Death Ride 2010

I'm torn as to what to write about today.

The title leads into 2 topics that are forefront in my cognitive meanderings.

1. The death ride for Lance Armstrong's chances in the 2010 Tour de France (and additionally his cycling career) during Sunday's stage 8 in the mountains of France;

And,

2. The 2010 Tour of the California Alps - Death Ride, with which several of my friends and I filled this past weekend.

I suspect I have nothing to add to the myriad of missives now swirling through cycling publications and web sites announcing (some with glee and others with mourning) that arguably the greatest cyclist ever has been dropped from the list of serious contenders in the Tour de France - forever.
Enough of that for now. But I will certainly come back to this in the days and weeks to come.

On to far weightier cycling matters...

The Tour of the California Alps - DEATH RIDE 2010

The 2010 Death Ride began under a crystal clear starry sky and temperatures in the low 50's. But as the sun and temperatures rose, a spectacular azure sky adorned with a handful of auspicious clouds was displayed as can only be fully appreciated against a snow patched sierra backdrop.

Looking down on Markleeville during my 8 mile Friday night "pre-ride"

Milt and Kevin - Sponsors, Mentors, Instigators...

As typical, Milt and Kevin reserved camp sites at the Grover Hot Springs campground and of those invited, Vince, Steve, Kipp and Mardi, and myself joined them on the Friday evening prior to the ride. Milt, Kevin, Vince, and Steve all shared a site, as their departure time was to be 4:30 am, and Kipp, Mardi, and I shared a site, desiring a slightly later start to the ride. The various groups arrived over the course of Friday afternoon. Meals were eaten and shared, while various last minute preparations were made to the bikes, and by 8:00 pm, nearly everyone was turning in for a short night.

Mardi and Kipp

The calm before the storm

First and only flat of the ride - happened to Kipp the night before. Good timing.

I awoke to a bear opening the bear vault that stored our food - or wait, that must have been Steve retrieving his cooler around 3:00 am. (The bear vault at their site was too small for the immense amount of food and drink that eventually accumulated) I rolled over, as best as is possible in a mummy bag, with the goal of another 35 minutes of sleep, but quickly recognized that as an unrealistic goal. Between my ambition for the day, a fear of oversleeping the alarm, and the cackle of grown men at 3 in the morning, I began rolling up the sleeping pad at 3:15 am. Less than an hour later I was washing up in the bathroom when I heard the rattle of a Ford diesel wrench the reverie and listened as my 4 neighbors pulled out of the campground.

4:15am, 15 minutes ahead of schedule, my truck also pulled out of the campground, leaving Kipp and Mardi heating water for coffee. For many hours I feared that a bleary eyed acknowledgment of existence would be my only encounter with them for the whole event. I never saw them on the course; one renowned for it's social aspects.

Kipp and Mardi would claim to be awake in this photo...

While the 4 opted for an early start, Kipp and Mardi chose an extra hour of sleep, and I was hoping to catch some of the early morning festivities at Turtle Rock State Park, the "official" starting place. The "official" starting time for those not sporting lights was 5:30am, but the light in the eastern sky and the vast numbers of riders already speeding away without lights was proving to be too much for me. At 5:10 am I left the band, breakfast, and portable bathrooms behind and joined the mob headed for Monitor Pass. I still don't know what happens at the 5:30am official start, but there couldn't have been too many there to see it, because thousands were already en route.

Following are some highlights, as a full account would be, well, exhausting and boring. For a full account - come along with us next time...

The beginning of a long day

The climb up Monitor pass was uneventful, though I did find company in a gentleman wearing a "California Triple Crown Stage Race" jersey. He had ridden the 3 designated double centuries in 3 consecutive weekends - earning the right to accept praise and admiration for this feat. We parted ways near the summit, and my descent of the back side was a private exercise in meditative awe.

I should have stopped another 1/2 mile down the road for a shot down into the valley. But as I stood there and took the picture, I could hear the exclamations of the riders going by, observing the same beauty I was arrested by.

These guys (a wrestling team I think) provide a moving water refill on the return climb.

