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.

Sun, Clouds, Earth

It's taken me over 4 months to get around to riding up the mountain this year.
I intended to forgo pictures, but couldn't help myself.
This morning was stellar.
I rode 50 miles with Mt Diablo at the end.

Looking SE toward Pleasanton

Looking west toward Lafayette and San Francisco beyond.

I was wondering why there were so many Subarus and Priuses passing me on the way up.

And the irony wasn't lost on me...
How many vehicles burning how much fuel climbed this mountain to worship on Earth Day?

And these leftists are thorough. They even drive to the left. I nearly had the opportunity to meet one head on, and a helicopter pilot, and some nurses, and doctors, and possibly even a surgeon. I was happy to leave them to their - uh - whatever it is they do on top of a mountain on Earth Day.

God must look down through His clouds at His beautiful green earth and shake His head with disappointment. Such intelligent humans, and they cluster on a mountain named Diablo, and worship dirt.

Golden Gate Headlands Marathon - Done

This marathon consumed my mind and body for the last week. I have suffered from more leg pain, potential cold / flu symptoms, and general negativity than I can ever remember in a 1 week period. My calves hurt so bad on Friday morning that I couldn't even run across the street without them hurting - And that was the last day of an entire week off! My mind was definitely playing tricks on me, and I didn't think it was funny. I had already titled this blog posting in my mind - Golden Gate Headlands Marathon - DNF.

Saturday morning. All was dark as I turned the alarm clock off and turned the coffee on - 6:05am.
A banana smothered with Nutella, 1 piece of toast (out of the 2 I had buttered and peanut buttered), 1 cup of pear yogurt, and coffee was breakfast. I was all nerves and could barely get them down.

7:15, I hit the road, and an hour later I was parking the truck in a prognostically muddy parking lot. Check in was unnecessary since my bib number had arrived in the mail a few weeks back. Stretch, one more banana, check the hydration belt, stretch, re-tie shoes, on with longsleeves, stretch, off with long sleeves, bathroom, on with long sleeves, stretch.



I waited in a bouncing, bobbing, energetic crowd of skinny spandex clad pretzels twisting their limbs into contortions not likely to ever be encountered out side a gymnasium, and certainly not on a trail run. Our attention was turned to the race organizer perched atop a park bench holding a rubber chicken and a rubber chicken "prize" purse. We learned they would be given to the first male and female finishers. I was in no danger of driving home with a chicken. I raised my hand with the few first time marathoners, and then should have noted with skeptical concern the sparsity of arms aloft when the question of who had run this route before was raised.

9:05, we were off at the countdown of Dave. Five, four, three, two, one - and the 39 marathoners were headed up the first and least of the hills we would encounter over the next few hours. I was instantly and inadvertently at the front. A group of about 8 - 10 of us, half guys half gals, all seemed to have the same pace in mind and enjoyed the comradery for the first miles.

Within a mile we were at the first set of steps only a few paces after leaving the pavement. We were warned that the route was mostly up, and only had enough descents to get us eventually back to the finish. Seems logical, but I think if they could have moved the finish to the top of something obscenely high and steep they would have. Some of the hills had this group of top finishers walking in the first 4 miles of a 26.2 mile race. All of us.

We were rewarded with spectacular views of the Pacific Ocean, San Francisco Bay and City, sail boats docked in Sausolito and Tiburon, and of course hundreds of square miles of the rugged foothills of Mt. Tamalpais. The streams were still running after a week of dry weather and most managed to cross the trails irrespective of the boards designed to bridge them. Other streams had no boards and simply flowed noisily down the middle of the trail, crisscrossed the trail at random intervals, or simply flooded the trails and guarded any detour by abundantly nourishing the flora on either side.

I ran with a group of 3 gals and 2 guys - counting me - for the much of the first 13.1 mile loop. the pace was quick but steady, and I knew I was far above my normal plodding pace. By the end of the first circuit I was running alone with a young gal, a college student from Santa Monica. Sam, a gal running her 2nd marathon had fallen behind, and I wouldn't see her again till I was driving away. The guy left us and evidently finished before me, while the other gals divided into a vanguard and rear guard never to be seen again.

