...That was the theory, anyway. The astute reader, possessing even the most cursory knowledge of Pittsburgh's Dirty Dozen, can probably guess how that turned out.
Myself, Scott, and Alan rode out from the Vault at the positively luxurious hour of 7:30 AM. We headed out along California through Bellevue, Avalon, and Emsworth (changing street names every three blocks or so), then picked up Rt 65 to Sewickley. I suppose we could have done the traditional route via McKees Rocks, Neville Island, and Coraopolis, but the McKees Rocks Bridge is closing in a few days anyway, so we might as well get used to alternate routes to that part of the world.
In Ambridge, we picked up the Red Belt and pushed our way out to Tarentum, then back towards town via Freeport Rd. Nice ride; average speed over 17 mph for the first 60 miles, which is a darn good pace for me (I tend more towards the "let's do 14-15 for the next 200 miles" school of ride pacing.) In Aspinwall, we hung the ralph on Center. I rapidly discovered that, yes Virginia, riding a spirited 65 miles first makes Center hurt a Whole Lot Worse than usual. I took it with my usual utter lack of aplomb, dropping into my bottom gear and creeping up the hill in nicely gastropodial (sic?) fashion. The usual *ahem* rollers *ahem* on the way to the plummet into Sharpsburg were also a bit painful...
In Sharpsburg, we paused to rehydrate at the Quicky-Mart clone on 4th. We ended up spending a few minutes assisting a gentleman named Dean, whose mountain bike was decidedly squishy in the rear-tire regions. Dean lacked tools and expertise, so we took the opportunity to dispense patch kits and tire-changing wisdom in roughly equal measure. Then, off to Ravine for another joyous ascent. Scott and Alan rapidly became dots on the hill in my star-spangled peripheral vision; I, on the other hand, decided to shoot for bare survival and a more *ahem* leisurely *ahem* cadence.
Appropriately enough, I chose to bury my plans for two more hills when I reached the cemetary at the top of the climb. It was hurting enough that, frankly, I doubted my ability to complete Berryhill and High without potentially doing damage to myself that would affect the impending 600K this coming weekend. Alan and Scott, strangely enough, didn't seem to mind the idea of skipping the last two hills in the least.
Scott set off for home; I took Alan down to at least see Berryhill and High, on the way back to town to meet the family for the Three Rivers Arts Festival.
Showing posts with label Dirty Dozen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dirty Dozen. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Hiatus. H-I-A-T-U-S. Hiatus.
It's been a while since blogging hath occurred; not for any particularly exciting reasons, but merely due to vast quantities of slack on my part. In no particular order, here's the highlights of the last month.
Dirty Dozen: That was FUN with a capital OOF. I made twelve of the thirteen; Canton is still to be surmounted, however. (I don't feel too bad about the big C; the first time, another rider hit the ground in front of me; the second and third attempts, my cleat popped out of the pedal; and the fourth and final attempt, well, I wimped out. How's THAT for justification?) It was quite an experience; I managed to maintain the "I'm having a great time on this social ride" face for about the first six hills, which was far longer than I'd anticipated. I wasn't fast by any stretch of the imagination (Took 4th on the Liberty Tube sprint, though!), but wasn't exactly trailing the pack either. I'll do it again...good times indeed.
Commuting: Thus far, I've driven to work a whopping two whole times, counting my first day. I've pedaled through some fairly crappy weather; pretty much everything short of a full white-out blizzard or a serious ice storm. I like this commuting thing; although it's only been three months, and there's still a lot of winter ahead, I'm feeling good about it.
Solstice Century: Ended up being a solstice 45-miler, as I was riding the Baron, and started having a bit of knee trouble. I need to spend some time dialing the Baron in a bit more; it's a fun ride, but I haven't yet taken it for a ride of any real length.
2009? Plans for the future year will be forthcoming shortly, once I actually make the time to formalize some. The Endless Mountains 1240K in September will probably be the high point, at least as regards cycling. The arrival of my baby girl in April kinda trumps that overall ;-)
Dirty Dozen: That was FUN with a capital OOF. I made twelve of the thirteen; Canton is still to be surmounted, however. (I don't feel too bad about the big C; the first time, another rider hit the ground in front of me; the second and third attempts, my cleat popped out of the pedal; and the fourth and final attempt, well, I wimped out. How's THAT for justification?) It was quite an experience; I managed to maintain the "I'm having a great time on this social ride" face for about the first six hills, which was far longer than I'd anticipated. I wasn't fast by any stretch of the imagination (Took 4th on the Liberty Tube sprint, though!), but wasn't exactly trailing the pack either. I'll do it again...good times indeed.