I talked momentarily with Kevin as I finally caught up with him on the 2nd climb to Monitor Pass (#2 of 5 summits). He reinforced his concern regarding conditioning, describing some tightness in his back. I have no idea what happened to him after that. He aspired for 4 summits, but I fear I never saw him on either side of Ebbet's. I sincerely hope he made at least 3. Rumor has it that Milt climbed the front side of Monitor and Ebbet's passes without going down the back sides, and then retired to the campground. He is reported to have said, "I'm not sure why I don't always do it this way," probably with a classic Miltonian grin on his face.

Returning to the top of Monitor on the wheel of the 2 riders at left. They were faster than me, but I enjoyed the "pull" they provided in the last mile of the ascent.

Steve and Vince were more elusive quarry. It wasn't until half way up the first side of Ebbett's Pass that the Jolly Roger jersey of Steve came into view. A quick chat with Steve confirmed that I would have to press on to overtake Vince.

I found V. still sporting his hood ornament.

Having bagged both I was back on my way. But the Ebbett's climb was more than I remembered and it nearly bagged me near the top. I ran out of water - having skipped the last water stop and rode the last 3 or 4 miles on the verge of hitting the wall. Stupid.

Up Ebbett's

After collecting my 3rd sticker I stumbled (partly from fatigue, and partly from having to walk around in impossible cycling shoes) over to the food table and began greedily stuffing my face and washing it down with Cytomax. About the time I was feeling myself again, Vince came over the top and we descended together. OK, not really together, because I can't keep up with his descents right now. It seems he is getting faster, and while I'm not exactly slow, I still can't shake the memory of my last crash. Steve joined us at the bottom for a short break, and then we all headed back up.

I did ride with a helmet, though I seemed to always have it off for pictures...

The return to the top of Ebbet's and then down the other side to lunch was enjoyable, as my tanks were full again. I crested the top and followed a couple of riders around the first few corners. One of them was a gal who knew how to descend, and I followed her past numerous riders for several miles. About half way down I wanted to push the envelope a bit further, so I complemented her on a great ride and then pushed ahead in Vincent style. I survived and enjoyed lunch a little more because of it.


We three at lunch together, and then rolled off to the final climb up to Carson Pass.

I pulled a pace line of riders away from the lunch stop, and then dropped onto the back of the train that had formed and rode hard back to where my truck was parked near Turtle Rock Park. Psychologically, this is the start of the final leg toward Carson Pass. I deposited some extra gear at the truck, and having collected Vince and Steve again, headed down for our "shower" at the Woodfords rest stop. The garden hose shower worked wonders for the first few miles of the Carson climb, but alas, evaporated far too soon.

The top of Carson Pass is just over the left motorcyclist's helmet. Almost there...

The Carson climb is long and grueling if you let it be. It was less grueling for me this year, as I focused on taking it at my pace, and carefully selected the groups I wanted to draft with. I actually made good time, by sitting behind some strong riders, but backing away when I knew I had enough. That was really the way the whole day went. When I felt good, I would jump on the wheel of a fast group going by, and sit in till I felt I was going over the top. I was literally pulled over the top of Monitor by 2 guys going significantly faster than I was comfortable with. The added benefit of sitting in their slip stream allowed me to summit in style, and enjoy comments like "wow they're flying" as we zipped by. (This could be part of why I nearly blew up on the Ebbet's climb though.)

Sticker #5

The top was euphoric as the top so often is. No matter where "the top" is at, and no matter how you got there, the feeling of accomplishment is rarely outweighed by any previous discomfort. Vince made good time to the top of Carson, so we waited together for Steve, as I wanted to document this achievement.

5 pass finishers of the Death Ride
#8 for Vince - 8 years straight, going for 10, then says he's going to pull a "Milt"
#2 for me - 9 hours 45 minutes on the bike, next year under 9 hours
#1 for Steve - Decided he was going to finish the 2010 D.R. a year ago, and did!

In the end I finally met up with Kipp and Mardi. They showed up for the post ride meal just as I was wrapping my burrito in plastic for the long drive home. Seems that early morning preparations went a little longer than expected and they ended up riding behind us the entire day. Though I must have passed them at least twice - likely from opposite directions - we never managed to make the connection. 4 passes proved to be enough for them this year, though Kipp graciously noted that Mardi was good for #5.

I arrived home to my girls around 9:30pm. The fans were thrilled, and had all waited up to welcome me home.

Even the small noisy one.

