Muddy Tracks

We’ve been running and hiking to stay in shape through the winter. The trails are muddy, the days are short, and the weather has been cold and rainy. Both the mountain bike and the road bike wince every time I open the shed door. They know what I’m thinking. I understand the trepidation. I’m not much fond of road rash either.

However, the mountain bike and I made a pact the other day, and we set off from the house for an hour ride through Briones to meet up with the others for our Tuesday trail run. My favorite women were going to drive up into the park to walk with some other ladies, so my bike was promised a ride home on the back of the Pilot.

Once I reached the park, and started up into the hills, the trails were predictably mucky. Very few bike tracks cut through the frequent slimy sections, but the equestrian and bovine traffic has been heavy. The trails are trashed. I managed to the top without stepping off, but only because of some rather narrow hard packed detours skirting the worst areas.

I reached our rendezvous just minutes before the group began to arrive; Phyllis, My wife and daughter, and finally Vince, Rachel, and the Black Dog. Vince and I ran a loop, taking us along both single track and fire roads, till we met up with the walker / joggers near the top of the park. The ladies had taken turns pushing Ella in the jogging stroller, often two at a time to make it up some of the hills. Boy was I glad I didn’t have to push her.

In all, we were out for just over an hour and covered probably 5 and 3 miles respectively. My quads were rather put out from riding and then running the painfully steep slopes. Bec found some new muscles on that hike, but Ella seemed no worse for the bouncing and jostling. Although, they say she did hike a fair portion of it herself.

We finished in the dark.

My bike breathed an almost visible sigh of relief as it was fastened securely to the bike rack.

3 days later – Friday, we went out again, with a similar group. No running this time. It ended up being basically a walk in the park. 5 year old Ella managed the majority of the 3 mile hike on foot. I pushed the stroller the whole time, empty and occupied. Vince was busy trying out his new video camera. Lots of mud.

Last night it was just Vince, Rachel, and Black Dog along with Bec, Ella, and myself. Vince and I attempted the Briones summit, but had to turn back at 40 minutes in order to make it back in the agreed upon 1 hour. It is likely that we actually found the steepest possible ascent. We managed to run, or maybe trot is a better definition, 99% of the way. Some areas were just too steep and slick to keep it up. Running down is a scream. I’m still sore today. Lots more mud.

Speaking for myself and my family, it has been a good winter so far. I have thoroughly enjoyed running the trails. It’s a bonus having my women so close too, as we share in a little adventure a couple of times each week.

I'm getting good at vacuuming out the Pilot.

Goals

US Postal Service team leader Lance Armstrong reacts as he crosses the finish line to win the 15th stage of the Tour de France cycling race between Valreas, southern France, and Villard-de-Lans, French Alps, Tuesday, July 20, 2004. Armstrong was honored Monday Dec. 27, 2004 as The Associated Press Male Athlete of the Year for the third straight year. Armstrong joined Michael Jordan (1991-93) as the only athletes selected by sports writers and broadcasters three straight times since the honor was first awarded in 1931. AP / File Augusta Chronicle 12/27/04

We're supposed to have goals, right?
(My wife would recommend that I place the word "reasonable" in that sentence somewhere, I'm sure)
So, I'm laying out some that I've been considering for this year.
I in no way think that at the end of this year I will return to this post and compare reality with these hopes. This is just an opportunity to wander through the possibilities.


First, a story about a goal.
In August of '08 I posted about a dismal ride up Mt. Diablo. It was painful. The only worse pain I've had on the bike, was a bone chilling descent from the same mountain at the end of '07, which I have not forgotten. There was no choice concerning the descent - I wasn't about to spend the night on that mountain wearing sweaty spandex.

The climb 3/4 of a year later was optional - and grueling.

I never would have finished, if I hadn't set a goal. I had determined to make it my fastest time to the top of the mountain, which meant I had to reach the summit.
Not even 3 miles into the 11 mile climb, it was obvious that the secondary goal, "a best time ever" was a dream and likely to be more like a nightmare. Just surviving all the way to the top was becoming a perilous prospect. However, with half of the objective already deceased, the other approached a temporary obsession.

