Mermaid Duathlon Report

I was having second thoughts about the whole thing when I dragged my sorry butt out of bed at 4:15 am Sunday morning. A duathlon? Even a sprint duathlon was more than I'd ever done. Since turning over and going back to sleep wasn't an option I started my pre-race morning rituals and got out of the house on time at 5:15.

The whole Mermaid Series was new to me. I had seen their races advertised but hadn't gotten around to doing one. I hadn't even talked with anyone who did their races. Although I thought the duathlon was maybe an afterthought to their regular triathlon, I hadn't been swimming since last year and decided run/bike/run made more sense to me than swim/bike/run. The race took place at Quarry Lakes Regional Recreation Area in Fremont. I've been running on the Alameda Creek Trail since my first marathon season in 2001 but I've never even known that Quarry Lakes existed. It turned out to be a very pleasant surprise and a lovely place.

You know how I like arriving early for things, at worst arriving right on time. Once again I misjudged; I had allotted 45 minutes for the drive and it took way less. I arrived as they were setting up registration. Although there had been packet pick-up the day before, it was in Sunnyvale and there was no way I was going to take the whole day going there and back. I was the first in line for the duathlon pick-up and after the volunteers had been instructed in the procedures I got my numbers, goody bag, chip and shirt.

The bag was a reusable shopping bag with the logo, very cute. The shirt was a cotton short sleeved tee. There wasn't much in the bag beyond ads, discount coupons, a mini-Luna bar and Luna Moons and a sample of Sport-Wash, but the bag itself was nice.

front of the shirt

I grabbed my bike and pack from the car and headed over to the transition area. Before I was allowed in I had my left arm, hand and calf marked with my number. It appeared that the volunteers manning the markers hadn't been told what to put where. Some of the duathlon participants had a "D" along with their age, some had only the "D" and some had only their age. Some women just skipped marking altogether. This did make it tough during the race to determine who were your age group competitors.

Since I was there so early I had my choice of racking spot. The racks were arranged by age group with the family/friends and duathlon groups racking together at the front. I got a primo end spot and set out my gear, checking and double checking to confirm everything was in order. Slowly the area filled up but at least around me it never got crowded or cramped.


The weather at that point, and until well after I finished, was overcast and cool with very little wind. It was perfect for running, perfect for cycling. It was light enough for sunglasses but not so bright that I had to squint. The weather became a total non-issue.

Nobody was too sure where the start for the duathlon (or the run in from the first run) was located. I walked around to confirm the other ins and outs and wandered to the beach area to look around. I made a couple of trips to the bathrooms (which were real bathrooms, not porta potties); the lines weren't at all bad.

At about 7:15 I walked down to the beach with a bunch of other women who obviously were doing the du (they had on running shoes instead of bare feet). The first wave of the triathlon was starting at the same time as the du. Many of the tri women were wearing wetsuits but there were others just in swimsuits, tri suits or even just regular running/cycling clothes.

The organizer walked over to one spot and drew a line in the sand; that was our starting point. Although this was a chip timed race, the start didn't have a mat. We all milled around and realized we had to run through the sand for a couple hundred yards before the road. Yuck. There was one horn that sounded at 7:30 and we were off!

Slipping and sliding, I quickly fell to the back of the pack (not a very big pack, less than 100 women) on the very thick, very soft sand. I wanted to run my own pace and not be influenced by speedy starters but I also wanted to push and see what I could do. Once we got on the road, a gravel access road/trail, I was able to pick up some speed. Since the first run was only 1.5 miles I figured I could push myself much harder than I would otherwise.

The course was supposed to be flat, but there were definitely a couple of little hills. A short 25' or 50' climb is not flat, no matter how you cut it. The route was kind of pretty along the water and through the greens. I ran right on the edge of wheezing and soon found myself back at the sand. I saw we had to run along the water to the same spot where the triathletes exited; there was a timing mat right there, then we had to run up the sand, along the walk and into transition. According to Mr. Garmin it was 1.54 miles, average 11:15/mile (I know! I don't run that fast!).

Mostly because of the distance it took me 3:57 in T1. Although I quickly stripped off my running shoes and threw on my cycling stuff, there still was a long way from mat to mat. I got out on the course and set to work.

The route was 3 circuits of a twisty 3 mile route. I was later told that Union City got pissy about the race using the roads and this route was a last minute change. Despite being advertised as a flat route, we had to cross an overpass each loop, both directions. To me, for the first 2 circuits at least, it wasn't much. But I saw several women struggling, slowing and straggling. That wouldn't have been an issue except both directions were sharing one traffic lane; we had to go single file over the overpass with no passing. A few of the intense racing women had trouble with that; I could see them literally bouncing on their bikes, wanting to get around the slower riders.

My biggest problem was when there was a woman walking her bike up; I had to go around her and the people behind me did too. Road etiquette on the route was hit and miss; mostly women went single file and pulled to the right after passing, calling out when they came up beside you. There unfortunately were those other women who rode 3 across, blocking anyone behind them. A couple of the fastest women were scooting along on the right, weaving in and out, getting impatient with the rookies out there. My opinion was they should go for a race where there isn't a "family and friends" category, that doesn't encourage beginners to enter and compete at their own pace. Sure, you can challenge yourself but remember where you are and cut a little slack.

Anyway, I rode pretty hard and by the end of my third circuit I could feel my legs getting weaker. I was happy to get to the end and hop off. According to Mr. Garmin, 9.3 miles with a 14.3 average. Not too bad, but I thought I had gone faster (according to the official results I averaged 15.2 mph which seems more accurate). T2 was faster with a time of 2:40.

I started running the second route and realized after a few minutes that I had made a big mistake: I didn't eat the gel that was sitting right on top of my running cap. Uh oh. I'd been working hard for almost an hour and all I had consumed were 2 Sport Beans while I was on the bike. At least I had been drinking while on the bike so I wasn't dehydrated. But I was feeling lightheaded and weak.

I slowed way down, and walked up the hills. I also threw in a couple of 30 second walk breaks here and there when I got woozy. When I could I continued running as hard as I could but it was more of a shuffle than a run. No matter, I was shuffling quickly. I managed to take the time to check out the scenery, smile at the other people, think about how lucky I was to be out there. Before I knew it I was back at the beach and running on the damn sand.

I'm glad I'll never know how clumsy I must have looked running along the beach. The sand was deep and soft and rutted from all the others who had run ahead of me. At the end of the sand we had to make a sharp right turn, step up a curb and run up a grassy hill. Man, that was tough for me. I had left everything I had on the course and couldn't make the final sprint look good. I finished that 2.64 miles with a 12:22 average, faster than I had expected.

My final time was 1:35:32. I was happy with that as my new duathlon PR. Since duathlons come in all shapes and sizes it could stay a PR for this particular distance combination. I was in the last quarter of finishers of the duathlon but everyone behind me was younger than I was.

After crossing the line they collected our chips and gave us our finishers medal (and chocolate!). The picture doesn't do the medal justice, it's hard to photograph a shiny little silver object. On one side it says "live, train, sweat and laugh' and the other side "mermaid athlete."

the medal is shiny silver, same as the chain (stupid camera)

Bottles of water were handed out right at the finish, and then there were booths with several vendors. There were samples of many products including Luna, and sponsor vendors selling sports gear, clothing, and other stuff. There was also a free pancake breakfast with fresh fruit and other treats. Very tasty.

Although I wasn't sure, I had a feeling I could possibly be one of the age group winners since I hadn't seen many women with numbers in my age group written on their legs. I knew that one 57 year old had passed me on the second run, I saw a few other women who might have been my age who weren't marked, and a few that I was certain had done the tri, but there was a chance since it was such a small race. I decided to stick around to see if I won something.

It turned out to be quite a wait. There was some problem getting the results out and posted so I plopped myself down on the grass and watched the rest of the athletes finish. There were still quite a few since the last wave went out an hour and a half after the first wave (mine). Each and every woman had her name called out, spurring them up that last hill. It was touching to see many women finish their first event ever, cheered on by their family and friends.

