined them up at the start, 5 across. About 50 yards ahead of the start line, the course narrowed to a single track (only room for one rider at a time). Jeff's brain went into overdrive as he tried to figure out a way to make certain that he would get to the chute ahead of said buddies.

When the gun sounded, Jeff reached over, shoved gently on one buddy's shoulder, and knocked over the whole row like dominos, then took off, beating them to the hole.

I love that story. I don't know if it's because I believe it so aptly describes his ultra-competitive personality, or just that he gets so bent whenever I tell it.

Either way, it always makes me smile to think about it.

Don't Let It Get Away

Yeah, last night was the Tuesday night ride. I didn't do it.

Well, that's not entirely true. I did part of it. As I was riding, my hamstring started to feel a little sore. In an of itself, I'd probably have done the stupid thing and ridden through it, but, lightning and thunder were starting to increase in intensity around us, and I thought, "ahh, I'm just going to bag it for tonight". So I rode back to my car at the bike shop and went home.

Cherohala wore me out I guess, because on my ride into work this morning I wasn't feeling particularly frisky. I rode well, but just not feeling like I could go deep if I needed to.

I think I'll make this week a recovery week and take it easy...

I'm not sure what's up next. Kenny wants to compete in the Mountain Lakes Triathlon in August, and I've done that the past two years, so maybe I'll start back in the pool and running a little bit. On the other hand, those two activities don't sound so exciting to me. The BBC Century and the Huntville All-You-Can-Eat Century are on consecutive weekends in September. I'll probably do the Hunstville...I'm still undecided about the BBC...I'm not too wild about the course they are using now.

Oh well. I've got time to maintain fitness and decide what I'm going to do next. I just have to remember not to quit riding for 6 weeks like I did last year after Cherohala. I'm in pretty good shape right now...I don't want to let that get away from me.

Cherohala Report

What a great weekend!! On Friday, Cathy, Kenny, our friend Christopher (as opposed to our son Christopher) piled into the car and drove to Tennessee for the ride I've been anticipating for the past 6 months with alternating bouts of angst and excitement.

I watched the weather carefully and was thrilled to see that the forecast from 10 days out was holding and there was no rain expected on Friday, nor Saturday. The heat however was another story, that I'll get to in a few minutes.

Mea Culpa
First, I have to apologize to the residents of Tellico Plains, TN (all 6 of you) for insinuating that there's nothing to your town...this was the first time I spent any time at all actually in Tellico Plains aside from the ride start and finish, and I was surprised to find that over in a little hollow, behind some trees there are several blocks of an actual town.

Friday in Tennessee
We arrived and checked into our cabins Friday afternoon, then left to go to the reception area where the ride organizers had set up to hand out ride packets (water bottle, t-shirt, ride number, and prophetically, Bullfrog Sunscreen, along with some other swag such as stickers and tea). Not knowing exactly what to expect from the food part of this soiree, we were happy to find fruits and several types of bread, along with some dips. On the downside, if we had eaten enough to satisfy our appetites, there wouldn't have been enough left for any of the other 350 people showing up that evening. Luckily, we discovered an old (and I mean old) house that had been converted into a Pizzaria, where we had an absolutely delicious and enormous calzone. By this time Russ and his wife Katie had arrived and were having dinner with us, when Russ spotted a bottle of hot sauce for sale...he decided that this hot sauce was worthy of purchase because according to the label, this hot sauce was "Scorned Woman" I guess in order of sauce heat, you would go mild, medium, hot, nuclear, Scorned Woman.

The cabins were comfortable, and it was no fault of anyone but myself that I was awake at 3:30 a.m. and unable to fall back asleep. Mostly at this point it was angst, wishing I had put in more miles, more climbing and more speedwork. The usual second guessing that I'm prone to engage in, no matter how well prepared I am. Two previous rides of miserable agony had preconditioned me for what to expect.