There were a variety of factors working against me that afternoon, and the sum of them was enough to create doubts about my sanity moving forward. This 3000'+ climb had become routine, so it would have been inconsequential to miss just once. However, I had set a goal to reach the top of the mountain, so I pressed on through clammy crawling skin, dizziness, and nausea. I had bonked, hit the wall, blew up, and any or all of a number of other ways of saying I was spent, all in, toast, and wasted. The climb was miserable.

Notwithstanding, and much later than anticipated, my goal was achieved. And as always, it was worth it. Not because I felt so good, or because there was anyone there to laud and praise, but rather because quitting feels so bad.


Lance Armstrong has a quote:
“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”

My wife found this quote poster size, with a picture of Lance and framed it for my office. I actually think of it often.

In the first Century AD the Apostle Paul, prior to his demise, was led by the Spirit of God to write, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:" in reference to finishing this life in good standing with the God of the universe.

Now that's a goal. That's finishing well. That's refusing to quit. That's what I want to be able to say.




List of Goals - (Many of which aren't nearly as important as the previous paragraphs may have led you to anticipate.)

1. Ride one of the bikes at least once per week.
2. Run / ride at least twice a week.
3. Ride to the top of diablo four times in one day - at least once this year.
4. Finish all 5 passes on the Death Ride.
5. Replace my 10+ year old bike before the Death Ride.
6. Get Dave and Pastor to the top of Mt. Diablo on their bikes at least once.
7. Get my daughter proficient enough to ride her bike along with Bec and I while we walk.
8. Ride at least one organized century other than the Death Ride.
9. Swim in the warm Atlantic Ocean.
10. Ski at least twice this winter.
11. Make a list of my personal and spiritual goals somewhere else where others won't read them.

Death Ride - Registration Success

"Beginning and ending at Turtle Rock Park just north of Markleeville, California, the five pass ride includes 129 miles and 15,000+ feet of lung busting climbing."

http://www.deathride.com/info.html


I've never ridden this ride, but everyone talks about it. I feel a little left out among my cohort to be honest.
Lord willing - this is my year.

Evidently the registration process is different this time around, as all of the registration is first come first served on 2 pre-selected days via the ride's web site.

Today was the second day. First try I got in, paid my $102.18, and secured my position as rider in "One of the premier cycling events in the west."

Vince tried the first day, and then again today. Bummer - no go. He will find tickets on E-bay or Craig's List.
Training began today - in my mind if nothing else. Will keep you posted.

First Ride 2009

9 hours into 2009 we started our first ride of the year.
All of the Diablo Valley has been socked in with fog for several days, and Thursday, January 1 was no exception. The temperature was in the low 40's when we left the truck near the base of Mt. Diablo. Vince and I immediately met up with Mickey, and within only a mile, had caught up with another group of riders, most of which were friends or acquaintances of Vince and / or myself. Our group of over half a dozen began the cool ascent through a stagnant mist. The group was taking its time getting to the top, and I was personally in no hurry to ride alone. At around 2000' we started seeing the sun peek through the fog, and then rather abruptly, we were above it, being dazzled by fluffy white drifts.

The number of riders on the mountain was astounding. I literally had to wake Vince up to get him out, and figured that would be the general consensus of the balance of Bay Area riders. Not so. We were many. There may have been a couple hundred on the mountain just during the couple of hours we were there.

No records were broken, except for maybe the most times off the bike during one ride up the mountain, or longest descent as we coasted through the thickening layer of pea soup hovering around 2000'

I had to rush the end of the ride, as I had promised my wife to be home by 11:30 to help remove the turkey from the oven. I didn't make it on time, but did get there soon enough to keep her from attempting the baking bag removal procedure on her own.

I've managed to post this only 2 weeks late, but nevertheless am looking forward to a great year of cycling and blogging.

The Fog is Lifting

Photo courtesy of Ethan Parrott of SC.


I started this post over a week ago, thinking I would give a more detailed report of the last week.
I have found that I can’t give it much thought at this time.

Our Christmas season has had some unexpected turns.
The short version is this. My wife and I were expecting our second child. At just over 19 weeks we went to the ultrasound which was to determine the gender of the baby.

We received news at that time, that our child was already in Heaven. Not that our doctor thought our child was in heaven – as he tried to comfort us with talk of bad luck and cosmic rays. His delusion – and I wasn’t in the frame of mind to set him straight. All I could say was "There is a God, and He is sovereign." Smart as he was, the doctor seemed clueless on those 2 points.