Aaaaaand, I kept waiting. Finally they posted the results but it wasn't broken out by age group. When I was able to get through the crowd I checked the list, checked it again, and rechecked it one final time. Whoohoo, I was second in my group!

Fine, I was also last in my group, there were only two of us (the first had been the woman passing me during the second run). The other women I though were in my age group ended up being either in their 40's or early 50's. Whoopsie. I won't tell them I thought they were older than me.

It was still some time before awards were handed out and the crowd thinned considerably. Little prizes were being handed out for various things like answering questions about the race, or being a Little Mermaid, or having your birthday that week. I think they were just blowing off time until the results were tabulated. My guess is there were problems with the bike route being 3 circuits and some women only riding 2 of those. Some of the bike splits were suspiciously fast and I think they were trying to verify those.

Finally the overall awards were distributed, then the tri age groupers. Finally the du age awards were handed out. I got a nice little bag containing a pair of mermaid socks, a race belt and a few Luna bars. Also? It's pretty damn cool getting your name called as a winner (even if the pool is so small). Worth waiting for!


My overall impressions? Even though I was alone I had fun and a challenge. Both the tri and du are great races for beginners or those trying to challenge themselves. I don't think it's really a race for experts unless the bike route is improved. The overall organization was very good with only a couple of glitches (the body marking and the delay in the results). Course support was excellent, both along the running trails and the cycling route. It also looked like there were many volunteers in the water to help out the swimmers. The running route was scenic and the surface didn't give my clumsy ankles any problems. The bike route was crap, but that wasn't the organizer's fault. The shirt was cute, the bag was nice, the food available afterward was abundant and tasty. I will definitely do it again as long as it remains in a location that's accessible (I was told they'd probably move it next year).

And next year? The rest of you 55-59 year old women can just stay home again. I like placing in my age group!

Keep the sharp instruments away

While gardening today I had another example of why I shouldn't. Somehow I'm managing to slice or impale some body part almost every time I'm in the yard. Today I was trimming back some branches from my beautiful backyard maple tree (too much shade on my struggling lime tree). I guess I didn't see that my hand was in the way of the pruning sheers so I made an incision in my palm. Sheesh. I have to admit, though, that the red dripping on the green leaves was very pretty.

My wall of jasmine smells so astoundingly wonderful that I wish I had the capability of smelloblogging. Maybe we could convince Blogger to come up with an app for that?


On Saturday I ran 10 miles with Anita on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail. It was the best run this year, possibly the best run in over a year. It just felt right. We did a 9:1 run:walk for almost the entire run excepting the time I was choking on a gel and the time I had a crying jag (don't ask). It was cold and windy, probably low-50's when we started and maybe mid-50's when we finished. We had an unusual but welcome tail wind for the last 5 miles and that helped. We started slower but our overall average was 12:30 and the entire run I felt comfortable. I think keeping our mileage at the 10-ish range will help our endurance and rebuild my confidence in my running. I'm looking forward to See Jane Run Half Marathon next weekend.

Since I've registered for the Mermaid Duathlon (which is in 2 weeks) I felt it would be a very good idea if I did a brick training. I haven't done that since the tri last year and I've forgotten how to transition. Not the change-clothes part, the use-different-muscles part. The du is 1.5 run, 10 bike, 2.5 run. I wanted to do something similar but save the full distance for the race.

Sunday morning I left my house and ran out a half mile, turned around and ran back home again. I scurried to change shoes/helmet/gloves/jacket and popped onto my bike. I dithered for a moment as to which direction I should go and decided that heading south was good. I went down to Dublin, up and around a neighborhood and then back north again. Part of my brain was telling me to take it easy since it was training; the other part of my brain was telling me to push it to see what I could do. It was cold and windy again, a swirly wind that would smack me alternately in the face and crosswise.

When I arrived back at my garage I had ridden 9.5. I did another quick shoe/hat change, headed back out and Holy Sneakers Batman! I had completely forgotten that wobbly-legged feeling of running after cycling. My legs weren't exactly fatigued, but they weren't working right either. After about a quarter mile I felt like I was back in the game and I pushed on. I had that same half/half brain talk going on, with the additional voice saying I was only going 2 miles total during that leg so I could push it.

My workout ended about 1:25 after I began with 1m run, 9.5m bike, 2m run. The first pre-ride mile was 11:22, much faster than it should have been. The first post-ride mile was 11:16 and what the hell is up with that? My last run mile was 11:37, still faster (much faster) than normal. My cycling average was about 13, mostly due to the wind.

I'm feeling more secure about the real race now. The run is on dirt so I know I'll have problems (and slowing) there and the crappy revised bike route is 3 tight loops where I know I'll have to slow way down to make all the turns. Despite that, I know I can do it and do it without beating myself up too badly. I also know I'm probably going to be racing it harder than I had originally anticipated.

If you'll excuse me now, I think I'll go play with one of these:

Bike to Work Day

It's easy to ride your bike to work when you live less than 12 miles from your office. C'mon, I just rode a century! Twelve miles is nothing, right? So for the Bay Area's 15th Annual Bike to Work Day I decided I should give it a shot. I've lived in this house for almost 11 years, my office has been where it is for longer than that and I've been riding a bike for even longer. I've always had some lame excuse to not ride and this year it was time. The idea behind Bike to Work Day is that possibly people will find how convenient it is and make riding to work a habit.

Jeanette decided she'd come ride with me, since riding from her house would have been quite a trek. Yeah, it sort of defeated the purpose of the day for her to drive to my house but at least we saved my gas, right? Anyway, it made it more likely that I'd actually get on the bike if I had company.

The day didn't start too auspiciously. In a big "whoops" moment, while I was pumping up my front tire the valve tip broke off. Right off, into my hand. Uh oh. It appeared that the little retractable stem was pushed into the valve stem and as far as I could tell there was no air leakage. But it was highly risky to decide not to change the tube right then and there. I decided to be lazy and see how it went. For once I got very lucky and my tire was just as hard when I got home as when I left.

It was cool and clear and beautiful when we set out. We were able to go straight down one main street for almost the entire way. We rode quickly and smoothly and got to the office in well under an hour. We even stopped at one of the Energizer Stations and picked up a cool commuter bag with the above logo, an energy bar and a banana. Pretty nice, for a measly 12 mile ride.

I had left a change of clothes and some toiletries/cosmetics in the office the day before so I was able to freshen up and put on clean clothes. But the lack of a shower after the ride left me feeling vaguely unclean. Although when I'm running or riding I don't care how I smell or how gritty and salty and dirty my skin gets, when I'm done I want to be crispy clean. I just have this thing, I don't like feeling dirty. Only a shower will make me feel clean and there isn't one at the office. That was the biggest down side of riding to work.

The other thing is, even though it's easy to ride TO work, riding home is another question. Even though the route is short I'd much prefer to ride 25 miles at once than ride half in the morning and half in the late afternoon. I was surprised at how fatigued I felt riding home. Although part of that was the wicked head wind (and what was up with that? All week there had been a NNW wind that would have blown us straight home, but today it was more SW and in our faces) the rest was plain old fashioned weariness.

The good news is it will get easier. Yes, I intend to do it again (even though I spent the day feeling schmootzy). And Jeanette said she'll join me again. Since there really is a short window of having enough light both in the morning and the evening, we'll start right in. At the moment our goal is to do it about every other week. Looks like having this special day worked!

That running thing

For the past few months (if by "few" I mean "15") I haven't done a whole lot of running. Mostly not by choice, there was the knee (then back then stomach then century) thing that got in the way. Now that the century is finished I want to get back to my first love, running. So far (knock on wood) it hasn't made my knee or back any worse so I'm ramping up the mileage in anticipation of summer half marathons.

