I haven’t ridden my bike for a while; changing jobs and travelling turning me into a stress case. But this morning a cancelled meeting opens up a chance to spin, so I rise at dawn and roll onto the road.
Fitness is gone, bike complains about being left alone so long, I pedal through traffic and up into the hills. The sun is out but threatened by clouds to the south, and I am glad I rode early today. Little rattles from the wheels and frame remind me of my inefficiencies, let loose by weeks of sloth.
Rising up to the top of the hills I glance behind like Lot’s wife and nearly turn motionless myself as the valley opens up before me, sun shining in the north and wispy clouds moving in from the south.
Up to the top, I turn again–pause in place as silence envelops me, wind whistling softly past. The hills rise in sets to the south, each a different shade until the last blurs into the cloudy sky. And life itself waits for a moment; a hiccup in time and my anxiety melts–I float in the air. Pause for just a moment, then glide down back home, changed.
While riding today, I realized that I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to do well in the race this weekend. It’s dangerous to do so, because it is just my first race and it’s one that, despite my having successfully finished before, is on a course entirely ill-suited to me.
So in classic Bob fashion, I’m writing out my excuses (to myself, my greatest critic) in advance to avoid any disappointments later.
- My reason for cycling again after a long time off was simply to do the long, epic rides I most enjoy. I started riding faster just so I could do those more quickly and comfortably, and any racing that I do is extra and unexpected. I’ve said this before, in fact when I started cycling the first time, and I quickly became obsessed with racing. But I’ve got plenty else to console myself with if cycling doesn’t become my full-time activity this time.
- My worth as a person does not depend on how I do in this race. Most sane adults do not spend their Saturdays racing around local neighborhoods on bicycles, dressed in spandex and eating fossilized energy bars. It’s all right if some of the other insane ones do it better than me.
- I, like hopefully all other non-full-time-professional cyclists, am doing this for the enjoyment of the sport. If it is not enjoyable, it’s ok to stop doing it.
With those ground rules in place, it’s easy to set my goals for this first race:
- Start it — always the most difficult thing for me, and the thing I’ve really been aiming for. I never said “I really want to finish a race again” — I said, “I really want to race again.”
- Stay safe — no stupid crashes.
- Have fun
Those rules make it entirely acceptable for me to pull out of the race as soon as the starting gun goes off, if I decide I’ve had enough fun. Of course, knowing my history I’ll probably try to stick around a bit longer, but it’s important to know that I don’t have to. Even though the race cost me 43 freaking dollars to enter, it’s my “freaking” money, not my team’s or sponsor’s, and it’s up to me to define successful usage of it.
For me, that puts me on the start line tomorrow at 4:10 pm Pacific Time (thoughts and prayers appreciated at that time). Anything further is icing on the cake.
I just registered for my first bike race in four years. It’s this Saturday afternoon in Los Gatos, kicking off at 4:10 pm.
But I’m still hesitant due to my unknown fitness level, so I thought I’d post my plans online. Now other people know about the race and I have to do it (well, that plus my Dutch heritage won’t let me waste the $43 I paid to enter–what happened to entry fees while I was gone? Yikes.)
Wish me luck!
1 hour or less, intervals, city
Inspired by a Velonews article on getting the best workout in a limited time, remembering my old TV movie ride (spin during the movie, go hard during the commercials), and facing a rapidly setting sun tonight, I devised stoplight intervals.
The concept is to go hard between every other red stoplight or stop sign. So if you’re riding along, you’d go hard from the moment one light turned green until you got to another red light. Of course, these could be various distances apart, so your intervals will be a variety of lengths–much like a race is.
In traffic, you’ll usually hit red lights, as a given direction is stopped slightly longer than it goes on average. But if you are riding hard, start slowing for a red light, and it turns green, what do you do? You’ve got to go again, my friend, just like if you were counterattacked after a sprint. No rest for the weary…
Given an hour total ride time, I can just barely make it to roads that would actually be good for intervals and spin for five minutes before turning around, back into traffic, for a second set. Making lemonade out of lemons (though all the acid seems to end up in my legs…).
4 1/2 hours, 75 miles, steep climbs, shady
I was a little worried that this ride would take up to 6 hours, but it turned out to be just over 4. On a day when the rest of the cycling world was at Redlands, I decided to see some redwoods myself. Big Basin National Park always delivers on that, and in fact I had forgotten how beautiful Highway 236 through the forest was.
Up Stevens Creek and Highway 9, both getting easier as I ride myself into shape, and then down the backside of 9 for the first time in at least 2 years. It’s one of the only descents you can actually get speed acclimatization (remember that from driver’s training?). By the time you get to the first intersection with 236 and the curves get sharper, you’ve forgotten just how fast you’re going. But you get exactly 6 miles of descent before that, and even a few after, so it’s really ok…
5 miles right on 236 brings you to China Grade, where signs warned me of closures “1.85 miles ahead”, but it turned out the construction was already finished (well, I wasn’t going to turn around anyway). Then up the steep slopes of China Grade to 236 again, where a right turn brings you onto one of the most fun sections of road I’ve ridden in Northern California. Completely unique, it twists and turns, mostly downhill, through thick forests on a road almost completely devoid of cars. That dumps you straight uphill onto 9 again, where a gently graded 6 mile climb (went faster than I remember this time) brings you to the top again. Page Mill was quicker and more fun home, the clear skies giving a view all the way to the whitecaps on the ocean on this windy day.
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Originally a discussion about my failed attempt to legally bicycle up Mount Umunhum, this page is now a much more useful discussion about all things Mt. Um-related.
View the original entry, including maps and road names.
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3 hours, steady climbs
So I’ve realized that riding Highway 9 on a weekend is just asking for trouble. I tried it today, and my planned route to Santa Cruz became just a ride around Big Basin, and then finally just a ride around Silicon Valley. The number of cars on the road and the type of drivers that filled them (those hell-bent for Santa Cruz beaches) were a bad match for cycling today, so I chose a calmer route on smaller roads. Santa Cruz will have to wait for a weekday ride, which I fortunately have many of.
In the end, this ride would work better backwards, up 84 and Alpine, down 9. But this was pretty as well, and I got to climb Redwood Gulch again, which is always a pleasure.
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5 hours, long climbs, ocean views
Tunitas is the epic climb of the midpeninsula–long, steep, winding, it is actually quite similar to most other climbs around. There’s just more of it…
One of the worst bonks of my career happened here, while riding with a friend from Stanford. I had to get off my bike several times and lie down in the middle of the road for a bit before being able to continue. To his credit, my friend stood by me and made sure I got over the top and to the grocery store in Woodside. There are only two places to stop for food and water for most of this route, so take advantage of both.
It’s a beautiful ride, with a chance to see the ocean and the wooded climb up Tunitas Creek. The long haul on Highway 84 makes it a good ride to do with a companion, as do the two long steady climbs.
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3 1/2 – 4 hours, severe climbing, some offroad
This ride can be done clockwise or counterclockwise, depending on your desired level of pain. The route below is counterclockwise, which is much more sane. Of course, both directions cover the same distance and the same amount of climbing, but going clockwise requires you to climb up Bohlman-On Orbit-Bohlman (B.O.B.) and Black Mountain Road, both of which rank in the top 5 most difficult climbs I’ve ever done. For now, I’ll be going counterclockwise, climbing longer but more believable slopes.
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