Commuting: Thus far, I've driven to work a whopping two whole times, counting my first day. I've pedaled through some fairly crappy weather; pretty much everything short of a full white-out blizzard or a serious ice storm. I like this commuting thing; although it's only been three months, and there's still a lot of winter ahead, I'm feeling good about it.
Solstice Century: Ended up being a solstice 45-miler, as I was riding the Baron, and started having a bit of knee trouble. I need to spend some time dialing the Baron in a bit more; it's a fun ride, but I haven't yet taken it for a ride of any real length.
2009? Plans for the future year will be forthcoming shortly, once I actually make the time to formalize some. The Endless Mountains 1240K in September will probably be the high point, at least as regards cycling. The arrival of my baby girl in April kinda trumps that overall ;-)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
(Last?) Dirty Dozen training ride
A nice, relatively mellow ride. Simple plan; ride hills until I got sick of them. No minimum, no maximum; the only plan was to start at the beginning and see how far I go.
As a preliminary step, I peeled most of the non-essential stuff off of the P-38. Fenders, kickstand, rack, etc...all gone the way of the dodo. I kept the two bottle cages, and a seat-back bag for sundries like tubes and tools, but that's about it.
Met up with David at Center, and started the run. Center was entirely uneventful. Ravine is still closed, but has enough room for single-file cyclists to meander up the hill. Amusingly enough, there's also a screw jack engaged across the path; I was low enough to not care, but most of the upright folks will need to duck their heads to make it through. I shudder to think of how many of the eager types will stress-test their helmets on the steel bar. On the bright side, the construction changed the appearance of Ravine enough that my usual psychological barrier to climbing that hill was circumvented; it was a "new hill", so not nearly as intimidating.
Berryhill was particularly anticlimactic; it just doesn't seem like a big deal anymore. Logan was rough, as usual, but I made it to the top with only a few cars brushing by within a foot of my elbow. Due to my dislike of heading down Rialto, and David's desire not to go too far out of the way, we skipped Rialto and Suffering-Hellish-Burning in favor of going directly to Sycamore. At that point, it became apparent that, strangely enough, the sun was going to go down in another hour or two, so we chose to do Welsh, then call it a day, as neither of us were clever enough to bring lights.
All in all, not bad. Seven of the thirteen was a reasonable achievement, especially as, while certainly not feeling fresh after Welsh, I wasn't feeling too bad either. If it weren't for lighting concerns, I'm quite confident that BHE and Flowers-Tesla would have been more-or-less a stroll in the park.
I'm still concerned about my ability to do Canton and Boustead at all, as that 30%-ish grade seems to be the magic number where I start to really have problems; however, we'll just have to wait for next Saturday (forecast: rain/snow, high in the mid-30s F...heheheheh!) and see what happens.
As a preliminary step, I peeled most of the non-essential stuff off of the P-38. Fenders, kickstand, rack, etc...all gone the way of the dodo. I kept the two bottle cages, and a seat-back bag for sundries like tubes and tools, but that's about it.
Met up with David at Center, and started the run. Center was entirely uneventful. Ravine is still closed, but has enough room for single-file cyclists to meander up the hill. Amusingly enough, there's also a screw jack engaged across the path; I was low enough to not care, but most of the upright folks will need to duck their heads to make it through. I shudder to think of how many of the eager types will stress-test their helmets on the steel bar. On the bright side, the construction changed the appearance of Ravine enough that my usual psychological barrier to climbing that hill was circumvented; it was a "new hill", so not nearly as intimidating.
Berryhill was particularly anticlimactic; it just doesn't seem like a big deal anymore. Logan was rough, as usual, but I made it to the top with only a few cars brushing by within a foot of my elbow. Due to my dislike of heading down Rialto, and David's desire not to go too far out of the way, we skipped Rialto and Suffering-Hellish-Burning in favor of going directly to Sycamore. At that point, it became apparent that, strangely enough, the sun was going to go down in another hour or two, so we chose to do Welsh, then call it a day, as neither of us were clever enough to bring lights.