Saturday morning I ran 6 miles. In all honesty it was "ran 3-1/2 miles, staggered 1/2 mile, stopped to chat with my very first running partner (whom I hadn't seen for a year) for a half hour, then ran the last 2 miles." If they made races where you could take a long breather I'd be doing aces! As it is, my endurance is very suspect. Being spring I've got the whole allergy/asthma problem on most days and being spring in the valley I have the whole wind problem. As chronicled many other times I have problems breathing when there's wind blowing into my face. I think it all comes down to this being a WAH WAH WAH quitcher whining, get over it, cut out the damn excuses situation.

So where was I? Right, with the "6 mile" run. I felt very good afterward, not a single ache, pain or spasm. My head felt good, my legs felt good, my back felt good. So Sunday I went for an easy 4 mile run. It went well enough (if you don't count the wheezing) for about 3-1/2 miles when all of a sudden I felt I was going to puke. I got over that after walking slowly for a short bit, then ran the rest of the way. Despite that, I felt like it had been a good run.

Good mostly because Sandy was back in town running with me. It had been a long long time since we had run together, a long time since we had talked, a long time since we'd seen each other. Maybe I was out of breath because I wouldn't shut up. Or maybe I was pushing myself to keep up with her. But it felt like old times and was great having her here and running with her.

Now I need to make a schedule. For now I don't particularly want to run 2 days in a row, at least until I'm sure no body parts are going to be falling off or getting inflamed. My fantasy schedule has me running long on Saturdays, cycling on Sunday, lower body toning on Monday morning, running after work on Tuesday and Thursday and walking on Wednesday. Somewhere I have to stick in swimming as I want to restart that too. Since I'm running directly after work I could possibly swim after that (the pool doesn't open for adult lap swim until late), but it wouldn't be a high quality swim unless I only ran short. In that fantasy schedule I'm also doing core exercises on a daily basis and doing knee therapy exercises a few times weekly and finding time to maybe do some upper body strengthening.

When did my fantasies start to involve so much WORK?

Solvang Century ride report

DISCLOSURE: My memories of the ride itself are a little confused. I can't remember exactly what happened exactly when. Please forgive me if I refer to someplace at the wrong time, or some time at the incorrect distance, or if I just scramble the whole thing up. What I remember is here, in whatever order I seem to remember. I suppose I could browse through other ride reports and get it straightened out, but I want this to be what I went through, not what someone else experienced.

I took Thursday and Friday as vacation days. Although I travel to lots of races, none of them have required cycling gear except the triathlon. I was nervous about forgetting -- oh -- anything, and wanted Thursday to pack in peace. By the time I hopped into bed Thursday night my car was packed up and ready to go.

Bree met me at my house Friday morning and we transferred her bike and gear to my car. Although she accused me of being Count Pakula there was still a bit of room for her to load up a couple of things. We stopped to pick up coffee and hit the road at 8:40 am.

Long drive. We stopped once to find a bathroom (all that hydrating) and once for lunch. As we drove we pointed out hills that we hoped we wouldn't be climbing during the century (and it turned out that one we only jokingly included as a probable due to its very large size was in fact one of the larger hills we climbed). We arrived in Solvang, Buellton actually, in very good time and went into the hotel to see if we could check in early.

Bree was able to get her room. The hotel had no record of me. As I steamed and fumed the ("I'm in training") clerk repeatedly tried my name and found nothing. I called our team manager and discovered that although she was in the hotel, she was involved in a staff meeting. While I knew that I wouldn't have to sleep in my car no matter what, I didn't need the extra worry and stress.

When the meeting was over our manager pointed out to the hotel manager that my name was indeed on the list that TnT had sent. It was at the top of a page in what looked to be only a header row so their missing it wasn't terribly surprising, but it was there nonetheless. The hotel manager got me a room, apologising repeatedly and asked me if she could send a few sodas or something to my room. I said a bottle of white wine would be nice and she said she'd have it sent along.

I had enough time to unload my car and change into cycling gear before we were supposed to meet for a tune-up ride. Because not everyone arrived at the same time, we set out in groups. It was a short ride, just down the road to Easy Street. I'm not making that up. We turned around and were able to try out all our gears, the brakes, everything on the bike. When I got back I looked at my tires since we had ridden through a patch of broken glass. I pulled a couple of tiny slivers out of my front tire and was sure I'd have a flat tire in the morning. Luckily this isn't foreshadowing. My tire was fine through the whole ride.

The pasta dinner was the usual TnT affair; pasta, salad, chicken, bread, speeches, the video (a new one that didn't leave me in the slightest bit weepy), more talks, Go Team! In addition to our San Francisco Chapter, there were the Los Angeles and Northern Texas Chapters attending. It was a large, boisterous crowd like most TnT pasta parties. The biggest difference at this party (to me) was they announced my name as one of the two Triple Crown earners. After that people started congratulating me and I told them to cut it out, they were jinxing me. Ride first, Triple Crown after.

We met up afterward for final instructions and arrangements and talks from Coach Cyd and Coaches Beth and Lorraine. Our little group were all given pieces of purple boa and pipe cleaners to attach to our helmets. I thought it was a little overboard and precious, but it turned out to be a great idea.

Bree and I drove over to the ride expo since we had picked up our bibs at the TnT table in the hotel. The race branded gear wasn't exciting. An expensive jersey out of odd mesh-like fabric, a jacket, a white tee shirt, a twill hat. There were several booths selling cycling gear and nutrition. We wandered around and decided we didn't need to buy a thing.

Although it was advertised that registration included a tube of Chamois Butt'r, a Clif Shot and a Mojo Bar we only received the tube of road rash remedy. It looked like the registration table at the expo didn't have any either, so maybe there was a foul-up somewhere. We also received a Solvang Century magnet with the logo.

Back to the hotel and what seemed both like 15 minutes and 15 hours in bed trying to sleep. I didn't get less sleep than normal before a race but that's not saying anything. I was up before the alarm, turned on the coffee pot and ... turned on the coffee pot and ... turned on the coffee pot ... realized the coffee pot wasn't working. I took a quick shower, threw on half of my clothes and went down to the lobby and bought a cup of coffee. Wait. That sounds like I went down to the lobby half naked and I didn't. I should have said that I threw on the bottom layer of clothes. Back to my room and finished getting ready and was in the lobby with my bike by 6:45 am, our designated meeting time.


I wasn't too hopeful that we'd start at our 7:00 am planned time since we hadn't yet started on time all season. There was a lot of hustle and bustle and scurrying and hurrying and pictures and waiting for it to be 7:00 at which time we actually rolled out. Whoohoo! Let's do the damn thing!

We started off, boas flying in the breeze, in a tight paceline. At least I think it was a tight paceline; I was toward the front. It was still dawn, not fully light out but it got brighter as we rode on. My new cycle computer was working very well proving that simple and inexpensive isn't a bad thing. Mr. Garmin, however, decided to go signal-less for about 3 miles before I realized it wasn't recording. D'oh! I fiddled with it while trying to maintain my place in line and finally got it working. No big deal, but my geeky side was a little disappointed I wouldn't have full stats for the ride.

The little gap in the red route is where Mr. Garmin was taking a nap

For the first part of the ride Coach Beth rode in front, keeping our speed low enough on the flats that we mostly stayed in a group. The couple of early hills were enough to spread us out along the route. We all met up at the first SAG stop at about 23 miles. In what would be repeated throughout the day, I was ready and willing to continue on much sooner than the rest of the group. Also in what would be repeated, before we left our group had a "mission moment." We would talk about either one of our group honorees, or someone's personal honoree, have a moment of silence and then shout out "go team!" before rolling on. Each and every one of those moments got me teary, thinking about my dad, thinking about all those we were riding for, thinking how important was the cause.

In the beginning of the next section I sat right on Coach Beth's wheel, getting sucked along in her wake. As we continued on though, I found myself slipping back in the group. I'd speed up to catch onto somebody's wheel to block the wind, then I'd fade back again. I fell farther and farther back into our group with only the very slowest hill climbers behind me (which included Bree with her injured knee).

