Good Time On Mt. Diablo

Basically just another day of riding.
I really wanted to ride up Mt. Diablo last Saturday. Well, actually I really wanted to ride MTB at Hole in the Ground, but that fell through about as fast as it was suggested. Vince and I were disappointed at the missed opportunity, but decided to meet and ride road bikes instead.

Vince was meeting some friends at 7:30am, but I wanted an earlier start. A short Tour de Martinez started around 6:45, and finished with me at the Park and Ride to meet Vince and a new rider named Steve. We ventured out steadily on our way around the Crocket Loop.
We took it easy for most of the loop, but, typical for Vince and I, rode the loop opposite of convention. Most riders make a right at McEwen Rd. and descend the steep winding serpentine down to the Carquinez Scenic Hwy. Ever since I've been riding with Vince, we have passed by that turn, and ridden the loop in "reverse" choosing rather to climb McEwen Rd. I've descended that stretch in the past, and arrived at the base with very hot brakes. The opposite direction, a descent on Crocket Blvd. into Crocket from Cummings Skyway, however, is a long sweeping arc of a couple miles, where you can recover from the slow climb, which you've been nibbling away at from the minute you left the parking lot.

All of that being said, our ride actually didn't take us down Crocket Blvd. either, but rather we passed by and crossed I80 turned right on San Pablo Ave. and came into Crocket from the West. We then made a left hand turn on the bike / walk path and crossed the Carquinez strait via the new Alfred Zampa Memorial Bridge (See www.ketchum.org/carquinez.html for some more information about this bridge. I take no credit for it. I just found it while surfing.) and rested on the far side, in a small park overlooking the frigid water. The morning was relatively clear when we started in Martinez, but at the strait emptying the Sacramento River delta into San Pablo and San Francisco bays ,the sky was overcast and the air chilled. We watched as 3 sailboats motored out into the bay for what was destined to be a stellar day of sailing.

Several minutes later we re-crossed the bridge leaving Vallejo for Crocket and the notorious climb up McEwen Rd. The climb was the same as always. And that’s the thing about hills. They’re pretty constant. The weather changes and your own preparation for the hill varies, but the hill just sits there and waits. It waits and others like me come back time and again for more of its punishment.

The top of McEwen is basically the beginning of the end of the loop. The final 4.5 miles is all downhill to one extent or the other, and much of it is long, straight, wide road where a pace line can aid a relatively strong group of riders along at around 30 mph.

The day’s group of 3 then split up; Vince and Steve heading home, and myself pursuing my need for some quality time with a nearby mountain. The air was still cool, though slowly warming, and my energy level was still quite high, considering the nearly 35 miles behind me. Still holding a grudge from 2 weeks back, my sights were set on Mt. Diablo. The psychological cruise control activated, and I followed the west side of the Diablo valley through Pleasant hill, and then crossed the valley through Walnut Creek. 30 minute’s ride put me at the base of Mt. D. and 45 miles in. I was ready. The low level pain had already begun in my quadriceps and lower back, but my entire cardiovascular system was thriving in the cool clear mid morning air.

Slowly but surely was the goal. Another goal to be missed. There’s something about being on the road with other cyclists that drives me. 2 bikes on a rack passed by shortly before reaching the base of the mountain. They were just beginning to remove the bikes from the car as I passed them. Nice bikes. Good riders ride nice bikes. No way. Not today. Not getting passed today. Surely, without slowly started to happen. The Ranger Station at mile 8 came faster than typical, but with a price. There was enough left to make the top, but that nagging doubt began. Are they catching up? I didn’t stop at the ranger station, but pushed for the summit.

The initial pull away from the ranger station can be invigorating. The other cyclists sitting there resting are forced to watch as you pass by with obvious disregard. That alone is enough to force a good performance – at least around the first corner. After that it’s back to work – psychologically more than physically. It was several minutes into that workout that I was passed by a slow moving motorcycle with a man and woman riding. I noted the woman filming their progress up the mountain on a digital camera, and was mildly humored by the fact that much of my progress was being captured. Duly noted also was their return trip several minutes later with the same camera and similar attention to my progress. Humor turned to annoyance as this same couple again approached me from the rear with unnecessary interest. Only then did I realize I recognized the girl on board as Rachel – Vince’s Rachel. Logic then registered the driver as Vince and everything began to shake out in my fatigue numbed cranium. They were the redeemers of my ride. The motivation to pursue a strong finish had just been driven upward.

I did finish well – all things considered. 1 hour 16 minutes to the top from North Gate. My goal is to finish in under 1 hour some day, but after 55 miles of riding, I was not disappointed. I also didn’t get passed by anything without a motor.