All in all, not bad. Seven of the thirteen was a reasonable achievement, especially as, while certainly not feeling fresh after Welsh, I wasn't feeling too bad either. If it weren't for lighting concerns, I'm quite confident that BHE and Flowers-Tesla would have been more-or-less a stroll in the park.
I'm still concerned about my ability to do Canton and Boustead at all, as that 30%-ish grade seems to be the magic number where I start to really have problems; however, we'll just have to wait for next Saturday (forecast: rain/snow, high in the mid-30s F...heheheheh!) and see what happens.
Monday, November 17, 2008
New job, commuting, the Dirty Dozen, and suchlike.
As of October 6th, I've been employed at DynaVox, a nice little company on the South Side that makes various and sundry products to assist people with various communication difficulties. It's been a bit of an adjustment, considering that I was with McKesson for darn near a decade, but I'm pretty happy with what I'm doing now.
More importantly, at least from the pedal-powered perspective, is that my new office is a measly 8 miles from my house. That, plus no laptop, means daily commuting is now so simple as to be practically unavoidable. It's quite nice to be able to either commute by bike or work from home five days per week; it's even nicer to realize that I'm filling up the tank on ye olde Subaru about once every six weeks or thereabouts, rather than once a week or more.
Commuting has been a bit of a learning process; for example, it took me a few days to realize that sweat was okay, and that bike shorts in the office, while a bit of a bold fashion statement, would not be grounds for termination or merciless mockery. The highlights of my day now include the befuddled gaze of passers-by when I cruise by on the 'bent, with steaming coffee mug raised to lips and a look of almost indecent contentment on my face; the cheers of approval (or so I choose to interpret them) from the colorful characters hanging out behind the Salvation Army; and the joy of comfortably keeping pace with (or, not infrequently, outpacing) traffic on the Boulevard of the Allies on the way home. Not that I mean to wax overtly rhapsodic or anything; it's just such a pleasant change in my life, and I haven't really grown accustomed to it yet.
I've also been fortunate, in that I've now got a nice bunch of folks in the area for potential lunchtime riding partners, some of whom not only are crazed enough to agree that it's a good idea to ride three or four Dirty Dozen hills over lunch, but are also patient enough to wait for me to haul my flabby carcass up the slopes in their wake. Thanks, Brian, Robbie, Dave, etc...
Speaking of such things, Dirty Dozen training proceeds apace. I'm not sure if I'll be able to take Canton or not, as I've been utterly incapable on the Rocket, and the P-38 barely made it a third of the way at last attempt. Regardless, I'm feeling pretty good about it; been riding the hillz at least twice a week for the last month, and, while I'm still slower than a wide gamut of very slow things, I'm happy with my progress. I'll give it a shot; since points are so far beyond my reach as to reside in the realm of wildest fantasy, there's really no pressure whatsoever. I get to go out, have fun, push myself a wee bit, and hopefully demonstrate that recumbents aren't solely bound to rail-trails and velodromes.
Ah, yes. Almost forgot. Wintry crapola has officially descended, so the commute is becoming more interesting. I threw a set of Schwalbe Marathon Winters on the Rocket; they're heavy, and sound like they're rolling on a perpetual trail of Rice Krispies, but I have this unfounded hope that they'll help keep me moving in a more-or-less controlled fashion when the weather turns to utter frozen shite. Nice tires, from what I can tell on short acquaintance. They handle much like the stock Marathons, with the addition of a bit of buzz from the carbide spikes. Mine are in the 42-406 size, so are quite beefy; like most Schwalbe models, they're available in a ridiculous number of sizes and diameters, including a 35-622 that looks just spiffy for commuters on 700c wheels. If and when I set myself up with an upright all-rounder, I'll probably invest in a set of Marathon Winters for that as well, assuming that these hold up well enough to vaguely justify the ludicrously high price tag.
More importantly, at least from the pedal-powered perspective, is that my new office is a measly 8 miles from my house. That, plus no laptop, means daily commuting is now so simple as to be practically unavoidable. It's quite nice to be able to either commute by bike or work from home five days per week; it's even nicer to realize that I'm filling up the tank on ye olde Subaru about once every six weeks or thereabouts, rather than once a week or more.