When my iPod finally started playing Matchbox Twenty's Push at 5:30 a.m., it was still dark outside, but I was ready to go anyway. I took a few minutes to put some last minute flat repair kits together for Cathy and Kenny (who were also riding, albeit shorter distances). Russ and I loaded the bikes onto the cars and we all headed off to the Tellico Plains High School for the ride start.

The Details
Kenny and Christopher headed off 30 minutes ahead of the main pack to get as many mile in during the cool morning as possible. Russ and I
hooked up with Jeff Mills (who drove in from Tulsa, OK), Doug Daughetee, Dom Sutton, and Dan Watson from Birmingham and left with the other ~400 riders who showed up. (Cathy and Katie waited until the main group had gone, then left behind us to avoid the stress of riding in such a large group).

Now, the way this ride works is pretty similar each year. For the first two miles smaller groups form as riders settle into their pace and gel into groups of similarly minded riders, pace-wise. Then to further seperate the faster riders from those looking to just survive, the first uphill begins. It's not horribly long (1/2 mile), nor is it terribly steep (6-7%), but it does its job very well. It was on this hill that I made a grave tactical error...I went to the front of the group and hammered up this hill like it wasn't there. Cresting the top of the hill I looked back and saw Jeff Mills pounding up the hill after me and I realized my folly. I looked for Russ to apologize for the price we were about to pay for my stupidity (riding in front of Jeff), but he was dropped.

To his credit, he eventually chased back on, but by that time, I had abandoned the Jeff Mills/Dom Sutton/Doug Daughetee group and drifted back to the Dan Watson led peleton where Russ was just catching back on.

One thing I noticed is that the first 20 miles of this ride are 1) incredibly beautiful,
and 2)ridden at a very fast pace that doesn't feel like an effort at all. According to my HR monitor, the first 20 miles has nearly 1000 feet of climbing, but I rarely even noticed the uphill sections.

Arriving at the first rest stop, we saw Kenny and Christopher leaving, and the Mills/Daughetee/Sutton group pulled out about 2 mintues behind them. I looked around and didn't see Russ anywhere, and thought he had been finally well and truly dropped. When he rolled in a minute later, he explained that his chain had been dropped shifting on the last climb up to the stop.

We left 5 minutes later and after a few miles through the lakeside hills, we dropped down to the road that follows Lake Chilhowee up to Tabcat Creek, where the Tail of The Dragon begins. As we crossed the bridge over Tabcat Creek, I decided to push myself a bit (as it had been a pretty easy ride to that point), and cleared the 11 miles and 318 curves in 50 minutes (all but 2.5 of those 11 miles are climbing, the picture at the top of this article is of Kenny climbing in the T.o.t.D., showing both road curvature and slope).

After Rest Stop #2, which is at the top of the T.o.t.D., and straddles the Tennesee/North Carolina border, Cathy and Katie and Kenny and Christopher (Russ and I had ridden with them along the lake, but they fell behind on the first of the climbs) caught up to me as I was reloading water bottles. From here the road drops at a 12% grade for 3 miles and delivers you at the foot of the dam where Harrison Ford jumped in The Fugitive. Here the headwinds began and I was pretty much on my own at this point, with Russ feeling the full wrath of the Dragon through the 7 miles up Tapoco Canyon to the 3rd rest stop.

Leaving the stop, I crossed the road and entered the Joyce Kilmer Forest, winding my way along the shores of Lake Santeetlah, past Rattlesnake Ford campground (yeah, I'll be camping anywhere with the name "rattlesnake" in it..uh huh) and began the real climbing at mile 69. For the next 5.5 miles, I learned new lessons in pain and agony, with the temperature reaching 98 degrees, no shade at all, and several long sections of 9% grade. I ran out of water a mile from the rest stop at the 75 mile point, and when I finally dragged my carcass up there, I was dissappointed to find that they were out of ice, and had been long enough for the water to be warm. Cathy and Katie were waiting at this stop for me, and Kenny and Christopher were in the car as well. Russ was nowhere in sight, but I figured he'd do the smart thing and climb into a SAG truck for a ride to the top of the hill.