On the Tour... After stage 3

Andy and Fabian

If I was only interested in Lance winning the Tour de France in 2010, then I would have reason to be disheartened. But I'm not. Don't get me wrong - I WANT him to win. He rode exceptionally today in spite of a rather ill timed flat. He out rode his team mates who were supposed to "help" him back into the race. He was a machine out there today.

But he dropped into 18th place after comfortably sitting at 5th at the start of the stage. On the other hand, today was a great day for cycling and the Tour de France. Reading the live report on the internet while trying to write proposals was impossible. I finally gave up on the proposals, and pulled up a crummy live video feed with french announcers and followed the ticker.

Stage 3 was brutal, after 2 previous impossibly brutal stages. The terrain and the competition wasn't the problem, it was the course and the crashes. Rain, cobblestones, miscreant dogs, and narrow winding roads brought the peloton to full alert, and even led the race leaders to stage a mini revolt at the end of stage 2 refusing to participate in the sprint finish.

Today the trouble continued as Frank Schleck broke his clavicle on a later section of cobblestone and flat tires abounded (granted - par for the cobblestone course), and all of that as a large percentage of the top riders bore bandages weeping with fresh wounds, and hiding obviously painful fractures.

But the good news is this - All of the real contenders, excepting Frank Schleck, are still in the race, and really not in bad overall condition. Alberto Contador - the favorite and 2009 winner - is sitting back dangling from the top 10, and Lance is 18th at a couple minutes back. And beyond that, some other great names had an awesome day staying above the fray. Cancellara is back in Yellow, Cadel Evans came out of nowhere and now sits third, and Andy Schleck aided by Saxo-Bank team mate Fabian Candellara is no doubt thrilled at sixth after a disappointing opening time trial.

Read the race report on CyclingNews.com, but grab a towel to wipe the sweat out of your eyes first.
http://www.cyclingnews.com/races/97th-tour-de-france-gt/stage-3/results

Flying Cyclist - Austin, New Orleans

Austin Texas is to cycling, what Florence is to Art. For many cyclists, the only reason for going to Austin, no less Texas, would be for an opportunity to drop in at Mellow Johnny's between pro tours and hope for a glimpse of Lance Armstrong. Granted you won't likely see Michelangelo pedaling around Florence, Italy, but you might actually glimpse Lance in Austin.

Ben, the Flying Cyclist claims not to have seen any professional cyclists during his overnighter in Texas. Unfortunately, the Flying Cyclist doesn't have much choice regarding which cities he rides in. The only real choice is whether or not the bike actually gets to come along. But if you have to get dumped somewhere, then why not in the back yard of the best.

Here is the Austin, TX report...

Here are a couple shots from Austin, TX - taken with my phone so they aren't the best. The first couple are of the plane ride. We had 2 seats out for other luggage so I was able to take my bike without disassembling it - more than can be said about getting it to the airport in my Escort.

The last ones are from the airpark that we flew into north of Austin. In the one showing the airpark sign you can see the ramp behind it, then the runway, then some driveway/taxiways to some of the homes. I could handle that.

The last one shows priorities:

the plane is in the garage and the truck and FJ are in the driveway.

Next stop - New Orleans

Here is the only picture I got in New Orleans. It was taken on the Algiers Ferry. The ferry is a free ride across the Mississippi River from Canal street over to the historic Algiers Point (hence the name I would guess).

As a side note, on the return ferry ride, I was reprimanded by the nice lady from the DOT that opened the gate to the ferry for riding my bike on the ramp to said ferry. I guess that is what the sign meant that said 'Walk Bikes Across Ramp'. It was essentially a metal grate bridge about 400 feet long that was rather difficult to walk on while wearing cycling shoes. So, lest I forfeit my free ride back, I dismounted. As I tripp-trapped across the bridge, my cleat caught on the grate, something shifted, and I heard something splash in the water below - not good. The entire plastic sole that the cleat attaches to had come off my shoe. Fortunately I was able to grab it before more than one car ran over it, but I now had an equipment problem. Could I ride with one cleat functioning and one in my bag or would I forget half way back that the left shoe was not clipped in and take a spill? My answer came as an answer to another question I had asked for the last 15 miles - why did I bring the bag with sandals, shorts, shirt and more? So I changed to the sandals to justify carrying them along. Better than taking a dive on Bourbon Street.

Thanks Ben. Keep us posted.

