Court House Run

I have a favorite route that I run about once a week. It takes me downtown Martinez where I loop once around the county courthouse and then retrace my route on the opposite side of the road. In all it is about 4.75 miles. I don't often record my times or mileage being a very practical optimist. If I don't know - I can't be disappointed.

Last week I recorded my route on a new Android GPS tracking app - Endomondo. (Seems to refer to "endorphins") I ran what I thought was a fast pace but looked at the statistics and was chagrined to see an 8+ min / mile average speed. I lived with that assumption for a week.

Motivated, I tracked my route and time on the same path a week later. This time I allowed the "virtual coach" to shout over the music and give me my split times through my ear buds. I ran fast and cleared the first mile in 7 minutes 2 seconds. I lost 20 seconds on the second mile, but it finished my first climb, so a small drop was to be expected.

The wheels started to come off the wagon in mile 3. 7 minutes 53 seconds, and then mile 4 was 7 minutes 59 seconds. Run... Faster... Run... Faster

I lengthened my stride for the home stretch, fighting a stitch and a sour stomach. I crossed the road at rush hour - sans crosswalk - timing it well enough to not be flattened or scorned. Right turn into my neighborhood and a left down my street. Stop. 36 minutes 21 Seconds.

Average speed 7:36 per mile. Smile.

Then I reviewed the history to make the comparison. Last week 36 minutes 7 seconds. Wait a minute. I had a better time last week? Evidently.

I'm not sure what state of mind I was in at the finish a week ago, but I obviously misread the data.

I had been motivated by a mistake. Frown.

So, I actually did worse? Stink.

Next week...

Backpacking in Yosemite 2011

Yosemite as seen from behind the lens of my HTC Inspire, Android, GPS enabled, handheld computer camera - which even has an operational phone feature which works well enough - when I can get my daughter to stop playing Angry Birds long enough for me to answer the calls. Having not replaced the latest of a long line of camera casualties, I chose to record this backpacking trip with my cell phone.

This year's trip through Yosemite followed a loop from Wawona, up to the top of Chilnualna Falls, north east to Buena Vista Peak, and then back around to the west exiting the wilderness where we had entered.

Group 1 (Brent, Tim, Zach, Matt, and Jeremy) entered the wilderness on Tuesday late morning. Dave and I followed them 24 hours later.

The view from the bridge crossing Chilnualna Creek - Wawona Campround - Yosemite

Dave and I hit the trail to catch up to our friends. We arrived 1 day later than them and had a 15 mile, 3,500' climb in which to catch up to them for their second night's campsite. It was surprisingly warm. I had lost the shirt before we even left the parking lot. I had packed for cold weather and with the temps in the 70's at 10:00 am and 5,000' I was concerned that the extra weight was a waste.

I was not to be disappointed though. By 8,000' we were traversing patches of snow, and before the week was out, the nighttime lows would be in the high 20's.

Tim proved to be a great asset to the team, and at 16 years old, is more familiar with navigating Yosemite than many of the locals. He also makes great August snowmen.

We were legitimately concerned that we would be navigating by "blaze", map, and compass if the snows were covering too much of the trail. Though many sections of trail were obscured, none initiated more than a few moments of indecision.

One of the many views we would have of Chilnualna Creek and Falls.

Strangely this was among the wildest of the wildlife we encountered over the 4 days. There was a marmot sighting, a few deer sightings, and the ubiquitous black squirrels, lizards and birds, but the presence of a species presenting real physical danger was limited to the ones wearing backpacks.

"Hey guys, look over here!"
Royal Arches Lake - camped on exposed granite attempting to escape the starving mosquitoes.
They found us anyway. Night 1 for Dave and I.

The view from the top of Buena Vista Peak, looking down on Buena Vista Lake with our second campsite near the middle of the far side of the lake.

The technical and most enjoyable part of the ascent of Buena Vista Peak. This climb had no marked trail, though we were certainly not the first to ascend this peak. The boulders were strewn clear to the top as if a herculean dump truck had backed up beside the lake and left its load to be spread.

Our campsite was so close to the base of the peak, that we had a hard time representing the mountain in any one picture.