The second SAG stop was at mile 39, after a lengthy uphill section. I started feeling my energy flagging and realized that a lot of it was due to trying to keep up with the group. I decided to go my own pace from there. I was consuming my pop tarts and gu on a regular basis and drinking maybe not quite enough of my Ultima. The third SAG was at mile 60 after a bitch of an uphill. I think that was where I announced I was feeling craptastic. More riding, more ups and downs, more introspection, more chatting and silent time. I was on my own for long periods but always caught back up with the group at the next SAG. From about mile 65 on I started feeling sad and on the verge of tears. I wasn't hurting more than normal, wasn't tired more than normal, I was just worn out.

SAG 4 was at mile 73 and was the start of a long long long uphill section. I rode this alone and attempted to ignore anyone who tried to talk with me, including my coach and teammates. I didn't have the energy to chat, didn't have the inclination or the mood to be friendly. This section was very strange to me. I knew there was supposed to be this 15 mile or so uphill and from the map expected it to be horrible. But I felt as if I was just riding up a grade. Granted, we had a tailwind at that point. But I was able to comfortably, if slowly continue riding. Where's the hill? Where's the hill? Where's the hill? We had been told we'd stop and regroup before the hill and I kept waiting and waiting and getting more impatient and worried. I stopped momentarily a couple of times, once to pull off one arm warmer and once to eat a gel. I passed part of my group who were changing a tire and caught up to the rest of the group who had stopped just before the hill. The real hill.

That hill was a stinking bitch. A horrific steep climb with blind corners so you'd never know when it was going to end. Thinking that this was the long hill I tortured myself with visions that it was going to last for 10 miles and felt awful. I stopped twice on this particular hill to catch my breath, crested the top much sooner than I had anticipated and realized that this was the end of the big hill. At the top I considered stopping but decided to just zip up my jersey and jacket and continue along. I overheard some random guy tell his buddy not to worry, there were only 2 more climbs like that. Good thing for him he was faster than me; I would have ridden over and knocked him upside the head.

A steep downhill (and we know how much I like twisty downhills on rutted roads) and then the second stinking bitch of a hill. That one I had to stop 3 times to catch my breath, the effort seemed to be cumulative. At the SAG stop where I caught up with most of the team I assured them that the ride had sunk to new depths of suckitude which amused the heck out of some of them. After our last mission moment where I really thought I would lose it, we took off in smaller groups (or alone) and were told we'd meet up before the finish and all ride in together. I've actually blanked out whether that last SAG came after the first hill or the second, I was that zoned out. Or in the zone, whichever applied.

The road surface continued to be crap on the downhills, making any speed risky and highly uncomfortable. I attempted to put all my weight on my feet instead of my hands or my increasingly sore sit bones, but to do that I'd have to stop pedaling or braking.

And then came the "last" hill. Wide open road, up up and then up some more. While I was tempted, highly tempted to walk it, my stubbornness just let me make a couple of breathing stops. I finally got to the top and started crying. I was so thrilled that I had done the last hill, thrilled that I had gone more than 10 miles past the farthest I'd ever gone, saddened over so many personal issues and the tears poured down my cheeks. For only a few moments though. Just like when I run marathons I told myself to suck it up, shut up, take a breath and get on with it. I knew I didn't have the energy to completely melt down and had to refocus on the rest of the ride.

The rest of the ride had more rutted roads and a couple more hills. Hey, where'd they come from? Although the majority of it was downhill or downgrade, the roads until about mile 100 were awful. Then we arrived back in town and road conditions improved. I looked for the team and finally came around a corner and there they were, my group, with helmet boas flowing. Everyone was a little giddy while we awaited the arrival of our final members. I was too tired to be giddy and was just grumpily pleased that I was almost done.

The scenery on the ride varied from lovely green hills and valleys sprouting with wildflowers to ugly freeways to residential/commercial areas to vineyards. The Napafication of the area was frankly scary, knowing the habitat and landscape destruction of the Napa and Sonoma valleys. Sadly, a burgeoning wine industry is likely to cause hills to be topped, slopes to be denuded, waters to be fouled and the natural beauty of the area changed beyond recognition. Because most of the day was gray and overcast it wasn't quite as scenic as it could have been. Also, after several hours on a bike everything starts to look similar.

The weather, as I mentioned, was ok but not great. It started off cool and overcast with a wind and it ended cool and overcast with a wind. I believe it was low 50's the entire day with a steady 10 mph wind that gusted much higher. I didn't take off my glove liners until about 60 miles and never removed my ear covers. I also never removed my jacket and only unzipped on the sweaty uphills.

The purple feather boa decorations on our helmets turned out to be a genius idea. We were able to see our group members, know if someone was part of our group or not. Other riders frequently commented, mostly with teasing and humor. The boa didn't bounce or drag or blow in the wind and I really didn't even know it was there. It was funny when I rode behind the group to see purple feathers drifting along the road.

Our last stragglers arrived and we headed off in the same big group we had started in, ohsoverymany hours earlier. Of course, then we got split up at a couple of stop lights so we ended up not rolling in together after all. Whoops. In fact, the last few of us to arrive at the meeting place were among the first of the group to finish. Or should I say "finish" since we still had to ride back to the hotel.

still boa'd after all those miles and hours

There was an actual finish line and as we rode across we received our finishing goodie bag (which contained our patch, a mini-Clif bar and a pile of papers for other rides).


We walked over to the team tent and received our "100" pins and our medals. Yep, TnT realizes that we do these things for the bling and made up medals specially for us. Very nice, very appreciated. And as a special bonus I received my coveted Triple Crown pin showing that I'd completed (and fundraised for) TnT marathon, triathlon and century events. I thought that Triple Crown was just a title, didn't know I'd get an extra pin.

oooooh, shiny!

Then, although we wanted to wait for the rest of the team to arrive, a half dozen or so of us realized that we were so pooped we'd better head back to the hotel while we could. Good thing too. We had a horrible headwind in that direction and those 3 or so miles felt like 10 more. Finally, 11 hours after we started, 9 hours riding time and 103+ miles I was done.

I got back to my room, texted and tweeted and called all my friends and relatives and then took the longest hot shower I had taken since my drought water restrictions went into effect. I think I intended to drain the hotel's entire water supply but finally had to get out because I was too tired to stand any longer. I managed to dress and get myself on my feet and headed to the victory party.

Although I wasn't particularly hungry I realized I hadn't eaten enough during the day and hadn't had anything to drink after the ride except a glass of wine. None of the food looked too terribly appetizing except for the mashed potatoes but I forced myself to take some nutritious food too. And some wine since I was dehydrated. Some water too, for balance. During the ride I only drank about 4 bottles of Ultima, ate less than 6 pop tarts and slurped about 10 gels.

It was a fun party with food and drink and dancing and wonderful people. Verging on maudlin I thanked all the people who had specially helped me through the season. My mentor Amy was the best mentor I've had in all my seasons with TnT. Our head coach Cyd was always there. Always. I was astounded to see her week after week, even during her injured time off the bike. She was warm, friendly, informative and a great coach. Coach Susie and Captain Grace blew my mind by riding the entire century, despite their own injuries. Such tough, strong women. Lynn and Bob got my vote for best couple; Lynn for her fun attitude and Bob for his great SAG talents. Julie was always there with a smile and a friendly word, always helping someone along, waiting for us slowpokes despite being able to go ahead.

I don't even know what to say about Coach Beth and Coach Lorraine, the leaders of our little group. Very different in their approaches but so similar in execution. They both knew when to encourage me, when to talk with me, when to ignore me, when to get close and when to leave me along. They knew, without a doubt, that I would finish this ride. They had faith in my ability and determination and let me know that. They knew when I needed a hug, when I needed help dislodging my chain, when I entered deeply into the bite-me zone and needed the world to go away. During the century Beth pulled the front of the team along while Lorraine encouraged those of us trailing alone. I had more fun with the two of them, with this entire team, than I've had for so long.