I struck out to finish the next 8 miles of climbing that would take me to the top of the Cherohala Skyway.



This part of the climb isn't as severe as the first 5 miles, but still reaches 8% for the final mile of the section. Luckily for me, some clouds moved in and the temperature dropped considerably. About 3 miles from the top I saw a SAG truck drive past with Russ' bike on the rack. A minute later, Cathy drove up behind me and Russ was in the van, having managed somehow to make it to the rest stop at 75 miles. That was impressive to me because I know how badly he was hurting before, and I know how badly the climb hurt me in the heat. I don't know how he did it, but he did.

At the top, I stopped quickly for a water bottle reload, Cathy wanted a picture or two, and then started the real fun...the last 32 miles, most of it downhill. The exctptions to that being about a dozen .5-1.2 mile long climbs strewn about down the mountain. The steepest of these is 8.1% and 3/4 mile long. The longest is 1.2 miles and is 5%. Naturally, each of these dozen climbs comes after a significant downhill section, so my legs where good and cold and those climbs felt like a kick in the teeth. Ouch!!

At the last rest stop, Kenny, Christopher and Russ decided they wanted in on the fun, so they joined me for the last 18 miles of the ride back into Tellico Plains.

Summing up
I finished the 115 miles in 7:34:00. That's nearly an hour faster than last year (I did it with a seperated shoulder and had to walk the steepest pitches) and 2003 (nasty cramping at mile 65 slowed me down badly on the climb). I felt really good on the climbing sections, rarely using my bail out 27 cog, and relying primarily on my 23 and 21 to keep my cadence comfortable (I like to pedal a little slower than Lance).

I was frustrated with my inattention to detail as I had filled several ziploc bags with Orange Heed, and several others with Blue Raspberry Accelerade. both powders are white and when I selected my bags for my pockets before the ride, I thought I had grabbed 3 of each. In reality I had taken 5 Accelerade and 1 Heed. I like variety with my hydration and at this point, if I never drink Raspberry Accelerade again, I'll be just fine.

My preparation turned out to be just fine. I actually lost time and left the group I was riding with when we came upon Kenny and Christopher riding along Lake Chilhowee. We dropped out of the group and rode with them, tacking 10 minutes onto my time for that leg compared to previous years. I also lost some time (7 minutes comparatively) in Tapoco Canyon, as the headwinds battered me about and I didn't have the shelter of a group this year to keep me fresh and the speed up. Again, my climbing felt great, though it hurt badly. As Greg Lemond once said, "it never hurts any less, you just go faster."

Cathy rode 10 miles (I am really careful not to overload her and make her hate riding, and that 10 miles was really hilly). It turns out she could have done more, but I played it safe.

Katie made the full 27 miles to the first rest stop. WOW! I'm impressed. She wasn't to thrilled with the 2 final climbs along the way, but hey, you take what the road gives you.

Kenny and Christopher had a goal of riding 50 miles to earn their Cycling merit badges. They rode 75. Kenny hasn't touched his bike in 4 months, so I thought his accomplishment was something of which he should be proud (though I wish he'd prepare better next time, he could be really really fast if he just put in the miles). Christopher did his mileage and was a horse at the end, pounding his fist on the table and dictating the pace through the final canyon, into another headwind that we never felt.

Russ made the first 75 miles, then did 18 more for a 93 total. Not bad at all, especially when he has a total of 700 miles on his bike this year, and hadn't ridden a single mile since our 80 miler two weeks ago.

As for me, I did better than just survive. I felt strong the whole way and only when the excessive heat on the early slopes of the Skyway did its best to demoralize me, did I wonder if I might not make it all the way.

The Cherohala Travelogue

On June 16, my wife, son, son's friend, and Russ and his wife will be traveling to the thriving rural hole in the road that is Tellico Plains, Tennessee. In reality, there is little more in this town than a high school, and a welcome center for the Cherohala Skyway and the campgrounds in the area. There is a gas station that sells pizza, but other than that, I have yet to see a restaurant of any kind within 15 miles of Tellico Plains.