Commuting has been a bit of a learning process; for example, it took me a few days to realize that sweat was okay, and that bike shorts in the office, while a bit of a bold fashion statement, would not be grounds for termination or merciless mockery. The highlights of my day now include the befuddled gaze of passers-by when I cruise by on the 'bent, with steaming coffee mug raised to lips and a look of almost indecent contentment on my face; the cheers of approval (or so I choose to interpret them) from the colorful characters hanging out behind the Salvation Army; and the joy of comfortably keeping pace with (or, not infrequently, outpacing) traffic on the Boulevard of the Allies on the way home. Not that I mean to wax overtly rhapsodic or anything; it's just such a pleasant change in my life, and I haven't really grown accustomed to it yet.
I've also been fortunate, in that I've now got a nice bunch of folks in the area for potential lunchtime riding partners, some of whom not only are crazed enough to agree that it's a good idea to ride three or four Dirty Dozen hills over lunch, but are also patient enough to wait for me to haul my flabby carcass up the slopes in their wake. Thanks, Brian, Robbie, Dave, etc...
Speaking of such things, Dirty Dozen training proceeds apace. I'm not sure if I'll be able to take Canton or not, as I've been utterly incapable on the Rocket, and the P-38 barely made it a third of the way at last attempt. Regardless, I'm feeling pretty good about it; been riding the hillz at least twice a week for the last month, and, while I'm still slower than a wide gamut of very slow things, I'm happy with my progress. I'll give it a shot; since points are so far beyond my reach as to reside in the realm of wildest fantasy, there's really no pressure whatsoever. I get to go out, have fun, push myself a wee bit, and hopefully demonstrate that recumbents aren't solely bound to rail-trails and velodromes.
Ah, yes. Almost forgot. Wintry crapola has officially descended, so the commute is becoming more interesting. I threw a set of Schwalbe Marathon Winters on the Rocket; they're heavy, and sound like they're rolling on a perpetual trail of Rice Krispies, but I have this unfounded hope that they'll help keep me moving in a more-or-less controlled fashion when the weather turns to utter frozen shite. Nice tires, from what I can tell on short acquaintance. They handle much like the stock Marathons, with the addition of a bit of buzz from the carbide spikes. Mine are in the 42-406 size, so are quite beefy; like most Schwalbe models, they're available in a ridiculous number of sizes and diameters, including a 35-622 that looks just spiffy for commuters on 700c wheels. If and when I set myself up with an upright all-rounder, I'll probably invest in a set of Marathon Winters for that as well, assuming that these hold up well enough to vaguely justify the ludicrously high price tag.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Lunchtime DD rides: Sycamore, Welsh, Barry-Holt-Eleanor
Quick (ok, not so much) Dirty Dozen hill ride with Brian and Robbie. Aside from an early flat on Brian's part, it went pretty well.
Sycamore was, well, Sycamore. Nothing exciting there. Welsh was short and sweet; 20 seconds of "I feel okay, this is no big deal", followed by 10 seconds of "this sucks", followed by 20 seconds of "I'm gonna puke".
I blew up on Eleanor, up near the top at Primrose; had to pull off to the side to get enough speed to get moving again. 'Saright...I'll just have to redeem myself on Sunday.
Sycamore was, well, Sycamore. Nothing exciting there. Welsh was short and sweet; 20 seconds of "I feel okay, this is no big deal", followed by 10 seconds of "this sucks", followed by 20 seconds of "I'm gonna puke".
I blew up on Eleanor, up near the top at Primrose; had to pull off to the side to get enough speed to get moving again. 'Saright...I'll just have to redeem myself on Sunday.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Redemption, DD-style
Led another Dirty Dozen training ride today; Rialto, Logan, Suffolk-Hazelton-Burgess, and Sycamore. This time, I failed to fail: although I didn't exactly lead the pack up every hill, I was only dead last on one (Sycamore?!? The EASIEST?!?), and didn't feel like I was going to/wanted to die for more than a minute or two.