I was dubbed Obi Wan Kenobi for my blanket / coat / sleeping bag liner. This was the result of much contemplation and a few nights sleep lost last year in a 40 degree sleeping bag on consecutive 30 degree nights. Obsessed with minimalism, weight reduction, and multi purposes, I brought a sleeping bag liner and coat together into a medieval style micro-fleece robe. Don't knock it - it worked. It served all purposes in splendid fashion - did I say fashion? Yes, I will be taking orders as soon as the shipment of micro-fleece arrives. Best of all, thanks to the research and generosity of our family friend, Shiree, and a handful of clasps, snaps and thread that Bec had lying around - it was completely free. The design is absolutely original. Bec strategically intervened behind the sewing machine, but generally let me stumble through the stitches myself. One person actually thought I had bought it, though in their defense, they didn't get a very close look.

One of the many drops of Chilnualna Falls.

Just above our last night's campsite along Chilnualna Creek.

I left the wilderness with about 1/8 of my battery remaining in my phone. I took 185 pictures and about 10 minutes of video. But I took no calls.

Another successful wander away from the daily grind, and an opportunity to regain my focus on the Creator of it all.

Photo Credit - Matt
Who stumbled upon this little piece of paradise with Dave.

Check out Kelsey's blog, linked to the right, for some truly spectacular photos. Seems she was out there somewhere...

"I Wasn't Afraid to Lose"

Cycling at it's best

What an awesome day for Leopard-Trek and Andy Schleck. I haven't been able to see any of this year's stages of the Tour de France live, but I'm wishing that I had today.
The news reports yesterday were at best indecisive and at worst actually sneered at the young Luxembourg rider. Today only he can sneer - but that doesn't seem to be his style.

Check out the race report at cyclingnews.com, and this article about his amazing effort.

I've been watching the brothers Schleck for nearly 3 years now. It's great to see them coming into their own. Even if one of them doesn't finish in yellow - today will certainly be a day to remember, and will always be known as the day Andy dropped Alberto - and everyone else.

Death Ride 2011

Sitting at a mile above sea level, Markleeville, CA is about as unassuming a place as one could want to come across. Every time I drive through the .25 mile long business district, I wonder what glue adheres this alpine oasis to the map. Other than the pub and general store, I have no idea what form of commerce would support the 200 residents.

South Lake Tahoe, 30 miles to the north west is no doubt the daily destination for most of Markleeville's commuters, but it's not the azure waters of Lake Tahoe that lure me into this quiet mountain village.

I would likely never have noted the existence of Markleeville if it weren't for the Tour of the California Alps - Death Ride. For 1 weekend in July Markleeville's population blossoms by 1800% as 3,500 cyclists are hosted out of Turtle Rock Park for a Saturday of intense cycling.

This was my 3rd year to summit the 5 passes for a cumulative +15,000' of climbing over 129 miles. There was no question this year whether or not I would finish as there was the first year, and I lacked the drive to finish fast as I did the second year. This year my singular goal was to enjoy the ride.

Starting with a short spin on the bike and then chilling at camp in Turtle Rock Park Friday night, sleeping in a little later than the norm (4:00am rather than 3:15am), and finally riding at whatever pace suited me at the moment, I managed to pull off a spectacularly pleasant weekend. All of that was topped off with the girls coming up to cheer me and an unending procession of cyclists as we passed through Markleeville on our way to Carson Pass (#5) just after lunch.





I carpooled with Vince and Dianne Friday morning and made amazingly good time getting to the mountains. The oversized tires on V's Tacoma supposedly throw his speedometer off. I don't think the speedometer was off quite that much though.
Later in the afternoon Kevin arrived, and before evening Kipp and Mardi had rounded out our 2 camp sites.

Kipp and Mardi, who were disappointed with last year's performance finished all 5 passes this year. Kevin, who can ride 200 miles in the Davis Double, threw in the towel at 3 passes, and kicked back for a long lunch, and a relaxing afternoon with Milt and Jackie who showed up around midday Saturday with no bicycles.

Vince and I spent the majority of the morning together, but shortly before the 3rd pass he dropped back to discuss irrigation methods with a tree and we only saw each other in passing after that. I learned later that a developing wardrobe issue was becoming a pain in the butt - literally. I left with the girls promptly after finishing the ride and breaking camp, but he emailed me later to say "Hey the gel pad in my cycling shorts disintegrated causing them to bunch up which in turn caused great bottom pain, I almost didn't make it!" That's dedication to a goal.
This was #8 or #9, I don't recall, but he claims he's finished when he finishes 10 DR's with 5 summits.