We spent the next 2 days at the hospital grieving and waiting for our child to be delivered. We were overwhelmed by the love and support from our church and other friends.
We chose to induce the delivery, so that we would be able to see our baby, and hold our baby. 1:25 am of the second day, Friday Dec. 12, she delivered a 10 oz 10.5” baby boy. We named him Ezekiel, which means “God Strengthens.” He most certainly has.

We arranged and held a funeral which was attended by many of our friends and family. His body now lies in a cemetery in Concord, CA. But, we know that he is actually more alive than ever in the presence of our Good God.
I have avoided the obvious question of “why.” I don’t know why. In the grand scheme of things, my experience is actually minor compared to the sorrow of so many. That doesn’t help me any though. The only thing that really helps, is the consolation, that someday I will meet and shake hands with the man that is my son. He will walk me through the gardens and mountains of a new home. He may even be the one to re-introduce me to other loved ones who have been there long before him.
I have the assurance that in Christ, all are made alive.

It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. Lots of talk about a baby named Jesus right around now. For the record, He didn’t stay a baby. He lived a life not unlike ours. Political upheaval, religious intolerance, just making ends meet. The difference was, He didn’t have to be here. He chose a birth canal as His entrance into the world He had created. He lived with pain and the frustrations of life knowing that on a divinely predetermined day, he would be executed for “crimes” he never committed.

That was the only way. That was the key that unlocked eternity. A key shaped like a cross.

Not everyone enters eternity with the confident expectation of eternal peace and joy. Jesus offers that as a free gift.

Do I fully understand it – No. Do I believe it – Yes.

The Fog

This must come across as rather obvious to most folks, but, if you can't see and others can't see you - don't ride your bike.

But oh how the short days make for a very long off season!
Many use the time out of the saddle to cross train with running, weight lifting, knitting, and other cardiopulmonary activities. But face it, these can be soooo boring.
By the third or fourth week of the winter daylight schedule, that bike is looking rather tempting.

So I've been going out at odd times, and racing daylight.
A few weeks back I rode to the start of one of our runs, locked up the bike in Vince's truck, then returned home in the pitch black. That return trip nearly cost me though, as an oncoming import nearly turned left into me. Way too close.

To make things even worse, the fog rolled in for nearly a solid week. If you want to see depressed Californians, stick them in the fog for a few days.

Our monthly men's prayer breakfast landed on a foggy Saturday morning. The low temperature was in the upper 30's, and the regularly scheduled "ride to breakfast" found me riding alone. There were a variety of excuses from the others...Wimps. I had planned a small climb up Bailey Rd., a notoriously narrow and winding climb just a few miles shy of our destination. Visibility was a generous 1/8 of a mile at initial cruising altitude, but the climb was already suspect. At several points along the way it occurred to me that the pass may indeed be impassible. But, to the reader's surprise...I pressed on. Two pre-selected detours faded back into the fog as I chose to press toward the goal, rather than take one of those shorter routes.

Concord Blvd. gradually shortened, till as far as I knew, it may have only been a few hundred feet long. The sign for Bailey Rd. emerged from the mist and passed by on the right as I turned left, and began the trip across the valley toward the ascent. The Concord Naval Weapon's station, soon to be converted into mid priced condo's, was at one point serviced by a short railway, connecting this valley to the Sacramento / San Joaquin river delta. At these tracks I stopped and contemplated. Oh how I wanted to be able to say I had climbed Bailey Rd with 50' visibility. Oh how I wanted to survive it.



I survived...




...I turned back and went the other way.

(Waiting for applause from my mother and wife to subside)


I arrived at the prayer breakfast 30 minutes late - and soaked.
I never quite got warmed up, in spite of several cups of coffee and an incredible spread. Several offered their trucks to drive me home, but that would never do.

The dreary miles home were accompanied by a slight breeze from the east swirling the mist and dragging my breath on ahead as I slowed for the climbs.

Ahhhh.
Again - the hot shower, bedroom slippers, and the latest copy of Bicycling Magazine, upon arrival at my couch.

Again, - worth it. Barely.

Advertising

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.