They filmed several more minutes and caught a number of still images of my ascent, and then awaited my arrival at the top. I’ve included the final minutes of my climb at the beginning of this post. Vince was particularly interested in filming my descent, which he did at no small risk to him and his bike. I fear Rachel may have been in harm’s way also. The footage of the descent is not included, lest my mother fly out here and burn my bike; however, the film is available for local viewing. Vince collated much of his video and stills into a superb DVD. Who’s that skinny guy on a bike? Thanks again Vince.

The ride ended back at home with 81 miles.

Week #32 - Still Cycling

My Buddy Jeremy and his feather light bike.













Lillie, Bec, and Ella.
Katie is hiding and riding.



















The biggest crowd I've ever ridden with.
(Not everyone is in the picture)







I managed 4 rides this week.
My first 2 were the now typical, ride home and then back to work. On my ride home I incorporated a series of climbs which we refer to as the "3 Bears". Rather than making the left off San Pablo Dam Rd at Castro Ranch Rd., I proceeded to climb up SPD Rd. and turn left at Bear Creek Rd.
The 3 bears part comes from the notion that there are 3 separate climbs on this road. It is my opinion that someone can't count. Each time I ride the road, I begin counting hills, and eventually pass the number 3. If there were 3 distinctly difficult climbs, I would likely have resolved the issue with that, however, there are really only 2 that will eat your lunch. On my most recent pass through this stretch, I again began counting. At least 4 distinct climbs faced me heading north. I established that the first climb is Papa Bear. This hill is notable because it hurts. I sat in 1st and 2nd gear for the duration, and got out of the saddle on numerous occasions to stretch my legs. (To those unfamiliar with cycling terms, "out of the saddle" doesn't mean I walked the bike, it means I was standing on the pedals, rather than sitting on the seat.)
That morning, my friend Jeremy, had invited me to run with him, and so I did. My jaunt was about 2.5 - 3 miles after a relatively long sabbatical from running. My calf muscles began to remember the morning's surprise, somewhere near the middle of Papa Bear. I coasted over the crest, and geared up for the descent, which proved rewarding. The base of that side of the hill coincides with the entrance to Briones Regional Park, where I have often ridden. (MTB)
The climb up Baby Bear was to ensue. I caught and passed another rider at this point, at which time we exchanged formalities, and verbalized our disdain for the day's head wind. Baby Bear has brothers. Several more moderate climbs ensued before I encountered the matriarch of the sleuth.
Though Mama Bear was indeed the second hardest climb of the group, it in no way compares to Papa. What Mama does have though, is an awesome backside. I peaked out at 50 mph, but could easily have gotten far more if it were not for the cramps that kept gnawing at my calves. The incredible rpm's needed at the bottom bracket to force speeds over 50 mph require a lot of nerve and cooperation from all of the muscles in the leg. My muscles were were not cooperating and frankly my calves were close to going on strike. That descent brought me down to Alhambra Valley Rd. where the route typically passes on the ride home. A right turn and an ascent of Pig Farm hill ended the climbing. The ride ended with a time of _____ and an average speed of _____. Sorry, forgot to look - but it wasn't all that good.
The following morning though, did bring my best time riding in to the office. 1 hour 12 minutes.

Tuesday afternoon I managed to assemble a mob.
It started with Jeremy and I wanting to ride again this week, after our disappointingly short journey last week. I kept his bike at my house (He lives and pastors a church in Lakeport) and we were to connect at Castle Rock and ride a rather tame, yet enjoyable trail through the Diablo foothills (See my post from 5/26/08). The creek that this trail follows is unfortunately dry at this time of year, with the exception of some rather stagnant pools, which are wisely avoided.
I then invited Andrew and Lisa, a young dating couple from our church. Lisa would hike with Bec and Jeremy's wife Amy. I invited my project manager, and fellow outdoor enthusiast Rick, who invited Vince and Phylis (not sure of the spelling). Realizing that he had not ridden with us in a while, and that this was a favorite trail of his, I also invited Dave, who ended up bringing Lillie and Katie to hike with the women. Oh yeah, Ella came too. You can count, I lost track.
We all finally arrived around 5:40 for a 5:00 start time. Vince exercised immense patience, as he was on his bike ready to ride before 5.
Dave took a dive and bloodied his nose within the first mile. His helmet will be replaced. I heard the grumbling and initial impact and turned around in time to see the conclusion of a splendid dive over the handlebars. We then proceeded on a relatively uneventful ride with the ladies following our trail of dust.
The majority of us guys tested our adrenaline and testosterone levels on a short steep climb. All who attempted the climb were rewarded with the view of another hill at the top of that hill. We rode back down. Vince and I continued up the trail for nearly another mile, after descending Testosterone hill, while the balance of the group began the return trip. They moved rather slowly as we expected, and we caught back up to them mere seconds after they had rendezvoused with the women and children. We were both riding very fast, as the return trip is a long gentle descent, and we were intent on catching the group. Vince led into the mob and performed a splendid front wheelie while screeching to halt in the midst of the group. His rear wheel was easily 18" - 24" off the ground for several seconds. (Yes mom, that is a good thing)
Not to be out done, I likewise showed my disregard for the applicable laws of thermodynamics, and grabbed my front brake. Likewise I slowed rapidly and rose up onto my front wheel, and for nearly a week and a half suspended my bike in a vertical position - rear wheel pointing skyward. Somewhere near the second week, I should have released my grip on the front brake lever. Whether I forgot, or merely failed to remember - it frankly doesn't matter at this point. I entered week 2 face first on the dusty trail. Ah yes, my friends all assembled to watch me dust off my shorts and shirt. However, I got a 5 year old high 5 from a little girl who had just taken a dive herself. We were twins.
Dave felt much better too.