Think "middle of nowhere" and you're still thinking too big.

On the other hand, one of the best bicycle events you can find in the eastern US begins at the Tellico Plains High School on Saturday morning, the Cherohala Challenge. I've done this ride twice previously, 2003, when I was prepared (somewhat), and 2005, when I was anything but ready.

This is a very scenic ride, and I've had a request to post some pictures that I had from the years I've done it, so...

From 2003, I'm third row, middle, red/white/green helmet...



2005, for 10 miles, the road leading to the foot of the Tail of the Dragon follows Lake Chillhowee. It's the flattest road anywhere, and the only flat road on this ride. This day the lake had a layer of "smoke" covering it, that on occasion you could see something tall sticking up through the clouds. It was really a cool thing to see.



From 2003, an overlook on the Dragon's Tail, looking back down the road.



From the same overlook, looking west at Calderwood Dam.



Again, the same overlook, Lake Calderwood to the east...




On the Skyway, my friend DirtDog (Dan) arrives at the rest stop halfway up the climb. Gradient is impossible to tell from a photograph, but the mile leading up to this rest stop never drops below 9%.



In 2003, leaving the rest stop mentioned above, and continuing to the RS at the top of the climb, a thunderstorm moved in when I was about 2 miles short of the summit. Rain, cold, lightning and wind all made those two miles very adventurous. When it cleared out, I continued down the hill and finished the ride.

So, having said all of this, the question is, why do we do these things? Is it because the more miserable the conditions and terrain, the better the stories are at the Cracker Barrel on the way home? Is it because as a cyclist, you have sworn an oath to punish yourself at every opportunity? My wife would be the first to tell you that none of this appeals to her in any way...not only that, how anyone could even begin to think it sounds fun is beyond her ability to understand. Yet thousands of cyclists beat themselves for hours at a time, in all kinds of conditions, all summer long, in events all over the world.

An old friend, from years ago, who was the first to get me interested in "cycling" as an organized activity summed it up best for me...When asked "why do you ride?", his answer was simple...

"...because it feels so good when you stop."

Amen.

One Step Forward...well, you know the rest

Once again, it's Wednesday, and that means it's time for a TNPT report. It started off pretty well, I felt strong. Ruffner was a 23 mph festival of 170+ heartrate (for 11 minutes), but I was at the front and was never in danger of being dropped.

Sadly, I can't say the same for John Rogers Drive (also known as "Dog Track"). I made the mistake of sprinting up to the stoplight just before the incline drops, and suddenly, I was right back where I was a few weeks ago, calling to the engine room for more power and coming up empty.

On a positive note, I rejoined the group at Karl Daly and Old Leeds Road, then finished strongly, even finishing 3rd in the sprint to the top of Old Leeds. But oh how the legs hurt!!

This week is a recovery week, and so I'm going to take it easy, do some light spinning and a couple of easy 30 milers to finish out the week.

I'm starting to like the Tarmac, but aside from the stiffness of the frame, (which at my age is debatable as to its "advantage"), the thing I really like is that I've yet to finish a ride of any length with a sore back. On my old Trek, any ride longer than 20 miles guaranteed that I'd have lower back soreness during the ride. It's all about position, and I'm just about sold on the concept of the compact geometry.

Now if I could just find a seat wide enough for my backside...

Once again...but slower this time

You know how it is. You come back from a ride that has kicked you all over the asphalt and left you for dead, and immediately begin planning a strategy for fairing better the next time. Well, maybe not "immediately", but as soon as the pain begins to fade.

Such was the case this past week, as I contemplated the fun I could have dishing out the pain to my riding partner, Russ, by dragging him around the Winnetaska loop that The Beast and I rode on Memorial Day. In fact, such was my desire to dish out a spanking that I didn't even climb on the bike after Tuesday, because I wanted my legs to be fresh.