Finally, Dianne pulled off a great first DR. She left at 4:25am with Kevin to start the ride in the dark. About an hour later Vince and I rode onto the course. It wasn't until nearly the top of the back of Monitor Pass (#2) that I finally caught up with her. She was toast, but still in good spirits. I expected her to bail on #3 - because if you crest Ebbets and head down the other side, there's no way out but back up. But nearly to the top of #4 - returning up the back side of Ebbets, I saw her descending from #3 toward the valley. That descent is out and back with no bus at the bottom. She had plucked up some courage and committed to the back side of Ebbets and completed 4 passes.

Next year will be DR #4 for me, though I haven't committed to 10 like Vince has. I'm not sure that my attention span is quite that long. I've determined now, however, that next year I'll be riding against the clock. My objective is to finish in under 9 hours on the bike, and 10 hours total.
This year my average speed was 12.1 - which is respectable enough.

Next year the number is 14.3.

Lakeport - Take 2

6:45 Am - Almost to the Carquinez Bridge.



Bottom of Howell Mtn. Rd. above St. Helena CA - 50 miles into the ride.

When the sign said Howell Mtn. Rd. was closed because of a slide - it wasn't joking. Like good adventurers we blew past the 3 Road Closed signs, the sign specifically stating that the road was closed to vehicles, bikes, and pedestrians, and the recently constructed barricade. Honestly I wouldn't have ventured up if Vince hadn't been there. I like adventure and all, but climbing 1100' just to find out I have to go back down and up the other way is annoying. ...I gambled - less annoying with a friend.

The multiple bicycle tire tracks in the dirt skirting the barricade promoted optimism, plus the cyclist at the bottom had claimed we could get through.

And we did...

It looked like a bomb had been dropped on the road.

I was on my way to Lakeport to visit friends for the 4th of July weekend, and Vince was looking for a long ride - both of us on our last long pre-Death Ride training ride. Leaving Martinez at 6:00 AM we made reasonably good time in the cool air. 60 miles later we parted ways at a convenience store at Howell Mt. Rd. and Pope Valley Rd. where another group of riders accompanied Vince on the loop back toward home. I struck off alone toward Middletown and the Cobb Mt. climb beyond.

The south approach to Cobb Mt. up Hwy 175 was a success this time. 2 years ago on basically this same route, Highway 175 combined with 100 degree temps and the 90 previous miles, had proven too much for me and a galvanized guard rail half shaded by a scraggly oak had become a makeshift oasis. As I powered by the spot this 2nd time, I was thankful for 90 degrees and a slight breeze.

Total trip ended up being 112 miles, in 7 hours 15 minutes on the bike. 1 mile further and 15 minutes faster than last time - just over a 15 mph average speed. Elevation gain - 4,000 - 5,000 feet. Water bottles totaled around 7 plus the Coke in Middletown and the Gatorade at the top of Cobb Mtn.

And it was fun. I enjoyed the ride considerably more with a little knowledge of the countryside and rest stops that I lacked last time. It was smoking hot in the canyons, but in general the weather was spectacular for a half day on the bike.

And when my wife and girls showed up at our friend's home 30 minutes after I did, Bec popped the leftover spaghetti from home into their microwave... to keep me out of their fridge.

Vince ended up with 110 miles for the day.

Summer

I've been tied up lately with multiplied concerns pulling me many directions. It's hard to stay consistent with a training regimen and continue to meet the familial, corporate, and social obligations with legitimate demands on my schedule.

My goal has been 1 medium length run, 1 short ride (ideally a commute ride from and to work), and 1 long ride per week.

The runs have taken a new twist now that our youngest is strong enough to endure the rigors of the jogging stroller at jogging speeds. I've been loading her up on a Tuesday or Thursday afternoon and running the 7 miles down to and around the Martinez marina and back. She's a great sport - as a matter of fact, as soon as I unfold the stroller, she is tripping her way over to get hoisted inside. - I'm ever amazed at that stroller. By our count it has well over 2000 miles on it, and if it actually had an odometer, I suspect we'd see double that. - At 19 months she has grown accustomed to the stroller with resigned dignity and is content to ride several times per week, hours at a time, on our long family walks and has now transitioned quite well into the jostle of slightly higher speeds.

My schedule must fall out perfectly in order for my commute rides to work. I must be in the general vicinity of the shop in the afternoon to lock up my truck and transition to the bike. And then I must not have early appointments the next morning so as to give myself time to return to the office and clean up. I manage to accommodate that sequence every few weeks or so.