The second lap started with a check in at the start / finish line. We had managed 2 hours exactly. I detoured to my truck and dropped the long sleeve shirt and grabbed an extra Power Bar. Re-entering the course I encountered my friend again and thus had company up the now familiar, though strangely steeper paved hill. At the steps we were separated, and I only saw her at greater and greater distances back, till I was literally alone with no one in sight ahead or behind. Based on my unofficial count of the runners ahead of me, I guessed that I was somewhere between 12th and 15th place.

Gravity increased as the morning turned to afternoon, and the celestial draperies were pierced more frequently by the warming sun. The breeze was yet chill on the ridges, though that perception was partially a function of the evaporating perspiration raised in the process of achieving those ridges.

Familiarity was both boon and bane. I knew how far it was between water stops and ridges, but then on the other hand, I knew just how far it was between water stops and ridges. I shared the trails with noncompeting runners, horseback riders, cyclists, a jack rabbit, and a small snake. I was beginning to notice more about the trail and less about the view. I was forced to walk on portions of hills that I had run up 13 miles ago.

I celebrated the unofficial "top" with another half banana at the second to last water stop. To come was a long, unabated, descending trail which paused in a marsh just before crossing the main road and thence climbed once more to run along the ridge parallel to the massive tankers drifting out into the Pacific. The last water stop, with 3 miles to go was at the base of that last climb, and it was there that I noticed the runner gaining on me. I picked up the pace as best I could, though frankly, had he not been as spent as I it would have been no large accomplishment to over take me in much less time. As it was, I was caught just as we approached the 1/2 mile home stretch across Rodeo Beach and thence into the parking lot for the finish.

I might have let him run past. The wind was full in our faces, and the soft sand was 3 times as difficult as the trail we had abandoned. I would have let him run past, except that he looked about my age, and awards were being given for the top 3 finishers in each 5 year age group. Whether the same was in his mind or not, I'll never know. He was relentless. Though his large fan club met him on the beach (one of whom was kind enough to spare some encouraging words and a smile for me) he didn't back off. I feared this home stretch 13 miles ago, but now I loathed it. The final 100 yards included splashing across the now expanded tidal pool, running up the bank to the road, and then finally sprinting across the road and the parking lot to a table littered with spreadsheets, calculators, and finisher medallions. My comrade commented that we should finish strong and then he put on steam as we crossed the parking lot. I put on more. We reached the table astride, though I made sure I was at least a step ahead. I was done.

We tied. The official results put us tied for 2nd place in our category. According to the official results, I finished 15th - though I know it was 14th. I'm thrilled to own 15th and share 2nd since he managed to turn my finish into something far more spectacular and satisfying than I could have contrived on my own.

Some sources state the overall elevation gain was around 1600', while others put it closer to 6000'. I don't believe either is correct. Based on my tedious calculations in Google Earth, I think it's somewhere in the middle between 4000' and 5000'. None of my training runs had come close. My longest run was 23 miles with 2,200' of elevation gain.




My earlier friend finished - I saw her later in the parking lot covered with mud just like myself.

So as a result of my efforts, I'm now the proud owner of a Golden Gate Headlands Marathon t-shirt, marathon finisher's medallion, and very sore legs.

This was my first marathon, and I picked a tough one. It's no wonder so few had returned for another shot at it. I may be back for another attempt at the GGHM, though without a doubt it was not my last marathon.

2011 Update on the Pros

Cadel Evans at Tirreno-Adriatico

I am way behind. The pro's have raced away in the 2011 spring season with me still sitting on the couch.

With my focus and energies trained on running this marathon, my off season cross training effectively upstaged my first love.Paris - Nice and Tirreno - Adriatico are now history and the Tour of Flanders and Paris - Roubaix are just around the corner. Cadel Evans of BMC took top honors at Tirreno - Adriatico, sharing the glory on the final day with Fabian Cancellara of Leopard Trek who showed that his TT prowess hasn't waned over the last winter of another decade.


Who am I watching this year? Well, basically the same players from last year.

Lance Armstrong has said goodbye to the big races, so the USA is down 1 hero. I suspect he will not be altogether absent, though.