Eight riders showed up at the Jail Trail in town; myself, Jim Logan, Guido, Mark and his teenage son (AKA 100 pounds of hill-climbing monster), Don, Brian, and another gentleman whose name I've shamefully forgotten. We cut through town over to 31st St Bridge, then pounded up Rialto as our warm-up hill. Heh. I threw caution to the winds, invoked granny, and just attacked the crap out of that hill. As a result, I was in the first 4 up the hill...kind of a cool feeling not to be last for a change. On the down side, if that hill had been 100 feet longer, I may well have blown myself up, since I was really sucking wind by the top. But hey, it went okay, and I recovered quickly.
From the top of Rialto, we circled around to the top of Logan, then gingerly descended. (As a side note, I've decided to do something about my brakes; I'm just not confident in their ability to stop me when I NEED to stop.) Turning around at the bottom, we began the ascent. I was in my zone, happily pumping along at *mumble* miles per hour, when Guido hit the ground jut ahead of me, less than 100 feet from the top. I could have gone around and kept going, 'cause I HAD that hill, but decided to stop and render assistance as necessary. I feel no guilt over claiming victory on that climb; even if not technically a true DD success, I've beat that hill before, and could have done so again today. Now, I won't try to pretend that taking a break for a few minutes didn't feel really, really nice...
From there, we took Pittview back through Troy Hill, then down to Chestnut and over to East St. A quick glide up East to the left on Suffolk, and "my problems, they were just beginning". Suffolk-Hazellton-Burgess is one of those hills where I almost beat myself before even getting started; I've built it up in my mind so much that defeat seems almost inevitable. Fortunately, I'm a pretty stubborn rider; all that long steady distance this year, if nothing else, has taught me to just keep turning the pedals over. Sometimes at 35 RPM, but still turning them over...
Regardless, I pushed through, and avoided A) stopping, 2) puking and III) rain-of-brimstone-inducing blasphemy. To be fair to myself, I did a LOT better this year than last; last year darn near killed me, while this year was merely pretty frickin' tough. At this rate, I'll be within striking distance of "not sucking" in another decade or so.
Sycamore was not all that much of a much; I didn't put my heart into it, so finished a good 30 seconds behind everyone else. No biggie; Sycamore, much like High St, has become "just another long hill" in my mind.
All in all, I'm pleased. Coming off three weeks of a chest cold, and being a good 30-40 pounds over where I should be, and I can still survive the steeps. Of course, a willingness to go r-e-a-l-l-y slow helps, as does a mountain cassette.
Eight riders showed up at the Jail Trail in town; myself, Jim Logan, Guido, Mark and his teenage son (AKA 100 pounds of hill-climbing monster), Don, Brian, and another gentleman whose name I've shamefully forgotten. We cut through town over to 31st St Bridge, then pounded up Rialto as our warm-up hill. Heh. I threw caution to the winds, invoked granny, and just attacked the crap out of that hill. As a result, I was in the first 4 up the hill...kind of a cool feeling not to be last for a change. On the down side, if that hill had been 100 feet longer, I may well have blown myself up, since I was really sucking wind by the top. But hey, it went okay, and I recovered quickly.
From the top of Rialto, we circled around to the top of Logan, then gingerly descended. (As a side note, I've decided to do something about my brakes; I'm just not confident in their ability to stop me when I NEED to stop.) Turning around at the bottom, we began the ascent. I was in my zone, happily pumping along at *mumble* miles per hour, when Guido hit the ground jut ahead of me, less than 100 feet from the top. I could have gone around and kept going, 'cause I HAD that hill, but decided to stop and render assistance as necessary. I feel no guilt over claiming victory on that climb; even if not technically a true DD success, I've beat that hill before, and could have done so again today. Now, I won't try to pretend that taking a break for a few minutes didn't feel really, really nice...
From there, we took Pittview back through Troy Hill, then down to Chestnut and over to East St. A quick glide up East to the left on Suffolk, and "my problems, they were just beginning". Suffolk-Hazellton-Burgess is one of those hills where I almost beat myself before even getting started; I've built it up in my mind so much that defeat seems almost inevitable. Fortunately, I'm a pretty stubborn rider; all that long steady distance this year, if nothing else, has taught me to just keep turning the pedals over. Sometimes at 35 RPM, but still turning them over...