The long rides have been going well over the last month or so, like yesterday's 56 mile ride around the Diablo Valley. After 120 miles and 5 summits of Mt. Diablo last Saturday, I figured I could focus on some speed work in the valley. I'm nearly as sore after the high intensity pulls and sprints in the valley as I was after 17,800' of climbing.

I have to put in a final note as a proud daddy.
My oldest (8) has now purchased her first bike with "brakes and gears." She has saved up her birthday money and with the help of Craigslist, a small bag of cables and such from the bike shop, and about 3 hours of work with her daddy is now the proud owner of a dual suspension 7 speed mountain bike. She's only a few more scrapes and bruises away from handling the bike like a pro.

5x Plus a Little

A friend I met on the way down the mountain

I've begun to perceive a tendency if not an actual theme - A look in a listener's eyes communicating something between "what for?" and "You poor fool." I've even begun to hold out and omit some of the enormity of an otherwise splendid tale if I see that the listener is bereft of an overaggressive sense of adventure.

But on Saturday I finally met a fellow who understood. Yes, he got it. He likewise had summited Mt. Diablo 5 times consecutively in 1 period of daylight. On my 4th ascent of the day - which happened to be up the South side of the mountain - I paced with a gentleman sporting a '99 Death Ride finisher's jersey. He commented that it was rather late in the day, on such a warm afternoon, to be climbing all the way to the top of the mountain. I tried desperately to achieve nonchalant as I let him know this was my 4th pass. He was unfazed and retorted with simple frankness that his record was 5. Today however, he was content to achieve the Ranger Station - half way to the top.

It was at that point that in spite of a fitful 4 hours of sleep the night before, temperatures 10 degrees warmer than expected, and a growing numbness of mind and body, I decided I must at least match my own 1 year old record of 5 summits again this day.

Indeed I succeeded, and was pleasantly surprised to find myself finishing in somewhat better shape than I had a year ago. I could see, spit, and walk straight - often 2 of them at the same time. Let's just say - last year I was dangerous driving home.

However, in the face of triumph there was also a conceptual defeat. I had been hoping for 6.
4 in 2009
5 in 2010,
and now in 2011...

My arithmetic proved to be superior to my resolve. At 120 miles, 17,800' of elevation gain, and 10 hours 30 minutes on the bike, I was tired. My friends were all gone, showered, cool, and sipping... sipping - yes sipping, not guzzling bottle after bottle of warm translucent agony lubricant. I entertained the hope of at least a half summit of number 6, but the arguments in opposition were increasing faster than I could keep up with them on that long slow ascent of Number 5. I was rapidly becoming incapable (more mentally and emotionally than physically) of a 6th pass. If 6 was victory, then I was destined for defeat.

The conceptual defeat was ameliorated only slightly by an early morning stroke of genius. Yet indeed the genius may have also been the demise of that half summit of number 6. I had arrived early and spent my first 30 minutes climbing to the 1000' marker - 8 miles round trip and 750' of elevation gain. On returning to the valley I met my friends and we then proceeded on our way up the first real ascent. I tucked that solo ride, a little piece of brilliance, away in a side jersey pocket for the outside chance I didn't make it past 5 - I would at least have bettered last year.

The presence of that knowledge rapidly became a weight and a burden more than a crutch. I began to reason...
The half summit of number 6 was pointless if I didn't go all the way.
Was a half summit plus my early solo climb of 750' really any better than the 750' alone?
I had still fallen short of 6.
5 plus a little more, was only 5 plus a little more no matter how much more I chose to go, short of 6.
6 wasn't happening.
5.5 is pointless if 5.2 is already bagged.
Ok so it would actually be 5.7 - but I've already given up on 6.
If I give up on 6, is 5.7 really any better than 5.2?
I reasoned, No.

So this year I summitted 5.2 times. Though a marked disappointment, it reigns as my second greatest cycling achievement ever.

And at home, my Coca Cola was chilled perfectly for sipping.

The car struck by a cyclist (with broken driver's side window) and the helicopter that took the cyclist off the mountain. That's not the ride he had planned.

Vince - My companion of 3 Summits.

Me, waiting with the others for the helicopter to take a poor gentleman away for some TLC.

I Can Do All Things Through Christ

The lyrics to Mathew West's Strong Enough were going through my mind during an early Saturday morning training ride.