George Hincapie from BMC will always be a paragon to me, though any realistic hopes of fantastic wins are fading fast. Along with George on Team BMC is the colorful Cadel Evans, who I watch for the same reason that I watch a ship push through a strong current - they leave an impressive wake.

Of course like the rest of the world, we watch and wait to see what the newly formed Leopard - Trek boys have to offer the 2011 cycling season. This is Saxo Bank cleaned up, dusted off, and energized. The Schleck brothers have every reason to be optimistic about this year's Tour de France, and with team mates like Fabian Cancellara and Jens Voigt - anything is possible.

Speaking of Jens Voigt, he has come out strongly against this year's amplified controversy - the banning of team radios on some high profile races. See this article in Cycling News. I'll possibly have an opinion on this in the future, though for now I'm just weighing the arguments. (As if my opinion mattered at all)


I'm also watching a few new US riders that show potential.

Ben King is a fresh new pro who joined with Lance and the Radio Shack crew this year. I first learned of this rider as I followed him virtually, reading the race report as he won the Pro Championship in my home town of Greenville, SC. It was exciting just following the "as it happens" report.

Then there's Taylor Phinney of BMC, no stranger to cycling with both parents former pros, and also brand new to the professional peloton.

I hope both of these young men prove to be great, and give US professional cycling a much needed boost.

Anticipation

View Larger Map


This is the first time I've attempted a couple of things.
1. Embedding a map of my route
2. Writing about my route before I run it

Google maps has a great feature that lets you embed a real Google map into your page. I've tried it above and it seems to work.
What you see is the loop portion of my run, starting and ending at the Martinez Waterfront Park. I have 1 out and back section that adds 2 additional miles putting me over 22 miles. So If you get to this within about 3 hours of publishing, say a prayer for my legs.

I've been awake and breakfasted for nearly an hour now. I'm attempting to duplicate as close as possible my actual marathon day routine. Get up at 6:00 am after sleeping 7 hours, eat a large breakfast, digest, stretch, start running around 9:00 am. That gives me 3 hours of down time which I'm attempting to fill.

I'm also attempting my first run with a new Amphipod running belt. I cashed in my REI points and came away with the belt for just over $2. I've been jogging all over the house with it, adjusting and re-adjusting the fit and bottle locations. This is a big change from the Camelback hydration system I have been using. It cuts a little weight and shifts the load from my shoulders to my hips. The only catch is that I'm accustomed to the bounce and sway of my backpack, but I've never worn anything like this. I'm really hoping it works. Conceptually it's brilliant, but then I have no hips so a fatal flaw may already be present. REI is great about returns.

22 miles is a long way to boast about running when I haven't done it yet, but then so is 26.22. So I don't boast. My longest run to date was 19 miles 2 months ago. Last Sunday morning I ran 18 miles, from 5:15 am until nearly 8:00 am. Last week I felt great and believed I had the balance of the marathon miles still in my legs. Today will tell I think. As stated, I don't boast. What happens out there is, I humbly recognize, a gift from my Creator. He saw fit to withhold that gift just a few short weeks ago as I sat for 3 straight weeks with ice on my colorfully swollen knee cap. I don't fear Him as capricious, but rather respect Him as benevolent. The gifts I'm given, I will use as long as I have them, and always say "To God Be The Glory."

The weather is predicted to be stormy with temperatures in the 40's. We got a show of lightning last night, and more is predicted for today. But then that prediction holds true for the next 3 days, so I might as well get it over with. You can only get so wet - right?

Josh - 5000 Miles

My long time friend Josh

Age: 36

Occupation: High School Chemistry teacher

Married, 6 kids (11yrs to 2 yrs old)

Josh lives in humid Greenville SC.
Josh is a daddy.
Josh doesn't like to spend $4.00 for a gallon of gas when he doesn't have to.
Josh recently sent me an email stating: PS- If I can share a personal milestone- I recently passed 5,000 miles of commuting to school on my bike.

RIGHT ON!!

I call myself a cyclist and I haven't logged that many miles on my road bike in the last 3 years. I suspect Josh wouldn't consider himself a "cyclist" in the snobbish sense, and I suspect his outfit doesn't include brightly colored spandex quite as often some of ours does. But he's a man among men when it comes to riding a bike.