Today, Saturday, I met Rick on the same trail. I left from my house on my mountain bike, and was late again. A few adjustments to the bike, and a fierce headwind put me about 20 minutes behind schedule. The snooze button had added another 10.
I had warned Rick via text message of my tardiness, so he had headed out on the trail, where I caught him a few miles in. We rode and talked, and enjoyed a relaxed morning among the oaks.
On the return trip, we parted company, and I looped around through Shell Ridge open space to finish off my dirt trail riding. From there I picked up the Iron Horse trail system, and the canal trails which wound me toward home. Total today was around 30 miles.

Diablo worst - & - Ride to work 2

All of these pictures and images are copied from the internet or from Google Earth. The bottom picture was downloaded from a local cycling club site. If you zoom in on the picture you can see the section marked 18% grade - yeah ouch.








Like the title says - I managed my worst time up Mt. Diablo last Friday. (3,849' - And since my house sits at 36', I get to climb most of that.)
I was energized all day looking forward to my afternoon ride. My plan was to get home by 2:00, jump on my road bike, ride to, and then up the mountain, ride down, meet some friends, and then ride together toward home. I got a later than desired start in the afternoon, having spent more time in the office than I wanted. I left the house at around 3:00 and made it to the base of the mountain by 3:45. I noticed on the way there that the mountain was barely visible through the afternoon heat waves, but was so intent on my ride that I didn't give it the attention I should have. I started my climb with vigor. My desire was to get my best time up the mountain that afternoon, and then brag about it to my friends. I had eaten right all day, and hydrated well. My muscles were poised and ready. Unfortunately my lungs were not ready. Somewhere nearby a grass fire was sucking the oxygen out of the air, and filling the valley with smoke.

The first part of the climb is typically the hardest for me. Though not the steepest part of the climb, the first few miles ascend rather abruptly, and my muscles take a few minutes of that to settle into the grind. I climbed through the first 500 - 600 feet before I realized I had a problem. I began to be very distracted, and my skin began to tingle and feel like it was going to shed right off my body. I slowed my faster than usual pace and attempted a recovery from what I realized was a pending "blow up". I couldn't shake it. I rode some of the more miserable miles I've ever logged as I climbed slowly. At the 1000' marker I considered turning around and heading home. I couldn't bring myself to cut and run, however, so I proceeded very slowly all the way to the ranger station. I met another cyclist there, who had come down and was likewise frustrated at his fatigue. With out allowing myself to get off the bike, I rode circles as we talked, and then headed for the hardest part of the climb. At this point I actually began to feel better. Though the muscle fatigue was finally starting to represent itself in some low level pain, I think I broke through to some oxygen, and was finally able to shake off the tingling.

I have to believe my rapid fatigue was a result of the smoky air, and the upper 90 degree heat.
Neither of those factors are unusual for the Bay Area, and neither have kept me off my bike in the past. But, a combination of the 2, and likely a stroke from the humbling hand of God, made for an unpleasant hour and a half. I called my friends from the top, and told them to go on without me, as I was an hour late.

My time was a frustrating 1 hour and 27 minutes for the 11 miles of actual climbing.
My best time so far was 1 hour and 12 minutes.
I was shooting for under an hour.

When I got back down to the bottom of the mountain I had regained some vigor and drive, and rounded off the ride by taking the long way home including another short climb on Ygnacio Valley road.

Total miles for the day was just over 50.



3 days later (last Monday) I rode home from work again, and bettered my previous week's time by 3 minutes.
Tuesday morning I rode back in to work and bettered the previous week's time by 2 minutes.
I'm not sure why it has consistently taken me around 5 minutes longer to ride the same distance heading west, than it does the night before heading east. Though minor, the actual elevation change is in favor of riding toward the office, and I should be fresh from a good night's rest the night before. Hmm??
I may change up my route home tomorrow and ride over the 3 bears for a change of scenery.