This particular ride was rife with little objectives:

• Turn the corner in Walnut Creek on my first loop before 40 minutes had passed - Success
• Meet Vince at his house by 7:00 AM, or at approx. 1hour 10 minutes - Success
• Meet the larger group at Mt. Diablo North Gate by 8:00 - Abandoned
• Establish an alternate route we could ride in 3 hours to be done by 10:00 AM - Success
• Attempt a new 1 mile hill (known to Vince as the hill his work van can only go up in low gear) up Castle Crest Rd. in Walnut Creek with more than a 1/4 mile of it at over 20% - Success
• Climb South Gate Rd. up to the Ranger station in under 30 minutes - Success
• Get to our respective appointments by 10:00 AM - Fail

The highlight of our ride was the climb up Castle Crest. Vince challenged me to the climb - knowing I was incapable of refusing. He said he'd wait at the bottom, which I happened to know he likewise was incapable of. We met at the top soaked with sweat and hearts pounding. Smiles.

All day, up every hill, I was chanting "I can do all things, Through Christ who gives me strength." How encouraging to have such a positive message cycling through those inner eardrums with which only my spirit can listen. I must admit I tortured creation with my own rendition of West's song - out loud. Apologies.

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

50 Miles of Hills

Gray clouds skirted across the top of Mt. Diablo obscuring the twin peaks yet adding emphasis to its dramatic prominence amid the green hillsides slow to tan in a cool wet spring.

Briones hillside confused by lingering rains.

In June the Bay area hills glow golden brown under azure skies. The infrequent foggy dawn is dispatched early as the long days of late spring fairly burst over the eastern horizon. The rain ends in May so June in northern California is the beginning of carefree picnics, long bike rides, and explosive gardens.

Except when its raining - in June.

Today is the 3rd of June and it will rain again tomorrow, like it rained on the 1st.

Absurdity.

So I pedaled away from the daily grind in the early afternoon and headed for the hills under lowering skies. With the Death Ride looming only a month away, my training rides are becoming a recognized though easily distracted priority. With only a few hours available I decided to pack them full of hills. In under 4 hours I managed at least 5000' of climbing in 48 miles.

Pig Farm, Bears, Wildcat Canyon, South Park, back to Happy Valley - up and over, and then back up and over, Bears, Pig Farm hill, home. These hills are so steep that the descents flash by and you're climbing again before you can gulp two bites of a Power Bar and a swallow of water.

I started out strong and fast, and paid for it at the end. With my route never more than 20 miles from home or a few miles from cell phone coverage, I pushed hard knowing I could blow up and call for SAG if necessary.

Just before blowing, I remembered the gorp (Good Old Raisins and Peanuts, or Gobs Of Raw Protein) in my jersey and downed the mix greedily. The recovery was obvious, and I remembered what I had learned about long rides. If you get hungry - you're toast.

Goats along Happy Valley Rd., with the long ascent of Papa Bear seen between the trees.

With any luck I won't have to work my long rides in around the weather much longer. My schedule is another story.

Full Speed Ahead

Looking west from the top of Pig Farm Hill over the early morning mist

I haven't stopped writing or riding, but at the current pace my life is flying by at, I don't have time to collect my thoughts and communicate them in a clear or concise manner as is fitting for a blog or time enough to construct my words into paragraphs, sentences, and phrases which work grammatically and flow seamlessly into one another by integrating billowing metaphors like soft clouds on a summer afternoon or brilliantly colorful adjectives adroitly and appropriately alliterated so as to draw a reader into the simple unified and tightly woven singular topic of the particular posting at hand.

Possible posts if I were to take the time to write:

• First Commute to Work ride in a long time, and how it only took me 1 hour and 12 minutes to go the 20 miles home from work in spite of my long absence from the bike, and the 1 hour and 30 minutes it took to get back to work the next morning because (Must think of good excuse for going slow - Possibly insert old stock photo of Pig Farm Hill at beginning to insinuate that I was stopping along the way to enjoy the view).

• Crockett Loop - DNF - because Dianne's glasses were completely obscured in the increasing mist of a Thursday afternoon group ride.

• Morgan Territory - Mt. Diablo, 75 miles, intended to be three of us but reduced to another solo ride through Morgan Territory as result of Vince's new bike's pedal's mechanical failure 8 miles into the ride, and my subsequent attachment to a 4 rider group with whom I drafted and chatted for the majority of my ride.

• Bridge to Bridge - 35 miles with the Saturday morning group, where Vince and I raced ahead of the group all morning until he flatted in Benicia and failed on the new tube because of a faulty patch and I loaned him one of my spares and all the other riders finished long before we did.
  

Or, Maybe I'll just leave off posting until I can come up with something to write about.