My companion for the entire season was Bree. Until her knee acted up she was always just a bit ahead of me, always waiting, always there. Together we carpooled, we grilled cheesed, we beered and caked and gossiped about everyone else around us. We supported each other the entire season. This would have been a lonely training season without her training along with me. We rode together, drove together, laughed together and bitched together. Thank you Bree!

I'm very glad I did this even though my body has made it very clear that I never have to do it again. I'm not made for cycling over 5 hours, week after week. I'll continue with the bike since I've rediscovered how much I enjoy it. I think I'll enjoy it even more when I'm finally able to stop with the long pants, jacket and ear warmers.

I don't know what my next adventure will be. I guarantee it will be easier than this century!

Long winded report

It's taking me as long to write my ride report as it took me to do the ride. I'm very fuzzy about so many of the details and I keep going back to edit and re-edit and post pictures and add more. I think it'll probably take you as long to read it too.

I'm hoping tonight it'll be finished. Or maybe some time Friday. Or Saturday. Soon!

One long ride

I did it. This past Saturday I completed the Solvang Century; 103 miles of ... of ... of ... well, of cycling. It took me 9 hours of riding, about 10-1/2 hours out with the Team. It was hard, but I expected that. In fact, it was close to how I had imagined it would be (I have a very vivid imagination). I'll do a ride report soon but for now I don't think I've entirely processed the fact that I've gone so far. It was undoubtedly the hardest physical effort I've ever undertaken.

Now it's time to get back my life. The past year has been a blur, with my family situation, the triathlon training and then the century training. I need to re-center, re-focus my life. I have to learn again what normal is, or at least what my normal is. I need to clean my house, need to tend to my garden, need to pay my bills and oh yeah, prepare my taxes. I need to get back to a training schedule that won't knock me out, need to eat to enjoy it instead of to train. I need exercise that will reduce stress instead of increasing it. I need to stop whining and wine-ing since neither are doing too much for my sanity.

I want to knit and rummage through my stash to find what treasures I have. I want to stay up late to read a good book or come home and have nothing to do. I'd like to spend more time with friends and catch up with those I've neglected. I'd like to see a movie while it's still in the theaters. I want to travel and see new places. I want to walk if I want to, want to run when it feels right, want to swim if it's warm and cycle because I can.

To me, this is New Years Eve. I'm ready for a fresh start.

3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Go!

I got the group email from our head coach this morning telling us that now is not the time to try anything new or to make up for any lost training. Good news and bad news. I guess we never feel we're adequately trained for how we want to perform. If I had done every little thing in training, I'd be wishing that I had done it harder, or faster, or more. This way at least my expectations are realistic.

Best case scenario: finish the ride in 9 hours. So totally unlikely that we don't have to think about it.

Probable scenario: finish the century in 10-1/2 to 11 hours. Average 10 mph while on the bike and twiddle my thumbs nervously while my team lingers at the rest stops.

Bad scenario: finish the ride in 13 hours and go to the victory party in my cycling clothes.

Worst case scenario: walk and push the bike the last 15 miles in the dark (remember, it's now daylight savings time and it's light until about 7:45 pm).

You'll notice that nowhere is it even suggested or thought of that I won't finish. If I'm conscious I will finish that ride. I might not be friendly, might not be happy for a 40 mile stretch, might be sore and cranky and tired and nauseous but I will finish the century. Every mile, every inch. I will see gorgeous spring scenery, I will have fun crowd watching, I will have challenging uphills and downhills and easier flat areas. I will be with my teammates who are all there for the same underlying reason: cancer sucks. Every dollar we raised (close to $120,000 for the team) will help that. I'm strong, committed and ready to go.

Is it Saturday yet?

No more training rides

This is it, it's crunch time. I have 5 days of "rest" and then it's the biggie, the long ride, the century, Solvang! We had our last team training ride, our taper ride, on Saturday and there's only one more ride together as a group. The big one. The long ride. The century. Holy crap, it's almost time to ride 104 miles at Solvang.

Saturday dawned much cooler than expected. The forecasters all blew it. It was supposed to be cool in the morning and warming with the sun. Sun? Not so much until after we were done with our entire ride. It was foggy and cloudy but at least there was very little wind. What a difference that makes. Like almost every ride this season I started with a jacket, ear warmers, glove liners and my toes were numb within 10 minutes.

We met in Danville and headed out toward Livermore for our "flat" "easy" ride. It's funny how the hills were so much easier than they had been several weeks ago. That's easier, not easy. I wasn't having a good stomach day so I was able to either eat and drink and feel like I was about to puke, or go without food and hydrating and hit the wall. I tried to do most of my eating at the couple of rest stops but that really wasn't enough and sure enough, in the middle of the ride (my nemesis) I wanted to throw my hands up and quit. I didn't, but man, I was tempted. I kept telling myself to just ride another 5 miles and I could jump in the sag, then another 5, then another. I was on the verge of tears for about 20 miles.
I went a good ways through Livermore at the front of our paceline right behind Coach Beth. She's one of the few people that I trust enough to draft off of closely enough for it to do some good. Her dragging me along was a big reason that long stretch went so well. Also, the scenery was spectacular. Green fields and hills, mustard, lupine, birds and baby barnyard animals. We saw the cutest, teensiest newborn lambs. I wanted to gawk but if I had slowed I would have knocked over our entire paceline so I just got a short glimpse.

Toward the end of the Livermore portion of the ride I started feeling low again and waved people ahead of me. I didn't feel that I could keep up with the line and wanted to go my own pace, even if that meant I'd have nobody ahead of me to ease the way. We had a short stop at our last waterstop and headed out for the final stretch, about 14 miles to go.

Once again my chain popped off and jammed when I shifted into my granny. Beth stopped and helped me to unjam it. The annoyance factor and struggle to free the chain gave me a big boost of adrenaline that helped me back out to the main road. Then I wore out again. I knew the rest of the route very well and knew it was easy, not a single uphill stretch. I fell back and took it easy until we hit town. Then I got my final jot of energy and flew back to the parking lot. I passed everyone in my group; I was on a mission to finish.

I'm hoping the stomach issues and the I'm-getting-a-cold feelings will work themselves out in the next few days. Obviously hitting the wall isn't going to stop me in Solvang, it'll just make it a miserable experience. As I intend this to be my one-and-only full century (ever), I'd like to have it be a good experience. My brain is ready. My body better be too.

Salmon Run

I forgot to ask why our ride Saturday was named the Salmon Run. I didn't see any salmon running.It was the hardest physical activity of my life (or at least the hardest my memory recalls, since I tend to forget how hard something is after the next hard something comes along). We rode 81.8 miles (or 83, or 80.2, or somewhere in the middle, depending on whose computer you believe) with about 5000 feet (or maybe almost 6000 feet according to our coach) elevation gain. My longest ride ever, my longest time on a bike ever, my longest time doing some continuous athletic activity ever. It took us nine and a half hours from start to finish, with just over 8 being our riding time. None of my stops were long but they were numerous, most to catch my breath.

It was a beautiful, windy day in Marin County, overcast but with crystal clear visibility, and windy. Very very very windy, especially along the coast. Windy. Have I ever mentioned that I dislike wind even more than hills? Well, it was windy.

It was hilly too, but the hills would have been much easier without the wind either pushing us backwards or sideways. In addition to being scary (the crosswinds were pushing me into traffic) the wind was hell on my asthma and allergies and I wheezed and gasped and dripped along almost the entire route. I think without the wind it would have been my favorite ride yet, but I had a terrible time and got quite cranky about halfway through. I think the coaches expected me to bail but I refused. Hey, breathing is overrated, right?

Bree and I carpooled to the start again and met up with the team. We started (late, of course) at McInnis Park and headed out along Lucas Valley Road. We climbed up to Big Rock and then headed down through Nicasio again. I think this was our third time through Nicasio and it just gets prettier as it gets greener. We then went on Pt. Reyes/Petaluma Road, over the top of Cheese Factory Hill, along Hicks Valley Road to Marshall/Petaluma Road. Then we climbed up Marshall Wall which was just as bad as the name would suggest. But scenic, absolutely gorgeous. Yes, it's nice to ride uphill at about 3-4 mph because you really get to take in the scenery. In depth.