Okay, I know, I really wasn't motivated by dishing out a lot of hurt, but I was motivated by wanting to feel stronger throughout the ride the second time around.

Friday night, the storms rolled in, and Russ and I spoke on the phone. Knowing that we would use bad weather as an excuse to skip riding in the morning, I checked weather.com to be certain that we would in fact, be riding in the dry.

I beat back my early morning self, hoping that his battle at Russ' would be just as fruitless, and managed to climb from bed and onto the bike.

Sure enough, only a few minutes past the appointed time, Russ appeared out of the early morning mist (or was that humidity?) for his first ride in 2 weeks.

The morning was beautiful, and cool. As we rode, we talked about all kinds of things, and I did my best to scare him about the upcoming Cherohala Challenge, two weeks from then. Another rider rolled along with us for about 10 miles then went a shorter way. I thought it was kind of sad to waste such a beautiful morning by only doing a short ride.

We rode out through Irondale, then down Cemetery Hill, up and over Jerry Springer Hill, then through beautiful downtown Leeds, Alabama, boyhood home to Charles Barkley. Note to Chuck...take a little of your cash home and spend it. Past Leeds and out around the northeast end of Karr, and Double Oak Mountains. Southwest to Sterret, then north to Vandiver where my empty stomach was making certain that I wasn't going to pass Watson's Grocery (nothing but a BP station with a drink cooler, but you've got to love how imaginative country folk can be when naming things) without stopping for a quick shot of chocolate milk and a refill for the water bottles.

After climbing back over Double Oak Mountain, then Coosa Mountain, I introduced Russ to Belmont. Easily the toughest hill he's climbed to date. It's just over a mile long, but has extended sections at 8% and more. Part way up Belmont, Russ announced that he'd had a spiritual epiphone, and now knew for a fact what Hell is.

Wow, this is rambling...anyway, back down Old Leeds Road, through Mountain Brook, up Smyer and across Shades Crest back to home. 83 miles in 5:15 of riding time. 6 hours when you count all the times we stopped because Russ (a pediatrician) was on call this weekend and his pager kept going off.

But the whole point of this story is that we went slower than I did with Jeff on Monday, but not a lot. Just 1 mph average. But the difference in how my legs felt, and the energy I had at the end of the ride was remarkable. I felt like I could easily have done the whole ride again. Was it the slower pace? Or was it that I had done the distance once already that week? I'm guessing pace, because if anything, having done it already would have had a tiring effect.

Having just finished my biggest week (mileage wise) in several years, at 197 miles, I feel great! My big ride is coming up in less than two weeks, and I think I'm finally ready. I'll taper some this week, keep the rides shorter, but at higher intensity, and then do the same to a greater degree next week.

It's gonna be fun.

The Day After...

Early yesterday morning, I woke up with my legs feeling all kinds of ache from Monday's long, hot, slog through the late spring humidity of Birmingham, and decided that I would forego the Tuesday night Pain Train.

At some point during the day however, my legs started to feel less pain, and I thought it might be a good idea to test them out by changing my mind. So I went home, climbed on my bike and rode like crazy to get to the start in time to join the folks who, I learned later, knowing that they had TNPT coming, had the good sense to stay inside their air conditioned homes (and trailers...this is the south) on Monday Or in the case of a few, if they ventured out, only spent a couple of hours in the saddle (instead of 4:40).

As you can imagine this makes the score;

Smart People: 1
Stupid Person (Me): 0

before we even left the parking lot. Sure as a cowpoke chases a chuckwagon, as soon as the first hill (a small one, mind you) came along, my legs had a quick meeting and decided to stage a coup d' etat. I decided that the best way to quell the rebellion was to assure them that the pain would be temporary, so I hurried to the front of the pack as quickly as I could go, and promptly slowed the pace down to a reasonably less punishing tempo. Unfortunately, this could only last as long as I could bluff the group into thinking that I had their best interests at heart, but I managed admirably for a couple of miles. Finally I was unceremoniously booted from the head of the peleton by means of the peleton winding it up and spitting me out the back like a chewed sunflower seed husk.