Oh, and what about a little $15 multi tool to help with those cleats in the future? That would have been way better than compromising your style by wearing sandals with spandex. Next time make sure you have knee high white sport socks if the sandals are employed again.

Le Tour de France - 2010

The Maillot Jaune

Well it's under way again.

Fabian Cancellara surprised no one as he blasted the 8.9 kilometers in exactly 10 minutes, to finish in the maillot jaune.



Lance surprised more than a few however, by besting the 2009 champion by 5 seconds and finishing 4th on the day. Contador will have to drift off to sleep tonight realizing he is trailing his nemesis - in 6th place.

But in a tour that is so often determined by minutes among the best, and hours between the others, a few seconds right now may as well indicate a dead tie.

Andy Schleck

Cancellara will not win the Tour de France, nor is he expected to, but his teammates Andy and Frank Schleck are considered among the favorites for a win, and rode miserably at 1:09 and :57 back respectively. Andy refused comment today, and Frank merely looked forward toward the mountains where the likes of Cancellara will drift toward the rear of the peloton, as will so many other contenders - they hope.

Flying Cyclist - Introduction

It is my intent to add the "Flying Cyclist" as a regular addition to this blog. The "flying cyclist" is my friend Ben who lives in South Carolina. He, like I, was destined to greatness in cycling. Tall, lean, athletic, he like I, could be a spectacular cyclist - if only we could find time to train.

We grew up together in Greenville, SC, home of George Hincapie, the 2009 Pro Championships, and always a stop for the Tour DuPont when it was running. He and I both saw Lance Armstrong in 1994's Tour DuPont in Greenville, and the next morning in North Carolina. My dad drove us up there and encouraged us to get a picture with the up and coming favorite. I'm sure I got an autograph too - Man I wish I still had it... He placed 2nd that year, for the second year in a row, but would go on to win the final 2 runnings of the Tour DuPont in 1995 and 1996 (The year I graduated from High School).

Me and Lance - Check out the bag in the back of the car. Must be George's change of clothes.

Ben and Lance

Ben and I pedaled all over the Greenville county back country trying to look like pros and talk our mothers into letting us shave our legs, but never really had any clue what we were doing. As I write this the stories flood back - but I'll save some of them for later.

So that's Ben and Me.

We are still close friends - on opposite ends of the country. We've ridden together once now in the last 10 years - last year during our family vacation. He hasn't returned to the sport to nearly the extent that I have, but cycling addiction is permanent. It never goes away for good.

Which is why I'm adding this segment of my blog. Cycling is beginning to flow in his veins again, and it is manifesting itself in creative ways.

I think this is the Cessna, he took me up in to do "radio station traffic."

Ben is a Private Pilot flying a variety of small aircraft around the eastern US. Part of the gig is staying overnight or even several nights at a time in random cities waiting for whoever to get done with whatever, so that he can fly them to the next wherever. I've spent many hours chatting on the phone with a bored Ben, wishing he were back home with his wife and 4 kids.

Enter his permanent addiction...
He has begun taking the bike along. I will post his first adventure in a few days. With any luck, he will feed the addiction and provide us with insight regarding cycling in cities across the eastern US.

The Pros - Tour de Suisse

The Tour de Suisse was a classic. The winner was established in the last stage - a Time Trial. The winners were some of the great names we've all followed for years, with a few names at the top completely unfamiliar. The winner himself was surprised at his win.
All of these are things that make us want to follow this great sport.

Frank Schleck

Frank Schleck finished 13th in the final stage, but TT'd well enough to put the yellow jersey on the defensive. Stage racing is that way - you can't get tired. If you do, #4 at 38 seconds back will become #1 by over a minute. Frank did just that.

Lance was #7 coming out of stage 8, down by 55 seconds, but slid comfortably into 2nd place at the end of the big day.


The strong man on day 9 was Tony Martin, of HTC Colombia. Though his performance over the last 2 weeks made winner overall unattainable, he marched around Liestal, Switzerland to the trill of a home town crowd finishing comfortably ahead of the others. No, he's not Swiss, he's German, but the course brought him within 10 kilometers of the Rhine River and the boundary between his home country, Germany, and Switzerland. The colors at the finish line proved his countrymen had shown up too.

What's next?
Well the Tour de France of course. July 3 finds the best of the best in Rotterdam (No not France - but the Netherlands) for the prologue. The first 2 stages stay in the Netherlands before heading south for the next 3 weeks.