After a steep, twisty descent on scary rutted roads we turned onto Highway 1 for a trip to Tomales Bay, then back again. This part was "rollers" (or "hills" as I like to call them) and my wheezy lungs were not having a great time. On the return trip traffic got heavy and man, some of those drivers get very impatient and mean when they have to slow down from a gazillion mph to something approaching the speed limit. We went through Pt. Reyes Station and Olema and then turned away from the coast to go up Olema Hill. It was less windy after that but the winds didn't disappear unless we were in a sheltered spot.

We returned back through Nicasio Valley (the reservoir seems to have much more water in it since the rains), returning to Lucas Valley Road. We got to climb back up to Big Rock, actually easier in that direction. Then a steep downhill, back through town and whoohooo, we were done! For the last few miles one, then another of us would hit 80 miles on our odometer and we cheered each and every time. I think we were all giddy at the thought of being done. The last mile or so all I could think of was "are we done yet? Are we done yet? Are we done yet? Are we done yet" and I think some of that was out loud.

One of the biggest problems I had is that when (1) I'm wheezing and gasping to breathe and (2) the wind is making me white-knuckle the bike to stay upright, I can neither eat nor drink. I barely touched my pop tarts (in total over the long day I only had 3) and I only went through 4-1/2 bottles of drink. I had (I think) 5 gels, but that was hardly enough for 8 hours of hard riding. When the winds calmed I was able to stuff my mouth, but otherwise I think I was skirting close to the edge of a bonk for the middle 40 miles.

Two more big rides are left; our 5o mile taper ride next week and (sound the horns and bells and whistles) Solvang the week after. I have no doubt that I'll be able to do 100 miles, as I have no doubt I'll feel like crap afterward. I'm astounded how much harder riding those long distances is than running a marathon, even a hard marathon (... or maybe it's just been too long and I've forgotten ...). I enjoy this team and all (or almost all) of my teammates and coaches and staff and I can't say how much I've loved seeing all the new areas. But my exhaustion levels are incredible. I got up this morning and felt like I had the world's worst hangover without the benefit of having had any alcohol first. I think sticking with metric centuries or less will be smartest for me, unless my asthma and allergies go away (and unless somehow I become faster so I can get it over with quicker).

I'm excited and terrified and elated and scared and full of anticipation for the century. I'm ready now, as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do the damn thing!

Best ride yet!

I wish I knew why Saturday's ride went so well. I'd like to recreate every action, every thought, every move that made this such a great ride. I'm hoping it's because I'm so well trained now (HA!).

We'd been watching the weather all week since a big storm was predicted. Another "storm of the year" was coming, forecast for later on Saturday. Torrential rains, high winds. We hoped it would stay clear enough to ride and we got our wish.

I got out of bed at 4:45 am to get ready for the longest ride I've done for 10 (or so) years. At 5:30 I was out the door headed to Bree's house. At 5:50 am I came to a dead stop on 580, right next to the Castro Valley BART station - traffic was halted while (I found out later) a shooting was cleaned up. I sat there on the freeway with my car parked, getting very nervous, and then saw two patrol cars exiting the freeway by going off the on-ramp. Cars resumed forward motion and I got to Bree's only a minute or two late.

We made good time to Half Moon Bay and unloaded our bikes in the chilly morning. Our group gathered and we set off at close to 8:00 am (only a half hour late ...). We headed south on Highway 1 in a nice little paceline. At least I think it was nice, I was near the front and didn't see what was going on behind me. It was cool and overcast, not much in the way of a breeze (yet) and the sun was lifting over the mountains to our left. The ocean vistas were spectacular with the intermittent reflected sun. Great to look at as we hit the rollers.

Here I again have to take exception to the term "rollers." In cycling terms a roller is a hill that you speed down, gathering enough momentum to get over the crest of the following hill without having to downshift or work on that uphill. With that explanation I've ridden very few rollers. I just ride up and down and up and down hills, trying my best to go fast and hard enough to cruise for part of it. I actually end up working harder than if I'd just coasted downhill and pedaled uphill.

We rode along, stopping once at a convenient beach outhouse, then took a left and headed away from the coast into the backroads. There were more "rollers" and some of the prettiest scenery that we've gone past on any of our rides (and that's saying something). The road felt like a remote little park lane (except when some jackass would come speeding through at too miles per hour in a car or on a motorcycle). There were small streams, fields, woods; a little of everything. Then we started to climb.

We knew that a hill, a real hill, was coming. We're now getting worried if the coaches call something a hill; they tend to say things are flatter than they really are ("rollers" my ass). The hill before us even had a name, never a good sign. When we stopped having any downhills, any relief, we knew we had reached Haskins Hill. This was, without a doubt, the worst bitch of a hill that I've ever had the displeasure to ride. I hated it. I was cursing, silently since I had no breath. I climbed, and rode, and climbed and finally had to pull over and stop. I caught my breath, continued on, and realized that my heart rate was still too freakin' high and I had to immediately stop once again. I paused, had a drink or two (unfortunately not vodka, it was just Ultima).

I finally kicked off again and continued climbing for another few hours. Or minutes. After a while I had to take one final break. I walked around a corner because I had stopped at a blind spot, then I waited while my breathing got back to normal and my heart stopped threatening to jump out of my throat. Did I mention that my ears kept popping while I was going up that hill? It was that steep. While I stood there looking forlorn (and probably pretty pissed off too) several cyclists passed me. Many of them spoke to me, telling me the top was right around the next corner (and the check's in the mail and there's a prince in Nigeria who wants to leave me money and Madoff has a great investment opportunity for me). I was quite impressed with how encouraging complete strangers, not just my teammates, were to me.

I took a great big breath, sat back down and pedaled my way the rest of the way to the top of that damn hill (and I was right, it wasn't around the next corner. Or the next). Our team had a rest stop and when I pulled in my teammates and coaches were worried about me, afraid that was where I'd have my weekly meltdown. But no problem, I was too angry to even talk with them. At what, I'm not sure. It's stupid to be mad at a hill, even stupider to be mad at our coaches for planning that route. But I was full of adrenaline and just wanted to finish the ride. We were told the worst was over.

The worst was over, but the hills weren't. The downhill wasn't bad at all, even for a downhill weenie like me. Sure, I did lots of braking and slowing but I had decided to push it, to see how fast I could go while maintaining control. I even passed a couple of people, which I've never done before. Still, I was happy when the steep downhill was over and the flatter area began.

After the last rest break our group decided to skip the last hill so we just ... climbed another hill? Huh? We took a detour out and back, then returned to the "rollers" on Highway 1. At one point ahead of me there was a long, open, straight downhill with a wide shoulder on the road. I decided to take that stretch without touching my brakes, passed the rider in front of me and started to fly. Then I saw ahead of me, waiting patiently on the other side of the road for traffic to clear, a big (really big) deer. I hit the brakes, called back to the rest of the riders that I was slowing, and watched first one, then another deer leap gracefully across the road and into the trees. Huh. So much for my sweet downhill.

Because I wanted to get 65 miles and we had taken the little hill-less shortcut, I rode around the neighborhood before going to the parking lot. My legs were tired, it started feeling like I was wading through tar, and I returned to the car just short of 65 miles. I was tired, achy, and strangely exhilarated. I felt ... good! How very ... strange!

As we started putting the bikes in the car I realized that my front tire was very soft. I had gotten a bit of a flat tire during the last few miles, a major reason I felt like I had to work so hard. I don't even know how long I was riding on it that way.

