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This wasn't my idea.
But I thought it was a good one nevertheless.
The advertisement idea came on a rather mundane spur of the moment ride last Saturday afternoon. The ride was slow and uneventful. We spent the majority of our time waiting at crosswalks between sections of the Delta Dianza Trail. Again, the camera came along, and I was fooling around with the video. Taking a random clip of the ride, I panned past pastor who blurted out my blog address. I guess he assumed he had a better chance of getting posted that way. Not really, but in this case it worked, and we staged the shot.

A side note...
Tim gets the Hero Jersey for this ride, as he rode the majority of the ride with his wheel rubbing the chainstay, and unable to shift the front derailleur. I'm strongly recommending some basic maintenance. Hey, oil your chain while you're at it too.

For this accomplishment, we gave him the body builder role in the Ad.





Yeah, I know it's corny.
A little grainy too - anyone want to buy me a new camera?
Let me know and I'll send you my list of specs.
Don't worry. I promise to keep my day job.

Running Again

For those of us with real jobs, staying in top form by cycling year round is practically impossible.
For reasons stated and well developed in other posts, and for that matter, probably within the realm of common sense for most, cycling in the dark (the only time left over after working all day) is ill advised. Don't get me wrong - I do it, and others say it can be done safely, but it does make the long afternoon training rides inconvenient at best.

I shot the above pictures from my mobile phone at the top of Briones Regional Park while out on a run with Vince and Moses. (The view Tuesday evening was stunning, and I had to attempt to capture it.) We had just run to the Briones Peak from the upper parking area via some narrow, winding, and rather steep single track. Upon reaching the peak, we met 2 MTB'ers preparing to go down the same section of trail. As we came up, the trail was already dimming, so we watched with concern as these 2 descended the way we had come - with no lights. We're not sure exactly what happened, but still within our hearing, someone evidently tumbled, and then through the trees we spotted them walking the bikes.

We feel that running in the dark is marginally safer than cycling in the dark.

After an hour of running (4 -5 miles depending on the terrain, 2-3 times per week) we feel like we've married enough O2 molecules and red blood cells to maintain till the days lengthen.

Running is rewarding. I enjoy it thoroughly -especially the trail running with friends, and it's relatively cheap compared to cycling. For just over $100 one can purchase a good pair of running shoes, and be completely equipped for a year's workout. (This assumes one has at least one pair of shorts and a t-shirt.) Yes it can hurt. I went through several months of pain last year, learning how to stretch. The lesson was, stretch every morning and night, and before and after runs. I now rarely have lasting or noticeable muscle or joint pain, and wake up without the neck and back aches that plagued me for many years.

I will resist drawing the endless correlations between this type of productive physical exertion with its inherent benefits, and other aspects of life. Suffice to say; Everyone should learn to embrace the experience of massive amounts of air being processed by burning lungs. It's what they were designed to do.
And, it never occurs while sitting in front of a television. Or, while typing at a computer for that matter - gotta go...

MTB Mt. D

The video I uploaded was taken by Chris’ camera. I put together a movie with music, of this ride, and if any Hollywood producers are interested, I can send a DVD. But frankly I'm not interested in a Hollywood job so - hold the calls.

What I am interested in is a new camera. Still holding out for a donation to the Cycling Through Blog. The video of the Diablo MTB ride was all taken by Chris' camera, which is far superior to my own. Mine, clunky though it may be, takes fine pictures. The video however is worse than what you get from some cell phones.

This particular ride was intended to be a grand event culminating in a festival of colors and fans. We hoped to descend into Mitchell Canyon on the north side of Diablo, to waves of applause and cheers. I put it this way in an email to Chris...

"I’m CC’ing Bec on this, so that the social calendar can be perused for a date in October for the “Conquering of Mt. Diablo via Dirt Trails, and Subsequent Admiration of Conquerors and Steeds Amidst a Forest Banquet Under the Embracing Limbs of Mitchel Canyon’s Majestic Oaks.” (That’s a concise yet descriptive name I decided to give this proposed event.)"

The occasion was later renamed the COMDVDTASAOCASAAFBUTELOMCMO by Chris, in an effort to reduce the amount of time it was taking to plan this ride. Delay, and postponement was the general trend over the next month. The rains came. It got colder. We survived another election - like it or not. Chris didn't get to sue anyone over election fraud. (Yes he's a snake, er Attorney) And, finally a Saturday opened up in November. The Almighty scheduled the rain for late in the day, and we jumped on the opportunity.

7:30, Vince, Chris, and I, headed out from Shell Ridge Open Space in Walnut Creek. My Father in law, visiting from Michigan - or actually for the next few months, Florida - delivered Chris and I to the starting line. He then nursed a few coffee cups and waited at the far side of Mt. D.
(I owe him a huge THANK YOU for this service)

The ride was pleasant. The air, though a bit humid, was cool enough for windbreakers and leg warmers, but warmed slowly through the morning. We obviously spent the majority of the morning climbing. We started at approx. 280', climbed to 3849', then descended to approx. 600'.

The climbing felt good and was far from my worst or hardest ascent of that mountain. The company is always helpful, and Chris, not having ridden at all in the past months, ensured that the pace would be manageable. The windbreakers weren’t on for long, as the steady climb caused the heat to rise off our bodies in a nearly visible vapor. We stopped periodically – as needed to ensure our successful arrival at our initial destination – the top.

Two events of note took place.