So I meandered my way up to Old Leeds Road and went home, via Smyer and Shades Crest. Still, a small victory could be found in the very act of getting mounted up and trying to ride...a year ago I would have taken week off to recover from Monday's ride.

That reminds me of my favorite story about the Beast, but I'll have to save it for another day.

Where's that cool weather?

6:00 this morning, Jeff Mills, (aka "the Beast") and I mounted up and headed out. We decided to go east, out to Winnetaska, then Vandiver and back. It started out okay, I'm still getting used to the Tarmac (3rd ride on it, by far the longest), and I'm feeling a little scrunched up on the bike, compared to the La-Z-Boy position I enjoyed for 6 years on my Trek, nice and stretched out. So I've got muscles hurting that I've never really had a need to use before now. I'm sure that'll all work out as I make the finer adjustments to my position on the bike though.

The Winnetaska ride has 6300 feet of climbing in 80 miles, nearly all of that after mile 40 (which is nearly exactly what Cherohala does), though it rolls pretty hard for the first 40 as well. The major climbs (in Birmingham that means more than 1 mile long, and around 6-8%) are Vandiver South, Dunavant, Zeigler, Grants Mill, Belmont, and Smyer.

As we were nearing the top of Belmont, where it ends into Old Leeds road, we saw a couple of riders heading the direction we would be going. By the time we got to the top, they were a quarter mile ahead, but Jeff was intent on catching them, so off we went, 24, 25, 26 mph chasing as though our lives depended on it. When we did catch them, they said they knew we were coming and tried to hold us off, but couldn't do it. I was just happy that with 65 mile and several thousand feet of climbing in my legs, I was able to suck Jeff's wheel at those speeds.

So we finished strongly, but it was HOT. I mean, at 9:00 my computer said it was 92 degrees. I drank 5 full water bottles (24oz each) and still weighed 3 pounds less than when I started.

All in all, a good ride. Nothing profound to say, just had a good hard ride. I was happy with my effort and my results.

The Test

Tomorrow will be the big test prior to Cherohala. And I'm a little bit nervous. The Beast is in town for a friend's event and we'll be riding in the morning. We haven't decided yet whether we'll ride out to West Blocton, or east, out to Camp Winnetaska. Either way, there's loads of climbing in the 80 miles we'll cover. But surprisingly, it isn't the climbing that has me worried. It's the distance and the heat. A few weeks ago, I was complaining about how cold it was. Well, the climate is taking its revenge, and the temps are in the 90's now. Toss in the fact that my longest ride of the year thus far was 65 miles, and that was a month ago, and I'm afraid I'm going to be dying tomorrow.

On the other hand, I've got to get a long ride under my belt. Cherohala is 115 miles and 9-10K feet of climbing. I've been putting in large miles over the course of the weeks, but not very many long rides. Time just doesn't permit me to spend 5-6 hours every Saturday on my bicycle, as much as I'd love to.

Some of my friends in the club have trouble understanding how you can justify not riding a century every weekend, and 50 mile rides a couple times during the week. Of course, they don't have kids, or church responsibilities, or (in the case of a couple) jobs.

So, one way or the other, I'll be back tomorrow night (after I paint the living room, after my ride) and let y'all know how it went.

Climb Ev'ry Mountain

In this month's issue of Bicycling Magazine (yeah, yeah, I know) they had an article listing the favorite hometown rides of several American pros, Chris Horner, Levi Liephiemer, David Zabriskie, George Hincapie and Floyd Landis (I've ridden Horner's, Landis' and Zabriskie's favorites, I think that's cool). That got me to thinking, what is my favorite ride?

There's no easy answer. It depends largely on where I am, and what I feel like doing, but one thing all my favorite rides have in common is climbing. Not that I'm a great climber after 18 years of marriage, but it's hard to imagine a great ride without any climbing.