So. 64.8 miles (a metric century plus!). Close to 4500 feet of climbing. Five Pop-Tarts, 4 Gu's, 4 bottles of Ultima, and 7 hours from when we started (only 6 of that actually moving on the bike). No meltdowns, no screaming (where anyone could hear me), no crying. I hated Haskins Hill but enjoyed the rest of the day and couldn't understand why my mood was so improved from our previous rides. My hands hurt, my neck and shoulders were pained, my lungs were scratchy, my eyes itchy and my nose stuffed. But I felt great.

I'm telling myself this is a trend. The next three rides will be our 80 mile training ride in Mill Valley next week, a 50-ish mile training ride in the East Bay and the 104 mile event in Solvang. Just 3 weeks until it's all on the line.

I've always known I could ride the 104 miles. Now I think it's possible I just might have a good time while I'm doing it.

Twenty two days

If you look at that little countdown timer up above, you'll see that it says I'll be riding the Solvang Century in 22 days. Twenty two days. That's twenty two ohgoodgriefIcan'tbelieveit'sthatsoon days. Just over 3 weeks before I get on a bike from sunrise to sunset (and hopefully no longer) and ride said bike for a distance longer than I like to drive. Whose idea was this anyway? (shhh -- don't tell me it was mine)

I'm feeling remarkably unready for this. I haven't yet ridden over 60 miles, although we're scheduled for 65 miles tomorrow and 80 miles next Saturday. One little rainstorm more and our longest training rides will be a forgotten wish and we'll be stuck on the Solvang area roads singularly unprepared. I've been getting in most of my workouts during the week, watching my food consumption and sleep patterns and stress, all those things that you do as part of training for a long event. But without the long rides it's a wash and the entire ride will be on guts.

I know I'll finish the damn thing, that's not even questionable (disclaimer: if I have jagged bones poking through my skin I just might have to quit early). If necessary I'll get off and push my bike the last 20 miles. Carry it, if needed. The only thing I don't know for certain is the time I'll be out there that day ("long") and the way I'll feel afterward ("tired" "sore" "crappy" "relieved").

Tomorrow I'll know if this mid-ride meltdown thingie is a pattern, or if it was just something during the the past 3 long rides. I've warned co-riders, coaches and captains to ignore me if it happens, and to leave me alone until I get over it. I'm looking forward to seeing the Half Moon Bay area, to riding along the ocean and through forests and fields and up hills and down hills and all over the place. Tonight before I fall asleep (if I actually fall asleep) I'll do visualization and imagery and see myself having a fabulous ride. That should translate to a great time Saturday. That's what I'll keep telling myself.

Weneedtherain weneedtherain weneedtherain

I am officially tired of the rain. Over and over again I tell myself that I like showering and I like to water my lawn in the summer and the reservoirs are dry and the snowpack is meager, but a couple of weeks of cold rain are making it very hard to be happy with the wet. The timing of this weather is bad, but I suppose for people who like to recreate (or work) outside it's never good.

Our planned 65 mile ride at Half Moon Bay was canceled. While I wasn't too upset about not having to get out of bed at 4am, I was totally displeased that we'd miss the mileage. Truly, I thought it was a wimpish decision to cancel on Friday afternoon without knowing exactly what was going to happen on Saturday. Since it ended up being very very ugly, but not rainy, on Saturday morning, I think we could have done at least most of the ride. We wouldn't have been particularly happy about it because it was cold, windy and overcast, but we could have gotten in the miles. Wusses.

Speaking of wusses, Bree and I decided to get in at least some miles on our own. We rode from my house to the staging area of Las Trampas, a ride I remember as being very uphill and very difficult. Imagine my surprise when the "big hill" at the end seemed to be more of a sharp incline. I still managed to drop my chain, but once we fixed it (it had gotten stuck, again, and was hard to extricate) I just zoomed up the "hill." It's probably just in comparison with the real hills we've been riding, because although I knew I was going uphill, it was so much easier than the many many times I've ridden that way before.

We wanted to ride to the bike shop to see if they could adjust my chain but the sky got darker, it got windier, we got concerned and turned around a mile short of the shop. We didn't want to get caught out in a downpour but we needn't have worried, no rain came until much later in the day.

I was very productive the rest of the weekend but didn't manage another real ride because of the weather. I did some time on the trainer (I can't believe how uncomfortable my old bike is) but not the hours in the saddle that I need. Our century is in 4 weeks. That's 4 weeks, people! Only enough time for the previously planned 65 miler in Half Moon Bay, the 80 miler in Marin and a taper 50ish miler in the East Bay somewhere. If any of those get rained out, which is possible now that winter has finally arrived, I'm in trouble. Yes, I've done a couple of 50ish milers but you can't go from 50 miles to 100. That would be like saying hey, I've run a half marathon a couple of times, lets go run a marathon next week.

I'm concerned.

Thoughts on a wet Friday

Anyone else who thinks all this rain we're having is the fault of the Amgen Tour of California raise their hand. Yep, I see lots of hands waving out there. It can't be a coincidence that we've been dry as baby powder all winter and now that we have teams of professional cyclists speeding along our roads, we also have winter storm warnings. While in theory I'd find the racers slogging through an errant California snow storm amusing, in fact I'm not too thrilled about it. Especially since I look to be one of those slogging (not a racer mind you, just a slogger). I've been looking forward to our Half Moon Bay ride all season and now it looks like it'll be soggy, at best. Fingers crossed for a break in the weather on Saturday. And for a patch of sunshine to lead the pro boys along the roads all week.

It's come to my attention that today is Friday the 13th. Ooooooh, spooooky. Actually, not. I don't have superstitions, I have phobias instead. I'm much more likely to tiptoe around a cow than I am to avoid walking in front of a black cat. I don't have a lucky -- well, a lucky anything, now that I think of it. I don't knock on wood and I don't throw spilled salt over my shoulder. I don't walk under ladders but that's because I don't want anyone dropping a bucket of paint (or a box of nails) on my head. A date on a calendar doesn't mean much to me and if something goes wrong today, it'll have nothing to do with Friday the 13th.

It has also, quite forcibly, come to my attention that tomorrow is Valentine's Day. There's no way to avoid it if you (1) listen to the radio, (2) watch television, (3) step inside any type of store, or (4) get email spam. Even when I was in a relationship I wasn't impressed with the day, created by retailers to sell pink and red stuff and shiny and sweet stuff. Now, since I love red things I've normally been able to pick up something for around the house in my colors, but my house is full and I don't need anything else, red or not. (Heh, I typed that "read" and yes, I buy lots of things that need to be "read.")

V-Day doesn't make me sad I'm single, doesn't make me long for romance and flowers and la-di-dah. What it does is create obstacles to my walking into a store. For a bearaholic like me, it's like waving a bottle of scotch (or vodka, or rum or tequila) in front of an alcoholic. Stores are filled with bears. Red bears, pink bears, little bitty bears, bit honkin' bears, cute bears, dainty bears, overbearing bears, bears bears bears. I'm trying so hard to limit my bear buying to medal bears and its --- so --- hard --- to --- resist. I've been strong, so far.

This week has been a wash, exercise-wise. I only took off a couple of days, but the days I did things, they weren't necessarily the things that are on my training schedule. I can't stress enough how much I miss having a running buddy, someone that I feel obligated to meet up with, someone who makes an hour run flow past like minutes. I've never had much get-up-an-g0 and on dark, cold, damp evenings I have much less. Throw in several nights in a row with little or no sleep, and I just want to curl on the couch with a blankie and a good book or my knitting. Not good for conditioning, not good for health, not good for weight control. Oh well, maybe next week I'll do better.

Just beyond 60

This is the profile of Saturday's ride.

Although 60 was how old I felt after my ride on Saturday, it actually refers to my mileage. We keep increasing week by week and 5 Saturdays from now we'll be at 100. Oy.

My ride on Saturday was long, hard and hilly. The end.

What? More detail is requested? All righty then. My ride on Saturday was long, hard, hilly and absolutely beautiful. The end.