First, Vince lost a pedal. Approx. an hour and a half into the ride, we noticed strange noises coming from Vince’s bike. With chagrin, Vince noted that this would be the last ride for his pedals. It felt as if the bearings were going out. No problem, since he had a brand new pair – at home. Within a few minutes the grinding noises seemed to dissipate, or at least I failed to notice them.

On a rutted section of the track we were following I soon came across a black bicycle pedal laying on the trail. Upon further inspection it was noted that just beyond the pedal were a mountain bike, missing similar accoutrement, and one rather dejected rider. What to do? In typical form and poise, Vince slid the pedal back onto the stud, Sans Bearings, and rode on. He found that with minimal inward pressure, the pedal would stay in place as he climbed.

Several more times the pedal was retrieved with good humor all around. We were all aware of the –shall we say – inconvenience of a pedal loss on one of the more technical downhill sections. By God’s grace this didn’t happen. As a matter of fact, I was the only one to biff. Technical miscalculation at approx. 15 mph. Sure beats a TM at 35 mph.

The second of two notable events occurred simultaneous to our ascent.

Somewhere near the bottom we passed a gentleman beset with backpack and water bottle. We remembered with slight embarrassment, the 2 joggers that had paced us sometime last summer on a short section of the same trail. Each time we had reached a summit and the last of our group finally reached the top, those joggers were there in the mix. We noted this anomaly with contempt over our past weakness. We blasted by, leaving him to covet the efficiency of inflatable tires and gear ratios.

The trail we chose is steep. We rested as needed at the various summits. We consumed our chosen hydration and caloric replenishments. We took pictures of the incredible vistas, and of each other overcoming great obstacles and climbing intense grades. We were passed by a gentleman with a backpack and water bottle.

We stopped less and rode more. We navigated stretches of trail that seemed to end on top of great fluffy cumulus. We rested again, and he passed us again.

Within a couple miles of the peak , wolverine like, he caught our scent again. We gave up hope. From here, his trail – from which bikes were banned from that point on – was more direct. We had no chance.

You will understand that it is with no small amount of dread that I expose this account. I was sworn to secrecy concerning this embarrassment. I was to bury it.

My conscience would not allow it. So here you have the stark reality of the ride. Someone on foot beat us to the top of the mountain.

Our one consolation – He was chauffeured to the bottom in a car, while we rocketed over the back side.

He beat us to the top, but we got to pick more bugs out of our teeth. So there.

3.5 hours to the top – 40 min. to the bottom. Yeeeee Hah.

Rained out - Or not

So it's pouring rain today.
We were supposed to ride to our church's monthly Saturday prayer breakfast this morning. The plans had been formulated over the past month and finalized last night via text message.
We were: Pastor, Tim, Dave, Dale, Rick, and myself.
I woke up at 5:45 to start my day with a cup of very black coffee and the book of Psalms. I looked outside to check the weather - but didn't need to. The rain was pounding on the skylight over the dining room. By 6:00 I was fingering my phone to send a text message retraction. At 6:09 I pulled the trigger.
It promptly stopped raining. I went back to bed.
7:30 - No sound other than my coffee heating up and my flipping pages through the Psalms.
8:00 - I arrive at the breakfast in my truck. No rain since 6:10.
11:00 - return home in my truck and still no rain, call Dave, decide to ride later in the afternoon.
12:00 - the bottom falls out.

So here I sit, periodically looking at the National Weather Service web site and watching the radar indicate the mass of intense color moving away from my city. I'm waiting for Dave to get here so we can dodge raindrops. I've pulled out the lights, since it is getting late. We will return home in the dark, and likely soaked. The worst of the rain has slowly retreated for nearly 45 minutes now, during which time I have anxiously watched the clock and receding daylight hoping he gets here soon. The sky indicates that the bucket is not empty.
There he is now. Here goes...



24 Hours later...




We got soaked.
3 miles out the rain started up again. For several miles the bucket merely leaked a little at the edges and frankly provided a cool distraction for our warming bodies.
Then the bottom fell out again.

By the time we reached the brick yard on the Carquinez Scenic Highway, we were avoiding massive puddles and small rivers. Much of this "highway" has been washing down the cliffs toward the Carquinez Straight for many years. In places, great craters have replaced the outside lane. This middle section (about 2 miles) is permanently closed to vehicular traffic, but is a favorite, beautiful destination for hikers, runners, and cyclists. We were not alone in the rain and the drab gray scenery. Several with dogs, others just walking and one other cyclist met us along the way. We were all soaked, smiling, and pleasant.

It was a wonderful experience. A tug boat was docked far below and a hundred yards out bobbing and pulling gently at its constraints. Besides that lonely vessel, the surface was void. Lights from the distant shore strained to pierce the hanging mist and now driving rain. It's strange - the abstract places and conditions that provide beauty. It was beautiful to me anyway.

Our ride back through town was blinding. The rain was coming down so hard, that it felt as if a waterfall had formed over my head and was washing down my face. It was all but completely dark, and our small lights were no competition.

We were met at the door with towels.

Ah, the hot shower, a movie sitting beside my wife on the couch, bean burritos, and ice cream.
The bleakness sure makes the mundane seem heavenly.

It's like the cliche: Win - Win situation.
I love the ride whether it be cold, fatiguing, wet, exhilarating or all of the above. But maybe more than that, I love remembering the ride. Remembering it while holding a piping hot cup of jet black coffee and a bedtime story, - snuggling on the couch with my two favorite women.