Is 2nd in the Tour de Suisse a good sign for Lance or a bad one? I'll let you know in a few weeks.

5x + 112 = 17000

My attempt to include the number 5, my bike, and the summit of Mt. Diablo all in the same picture.

I've been keeping this goal under my hat (or helmet) for the last few months.
I think my wife was the only one who knew I was considering this insanity.

Well, I did it.

In a successful attempt to better last year's Death Ride training ride, I summitted Mt Diablo 5 consecutive times in one day.

112.22 miles
17,040' in elevation gain (Though it's more than that because I did a fair amount of circling back to collect stragglers early in the day.)
Summitted 5 times (3 times up North Gate Rd. and 2 times up South Gate Rd. - not in that order)
12 total hours - 10 hours on the bike.
Started with Mickey, Dianne, Vince, and myself.
Mickey and Dianne both settled for 1 time up to the top, while Vince kindly kept me company and finished strong on the first 3 summits.

A mylar balloon that has made its way from who knows where up to about 1,500 up the mountain side.

Mickey and I arrive at the top first, after a rather lengthy first climb.
(You can see the top of the fog through the corner of the guard rail. It was much nicer at the top above the fog than riding in it.)


This fog is the batch that rolled in late in the day. It was no warmer than its counterpart that plagued us on our first ascent and descent at 7:00am.


A very curious little fellow who would have loved a ride on the bike.

So this is the breakdown...

#1
6:45 am
53 degrees
Breezy out of the east.
Arrived at the base of the mountain on North Gate Rd. in my truck around 6:45 am, prepped my bike, and met Mickey and Dianne as they showed up. Vince rolled up 6 minutes late. Our group isn't very patient. V. almost got left behind. We traveled slowly so that the group could stay together, but at the ranger station Mickey and I pulled out first and didn't see the other 2 till the top. 2 hour climb. I felt basically like I hadn't started riding yet, as my times usually run nearer to 1 hour 15 minutes. I descended the outbound side of the "wall," (the final 1/10th of a mile that rises at nearly 20%, but is divided into a loop with an incoming and an outgoing lane separated by rocks and radio towers.), met up with the latecomers, and ascended the "wall" again with them. I decided to use this extra climb as my "get out of jail free card" in case I didn't feel like climbing the "wall" later in the day.

We descended together to the R.S. and then split up, with V. and I going down South Gate Rd. and the gals heading back where we had come from. The early morning fog, plus the elevation had plummeted the temperatures into the low 4o's at the top, so our descent was frigid. Most of us had dressed for valley temps with nothing more than arm warmers. How many times will we be fooled before we finally get it?

#2
Approx. 10:00 am
60 - 65 Degrees at the base of S.G. Rd.
Windy from the East.
V. and I were both veritable blocks of ice as we turned the bikes around. Our toes finally resumed communication with the balance of our anatomy about the time we climbed past the R.S. the second time. We had gotten there in a hurry though, because the wind was stiffly at our backs, making the south western approach a dream. Above the R.S. the roads merge into 1 and we maintained a brisk pace on that stretch of road I would see 4 more times in the next 10 hours. Refill water bottles, add Cytomax and Accelerade, Eat another energy bar, and bomb back down. This time we took N.G. road at the split, and ended back at my truck slightly warmer. I ate and shared half my lunch, drank a Dr. Pepper, and convinced V. to ride up a third time.

#3
Approx. 12:30 pm
65 - 70 degrees.
Steady wind
Somewhat uneventful, though I set out on my own somewhere along the way, and waited for V. at the top. He rolled by after I had descended the "wall" where I waited impatiently for him to round the top and return. My patience ran out and I started back down - but not so fast that he couldn't catch me, as he did just below Juniper campground. Back down to the truck again, where I finished lunch and bid adieu to my companion.