Regardless, I pushed through, and avoided A) stopping, 2) puking and III) rain-of-brimstone-inducing blasphemy. To be fair to myself, I did a LOT better this year than last; last year darn near killed me, while this year was merely pretty frickin' tough. At this rate, I'll be within striking distance of "not sucking" in another decade or so.
Sycamore was not all that much of a much; I didn't put my heart into it, so finished a good 30 seconds behind everyone else. No biggie; Sycamore, much like High St, has become "just another long hill" in my mind.
All in all, I'm pleased. Coming off three weeks of a chest cold, and being a good 30-40 pounds over where I should be, and I can still survive the steeps. Of course, a willingness to go r-e-a-l-l-y slow helps, as does a mountain cassette.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
DD training ride FAIL
[Backdated, 'cause I've been slacking in my postings]
So, due to scheduling pressure and being a frickin' moron, I ended up committing to lead a Dirty Dozen training ride, for the first four hills, the day after riding a 200K populaire. Yeesh. What a maroon.
Long story short, I barely made it up Center, and gratefully handed off ride leader duties to Fred Klehm. The fatigue from the prior day's ride was, surprisingly, not a real factor; the vicious cough and fever, on the other hand, were less than helpful. Regardless of the excuses, the end result was that I wussed out big time.
I feebly wobbled my way up Parker over to Millvale, then hung out at the BP for a while, nursing coffee and waiting for medication to take effect. That was fun. :-(
On a related note, I'm a little disturbed by a recent trend in ride failures; I've bailed on three in the last two weeks, when I normally don't bail under any circumstances short of family emergency. I'm not sure why, but it seems much easier to find reasons not to ride hard right now. Perhaps I'm a little burnt out, after the rando season.
So, due to scheduling pressure and being a frickin' moron, I ended up committing to lead a Dirty Dozen training ride, for the first four hills, the day after riding a 200K populaire. Yeesh. What a maroon.
Long story short, I barely made it up Center, and gratefully handed off ride leader duties to Fred Klehm. The fatigue from the prior day's ride was, surprisingly, not a real factor; the vicious cough and fever, on the other hand, were less than helpful. Regardless of the excuses, the end result was that I wussed out big time.
I feebly wobbled my way up Parker over to Millvale, then hung out at the BP for a while, nursing coffee and waiting for medication to take effect. That was fun. :-(
On a related note, I'm a little disturbed by a recent trend in ride failures; I've bailed on three in the last two weeks, when I normally don't bail under any circumstances short of family emergency. I'm not sure why, but it seems much easier to find reasons not to ride hard right now. Perhaps I'm a little burnt out, after the rando season.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Well, bugger. Rando FAIL.
I had planned to scout the route for the Thrift Drug Classic 200K Populaire; after all, since I designed much of the route, it seemed only fair that I make sure it's not an utter deathtrap, and that the cues aren't completely hosed.
So, I set off this morning at about 7:45 or so, enjoying the traditional randonneuring combination of drizzle and high 40s temperature. Did I want to turn around and go home? Hellya! Did that desire fade after the first couple of miles, like it usually does? Uh, no..that's not good.
Also in the big pile of "things that aren't good"; I wasn't feeling the usual snap in the legs. To be fair, what I call "snap", many cyclists would call "lethargy", but still, I was running well under my normal cruising speed. Ah well, I said; no sense worrying about it now, here comes Sycamore.
Sycamore killed me. I stopped twice to hyper-v and try not to puke, when I haven't had to stop once in the last dozen times I've climbed that hill. WTF was up with me? I may be a wimp, but I'm not usually that feeble. Anyway, I made it to the top, and pressed on along Grandview to Greenleaf and down to the West End Circle. Hmmm...I was cruising on the flats at a whopping 10 miles per; that's not a good sign, when I'm only 10 miles into a 125-mile ride. Finally, after a brief jaunt into good old Temperanceville, I decided to pack it in, and pedaled home with my metaphoric tail tucked quite neatly betwixt my slow-moving legs.
I dunno; didn't feel sick per se, and I've only got a little residual congestion from a cold; just didn't have much to give today. After I got home, I poured a couple of cups of coffee down my throat, then spent the rest of the day happily rebuilding the Rocket and framing in walls in the basement; no real problems, no lack of energy.