More? Fine. My ride on Saturday was long, hard, hilly and absolutely beautiful. Our team met bright and early in Robertson Park in Livermore. I was looking forward to this ride for a couple of reasons. It was very close to home, travel time being less than a half hour in each direction. That meant staying in bed a bit longer and getting home earlier. It was also almost entirely on one road, thus lessening the chance of my getting lost. During the week I did lots of visualization and imagery to help me keep focused and happy on the ride. Didn't work too well.

We headed out in a nice tight paceline which was ok, but I'm still not used to riding with several of those women and I don't particularly trust all of them enough to just go with the flow. I was concentrating not only on the woman directly in front of me, but the women in front of her and the one directly behind me. Because of this I didn't take a drink for the first half hour or so of the ride, not a great idea.

After we turned onto Mines Road we stopped while Coach Beth gave us a few hints for the hills ahead. I took off my jacket and glove liners knowing I'd start sweating soon enough. Our nice paceline blew all to hell after about five pedal revolutions, all of us proclaiming that no no, I'm the slowest and have to go to the back. As it turned out, I was truly one of the slowest and remained at the back.

On the very steepest hills I can out ride a few in our group, but otherwise most of them are faster on the flats, the lesser inclines and definitely on the declines. I didn't have to worry too much about the declines on the outward direction though; they were few and far between until the last 5 miles. I remembered to eat my Pop Tarts and my gels, remembered to drink, remembered to look at the gorgeous scenery around me. Easy to look around when I'm spinning along at about 5 mph uphill. Not as easy when I'm trying to turn the pedals while my eyeballs burst out of my head on the steep hills.

I never had to walk but I did take momentary stops at the top of several of the hills, to catch my breath and return my heart rate to something approaching normal. It was very challenging but I was doing fine. My happy mood from the start was getting a little soured, but I was ok. Ok even when we rode past the little baby cow ("little" being relative, of course) in the middle of the road, bleating for his mommy cow. I had a bit of an adrenaline spike, but nothing like last week when the cow was grazing in my bike lane. I continued on until our turnaround at the 30 mile mark. I was tired, not looking forward to the next few miles of steep uphills, but doing ok.

At this point I lost most of the rest of the team. I knew they were out there, knew there were people not too far ahead of me and not too far behind me, but climbing was very much an individual pursuit. At one point on one of the steepest inclines a teammate passed me on the hill and told me "take deep breaths through your nose" and seriously, I felt like punching her since my nose had been both stuffed and dripping since about mile one. If I took a deep breath through my nose I would have had snot shooting out my ears. Er, sorry for that visual. So in my breathless state I just replied "nose is stuffed" and waited for her to pass me.

My mood plummeted between miles 35 and 40. We had another rest stop at mile 40 and I had my weekly meltdown. I don't know what's causing them, but they've happened each damn week for the past month. I was fighting tears and weepily told our captain that I just couldn't see riding another 60 miles. She quizzically corrected me and said I only had another 20, but I tearily stuttered "I m-m-m-mean in 5 w-w-w-weeks at S-s-s-Solvang!" Poor woman, I fell apart on her last week too and I just couldn't help myself. I felt miserable and my pity party burst into full celebration.

I couldn't hang around there too long because I just didn't want to be around people. I knew the rest of the ride was generally downhill with only a few uphills and a couple of grades. Still, it was 20 more miles and at that point my overall average was about 8 mph (damn hills). I wasn't in the mood for 3 more hours on a bike and I was dreading the whole thing.

As I rode along my mood and my energy gradually improved and I actually started feeling ok. I continued to eat, continued to drink, continued to pedal. I told myself that I could take a break at each hour mark but no more frequently than that. I really started to pay more attention to my surroundings, to the gorgeous hills and fabulous scenery around me. There were a lot of white-knuckle descents that I didn't enjoy too much, but for the most part I could just pedal easily along.

I realized it was great being out there and hearing just the three W's: wind, wheels and wheezing. Even riding easily my breathing wasn't very good. I had hoped that the rain would have cleared the air, and that being in the middle of nowhere there would be no wood smoke, but I was wheezing nonetheless. Around mile 50 I just stopped caring and started having a great ride again.

When I reached the end of Mines Road I realized that I had to follow the map back to Robertson Park. Uh-oh. Luckily there were signs so even though I wasn't sure if it was the way we were supposed to go, I could get back there. My mileage when I reached the parking lot was short so I continued down the road until my odometer read 60 and then headed back. I was glad to finish and except for being exhausted and sore, I was feeling remarkably chipper and good.

So I don't know what's with the meltdowns in the middle of each of my rides. I don't think it was a hydration or blood sugar or hunger thing since I'm pretty certain I was doing well in those areas. It could just be something I'll have to realize will happen and deal with and try to convince myself that I'll come out of it a hour later. It's embarrassing as hell to fall apart in front of not only my teammates and the support crew, but also in front of two of our injured who I'm sure would give anything to change places with me and be out on a bike. I don't like being the pain-in-the-ass on the team and as we all know I don't like being a stand-out in any way. Having very public breakdowns is not a good way to stay anonymous. I've been trying to keep it to myself, but it's obvious that I'm having trouble and the simple kindness of the people around me make them want to try to help me. Hopefully I'll be better at hiding it if it happens again.

My recovery this week is going quite well. My body is responding well to the abuse training and I'm hoping to get in a couple of good workouts this week. I'm looking forward to (and scared to bits by) a new location on Saturday: Half Moon Bay here I come!

Intervals

Since I joined the TnT cycle team back in November, 12 weeks ago (has it really been that long?) I've been working diligently to keep up with the training schedule. Not just the weekly teams rides on Saturdays, I've been trying to follow the schedule during the week too. It hasn't been easy and up until now I haven't accomplished much.

There have been several impediments. First, I didn't have a way to do intervals until I received and set up my new trainer. Then, I caught the cold from hell that wouldn't go away for weeks and didn't leave me with enough lung power to exercise. In the middle of that was the holiday season messing up schedules. Then our longer weekend rides started and the seat on my new bike caused so much pain that I couldn't sit on a bike seat except for the necessary long rides, and even that was agony.

That's not to say I've been sitting on my ass all week, I just haven't done what I'm supposed to do. I've been running (a little), walking (a little), cross-training (a little) and doing core exercises regularly (that counts for something, right?). I'm just afraid it hasn't been enough to get me through 100 miles so now I'm going to start following the schedule. Better late than never! I still have 5 weeks to build a little additional endurance and strength. Holy Bike, Batman! Only 5 weeks!

Last night I decided it was time to try out my fancy-schmancy trainer that I bought at the beginning of the season. Except for trying to see if I could sit on the bike between weekend rides, I haven't used it at all. I looked at the schedule and saw we were set for intervals; 20 minute warmup, 4 x (5 hard/2 easy), 20 minute cool down. Since this was my first set of intervals I decided to change that to 3 x (3 hard/2 easy) so as not to kill my self on the first outing.

The first thing I discovered is that my old bike is horribly uncomfortable; it doesn't fit me in the slightest. I have the old bike on the trainer since why wear out the pretty new one. I had no idea how much difference a well-fit bike makes. There just wasn't a good way to ride comfortably. I'm thrilled that I bought the new bike; there's no way I could have ridden the old one for 100 miles without being all crippled up afterward. How I ever used to ride 100k rides all summer I'll never know (of course, I was 10 years younger then ...).

So I ignored the discomfort of the bike, turned on the television and pedaled away. Imagine my surprise when I finished that workout and was soaking wet and pooped. Good grief, it was harder even than running intervals around a track, harder than climbing a hill. My legs were fatigued, my arms were fatigued, my teeth were fatigued. Uh, maybe that's why they're such a good idea, right?

As much as I want to run a couple of times a week I think I'm going to have to do as much of the bike training as my sit bones will allow. I don't think I can cycle 2 days in a row, there's still too much sitpain. So for the regular mid-week ride I'll run, then do the scheduled intervals around that, building up to the correct number of sets and times. Five weeks isn't much, but I'll get it done.