#4
Approx. 2:30 or 3:00 pm
70 degrees.
Increasing wind.
The wind was head on for most of the N.G. road ascent. I drafted off a rider who didn't like the fact that I had just passed him. He came around me pretty fast, so I just sat in his slip stream until he blew out and I passed him again. I intended for him to draft off me, but he had blown up in trying to show me up so I left him. I pressed on following 2 riders that had also breezed by me earlier. I slowly gained on them hoping to work into their drafting, but soon noticed a rider gaining on all of us rapidly. She passed the 3 of us just as I was within reach of my prey. I couldn't help it. I jumped on her wheel and blew past them like they were standing still - well, she pulled me past them like they were standing still. I asked if I could come along for awhile, and she didn't mind, but awhile was more like 3/4 or a mile, and then I was back on my own again watching her ride away. I shouted thanks, and never saw her again, so she must have gone past the R.S. and then back down S.G. Rd.

I met a group of 4 riders a mile or so from the top, and rode to the top with them. The 2 guys were part of 2 or 3 other riders on the mountain all attempting to summit the 3 Bay Area peaks in 1 day - Hamilton, Diablo, and Tamalpais. They were taking the Bay Area transit trains between the mountains. The 2 gals with them had just summitted twice, having ridden 2/3's of the way down to meet the guys coming up. I was happy to realize I wasn't the only overzealous cyclist on the mountain.

The ride down was becoming noticeably cooler again, and the fog could be seen creeping down the hills on the far side of the valley to the southwest. Too bad I was running out of get up and go, because I still needed to go back up and get. I chose to climb S.G. Rd. twice, and N.G. Rd. three times, because of the tail wind on S.G. Rd. and its higher elevation at the turnaround. It seemed like cheating to binge on the easy side and worked against my nature. I had left the second S.G. Rd. ascent for last.

#5
5:00 pm
65 degrees
Cold tail wind (Isn't this supposed to be June?)
At nearly the bottom of descent #4 I had caught 3 guys on skateboards descending nearly as fast as I was. No brakes. They told me they "drifted" around the corners, or in other words slid the boards sideways, with their bodies approaching parallel to the roadway. They loaded up in their escort vehicle at the bottom (looked like one of their girlfriends driving) and headed back up the mountain. So did I, but I was prepared to pull out the camera - and wasn't disappointed. Sorry, the quality is crummy, but I did get a short video of their fun.

From here on, the final climb was lonely. As I rode through 99.99 miles I was pleased to note how well I felt. No cramps all day. My shoulders and back were still pliable. My legs though sore, were still turning the cranks and I could accelerate when I needed to.

But I was getting cold. I climbed through 3,000' with the first wisps of fog interlacing the trees around me. The thought briefly crossed my mind to submit my "get out of jail free" card and make for the bottom before the "wall," but I knew that would never happen. I jokingly prayed for a miraculous blanket of warmth to surround my descent, but realized I was praying for mercy from self inflicted punishment. But that prayer did change things. It's as if God winked and said, "buddy, you don't need a miracle, you just need a plastic bag or something." Mickey had mentioned her lifesaving plastic bag on the Death Ride a few years back, and I now knew what I needed.

I came over the top of the wall feeling awesome in so many ways. A minivan load of tourists had patiently monitored my final ascent, and only their presence kept me from fist pumping the air as I coasted into the parking lot for the 5th time.

There was no time to waste though, as I could now see the fog spread completely across the valley below me and moving up the mountainside rapidly. I rolled toward the nearest open door and asked a kind family in another minivan if I could have a plastic bag. After some quizzical looks and a brief reallocation of contents, they rewarded a rapidly cooling cyclist with the makings for a fine white windbreaker. Tucked in an alcove out of the wind I filleted the bag, doffed the jersey, turned the bag handles into sleeves and wrapped my torso with a Dollar Store windbreaker. With my jersey back in place the change was imperceptible. Imperceptible to anyone else that is. I now had my armor to face the 50 degree foe one last time.

I remember last year, descending from the 4th climb and how fast I was flying. Not this year. I took it easy. I had passed "Scott's Corner" (as it is now affectionately called by my riding buddies) 5 times that day already, and each time reminded me of another aspect of an ill fated ride only 6 months ago. I frankly took it easy on all 5 of the descents for the day, to the point that V. even noted that I seemed a bit more tentative than usual. I guess 2 months in a wrist brace, and a broken bike will do that to you for a while. For a while...

At the bottom I loaded the bike back on the truck and flipped through the functions of the bike's computer just to make sure it was for real. I was having a hard time remembering all of the ascents all of a sudden. As I unloaded my jersey pockets I smiled as I did remember... I still had my "get out of jail free" card. I suppose it will be good for another day.