Definitely feeling a bit of shame; us tough-as-nails rando types are supposed to soldier on, not throw in the proverbial towel at the first sign of trouble. But, given how poorly I was doing, it was probably the right choice, especially since I'm supposed to not only ride the Populaire next Saturday, but also lead a Dirty Dozen training ride the following Sunday morning. That's gonna be interesting...
So, I set off this morning at about 7:45 or so, enjoying the traditional randonneuring combination of drizzle and high 40s temperature. Did I want to turn around and go home? Hellya! Did that desire fade after the first couple of miles, like it usually does? Uh, no..that's not good.
Also in the big pile of "things that aren't good"; I wasn't feeling the usual snap in the legs. To be fair, what I call "snap", many cyclists would call "lethargy", but still, I was running well under my normal cruising speed. Ah well, I said; no sense worrying about it now, here comes Sycamore.
Sycamore killed me. I stopped twice to hyper-v and try not to puke, when I haven't had to stop once in the last dozen times I've climbed that hill. WTF was up with me? I may be a wimp, but I'm not usually that feeble. Anyway, I made it to the top, and pressed on along Grandview to Greenleaf and down to the West End Circle. Hmmm...I was cruising on the flats at a whopping 10 miles per; that's not a good sign, when I'm only 10 miles into a 125-mile ride. Finally, after a brief jaunt into good old Temperanceville, I decided to pack it in, and pedaled home with my metaphoric tail tucked quite neatly betwixt my slow-moving legs.
I dunno; didn't feel sick per se, and I've only got a little residual congestion from a cold; just didn't have much to give today. After I got home, I poured a couple of cups of coffee down my throat, then spent the rest of the day happily rebuilding the Rocket and framing in walls in the basement; no real problems, no lack of energy.
Definitely feeling a bit of shame; us tough-as-nails rando types are supposed to soldier on, not throw in the proverbial towel at the first sign of trouble. But, given how poorly I was doing, it was probably the right choice, especially since I'm supposed to not only ride the Populaire next Saturday, but also lead a Dirty Dozen training ride the following Sunday morning. That's gonna be interesting...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Dirty Dozen Training: Center/Ravine/Berry Hill/High
First Dirty Dozen training ride of the season for me. Jim Logan led the ride out of the K-Mart parking lot in Shaler; he, myself, Scott, Don, and Brian were in attendance.
I botched my shift to the granny on the very first hill (Center), so ended up climbing more than half of it in my middle ring. Coincidentally (or not), this was also the only hill on which I wasn't dead last...perhaps a lesson could be learned by this, but I'm not gonna try right now.
Ravine hurt. A lot. The long grinders always take a toll on me; I need to work on smoothing my pace a bit, and possibly working on the psychological end of things as well as physical conditioning.
Berry Hill was pretty much business as usual; dead stop, into lowest gear to hit the asphalt wall, then exhaustedly pedaling up to Middle Road. The plummet down Middle is always a good way to revive my spirits, though.
High St has lost a lot of its mystique for me. It's a hill, and not to be sneered at, but is really not that big a deal.
Fun, I think. I take comfort in the fact that I felt significantly better afterwards than last year; I was hoping for a bit more snap on the hills than I actually displayed today, but that's something I can only address by actually riding my damn bike in such terrain rather than doing 100+ miles of long steady distance every weekend.
I botched my shift to the granny on the very first hill (Center), so ended up climbing more than half of it in my middle ring. Coincidentally (or not), this was also the only hill on which I wasn't dead last...perhaps a lesson could be learned by this, but I'm not gonna try right now.
Ravine hurt. A lot. The long grinders always take a toll on me; I need to work on smoothing my pace a bit, and possibly working on the psychological end of things as well as physical conditioning.
Berry Hill was pretty much business as usual; dead stop, into lowest gear to hit the asphalt wall, then exhaustedly pedaling up to Middle Road. The plummet down Middle is always a good way to revive my spirits, though.
High St has lost a lot of its mystique for me. It's a hill, and not to be sneered at, but is really not that big a deal.
Fun, I think. I take comfort in the fact that I felt significantly better afterwards than last year; I was hoping for a bit more snap on the hills than I actually displayed today, but that's something I can only address by actually riding my damn bike in such terrain rather than doing 100+ miles of long steady distance every weekend.
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