The Alpine Loop, with a trip up Squaw Peak is probably my all time favorite, but I live 1800 miles from there, so I get to ride it at most, once or twice every couple of years. The trip up Big Cottonwood Canyon to Guardsman Pass and back down is a lot of fun, and Floyd Landis' favorite, Palomar Mountain (in the San Diego area), is near the top of my list as well. Another thing these rides have in common is that the climbs are all twisty and turny. Lots of hairpins, and switchbacks to break up the monotony. That may be one reason why I like the Tail of the Dragon and the Cherohala Skyway so much.

In this area though, long climbs are rare. The longest around that is uninterrupted is the 3 mile climb to the top of Mt. Cheaha, 100 miles from my home. Most of our climbs are 1-2 miles in length, but are steeper than those out west, so they're not quite as much fun. Smyer twists and turns its way up Shades Mountain for nearly 2 miles, and is probably my favorite hill in Birmingham, just for the forested 1930's feel of the moss covered rock walls that line the road, and the trees overhanging the road to create a tunnel of shade the whole way up.

In short, the best rides usually have great climbs somewhere on the route. Cathy struggles to understand this philosophy, but hills are challenges, and there's satisfaction in getting over that challenge.

As much complaining as 90% of the people on bikes do about climbing hills, riding without hills would be boring. And we all know it.

This is my resolution to stop complaining when my ride partner says (after climbing to the top of the Alpine Loop, and descending) "hey, that was a lot of fun, let's do it again". And again, and again, and again...

Painful workouts = great workouts! Usually.

Another Tuesday, another night of excruciating pain! This week though, I felt my hard miles of the past 8 weeks come through for me, as I revved my HR up into the 182-183 range for the first time in a while. Several riders in the group did Mt. Mitchell on Saturday, but it didn't seem to slow them down at all tonight.

All told, 6 and a half minutes in zone 5c (fully anaerobic, max effort and HR), 11 minutes in 5b, 14 minutes in 5a, and 30 minutes at LTHR. All in all, it was a great workout. After putting in the base miles, it's easy to see why those easy miles are so important. A few weeks ago, I was gasping and wheezing to stay on over the top of the relatively easy John Rogers Drive, getting gapped in fact, but the HR wouldn't climb to match the effort. Tonight, it was a tough effort, but the HR went right up into the red zone and I still had power coming from the engine room. It was a good feeling.

For 2 months now, I've been laying the foundation, now I'm working on speed. I even decided to ride Lakeshore with the group (usually I turn off and go back a different way because Lakeshore=bedlam), sprinting from stoplight to stoplight, hitting 30-32 mph, then holding the wheel in front of you for all you're worth until the next light forces the pace down momentarily, then sprint like crazy to get the speed back up. It's not a lot of fun, but I felt like I needed to do it this week. Average speed at the end of the ride...20.1 mph, including the 15 minutes of warm-up and 10 of cool-down.

And have you ever noticed how, early in a ride, there's always a point at which it becomes extraordinarily painful to maintain the pace, usually a hill, or an acceleration, that forces a decision...ride through the pain, knowing that your legs will loosen up and it'll be okay, or take it easy, slide out the back of the group and feel like a wimp.

But at least your legs don't hurt. Right?

Recovery week, or just lazy?

So this week is supposed to be a recovery week in my periodized training program. Despite this, I decided to show up for the Tuesday night Pain Train. 15 minutes into the ride, it started to sprinkle a little bit, I looked where we were headed and the skies were black. Recalling the soggy lightning "enhanced" ride from last week, I quickly decided to stick to my training plan and turned for home, taking it easy except for the climb up Smyer where I gave a good effort. I still got 25 miles in today, so it wasn't a complete loss.

It was a good day. I enjoyed my riding today, and when it's all said and done, isn't that what really counts?

I mean, if you're not going to enjoy the pain as much as the easy rides, why bother?