To get a better understanding of his adventures I quizzed him about his commute etc...

______________

How far is your commute?

"6.6 miles one way. Averages around an hour for the round trip. Best time one way 22:37 (the wind was going the right direction)"

Do you ride year round?

"During the school year. (I try to ride a Mt. bike some when I am in AK so it won't be such a shock when I start again in Aug. It is always a shock. It may have something to do with the temperature/humidity change.)"

Any weather? Snow?

"If it is pouring rain when I go to leave in the morning I will sometimes take the van- assuming Kim doesn't need it for errands. I have ridden in snow a couple of times, but never when it was sticking to the road. I had to take about a week off from riding at the start of this semester because of snow and ice still on the road from our amazing 8 inch snow fall we got this year. The coldest I have ridden in was about 11 (Farenheit, not Kelvin)[Remember he is a chemistry teacher] There was ice in my water bottle and icicles starting to form in my beard by the time I got to school. My toes were cold too."

Do you ever take the kids?

"I take them around the neighborhood. Sattler (11) did the route one way with me once. Kim and I took all 6 of them on a 6 mile ride on the Swamp Rabbit trail last Thanksgiving. Two in a trailer I pulled and the rest moved under their own power."

Josh, it's riders like you that do the rest of the cycling community proud.

Ride on.

Getting the Miles Back Up

This represents the start of my run, up the hill, to meet up with Vince.

This represents basically an out and back juant with Vince plus a solo loop at the end.

Because I'm still learning my new GPS tracking software, I accidentally stopped it when I met up with Vince, who ran the middle 5 miles with me. Hence, the top route and graph are the first 2.5 miles, and the bottom, the final miles.

11.7 miles
2000' elevation gain.
Briones Regional Park - Trails.
2 hours: 10 minutes

After running 20 miles a few weeks back, this seemed like a short and frustratingly difficult run.

But my knee is not swelling, nor am I in any sort of pain at this particular moment.
I preceded the run with 4 cups of coffee, 2 slices of toast and a banana at 6:30am. I started running the hills in Briones at 8:30. All of that in an attempt to mimic the approximate conditions of my upcoming marathon.

Obviously I didn't run a marathon today, nor am I ready to run one. The 3 weeks off my feet took more of a toll than I had thought. The 2 previous short runs, 5 miles and 4.7 miles, were a great success with little pain and no subsequent swelling. The most recent 4.7 mile run, this past Wednesday, was accomplished at a rate of just under a 7 minute mile. I was thrilled - in between gasps - sucking wind.

But I have obviously lost some endurance. I was plagued by the recurring "home stretch lethargy" which is a poor indicator of how much I really have left in the tank, but even in the absence of that phenomenon, I suspect I was within a few miles of a crash.

So what's next? More training. As long as my knee and The Almighty allow, I will continue to press toward my goal: The Golden Gate Headlands Marathon - less than a month away.

And then? Get a professional bike fit, and start training seriously on the bikes.

Wow, I miss the bikes, but I dare not risk the swelling that those rides had initiated previously.

Words that mean more to me now: Patience, Endurance, Contentment.

On Ice

Snow was predicted for the Bay Area over the weekend, but in typical form, the arctic blast that was to facilitate the freeze was a bit too boisterous and blew the moist air inland to the Sierras leaving us with nothing but heavy frost and frozen puddles.

Saturday morning sparkled.

Though I begrudged the drive to a business seminar, I didn't miss the splendor of the frosty bay area hills along Highway 4. I also didn't miss the slick spot just under Cummings Skyway immediately over the crest of the pass, where seepage from the recent deluge had turned a 100' section of highway into a skating rink.

3 vehicles ahead of me were strewn like toys across the median and shoulder. No less than 2 sets of flashing lights per vehicle were keeping company and more were coming up the highway behind me. When forced by the 2 cars ahead of me to brake at the worst possible moment, my pulse soared through the stratosphere, and I consequently gained solidarity with my truck's anti-lock brakes.

I covered the orange tree again Saturday night, and as predicted, all was crisp and ghost like as the stars faded on Sunday morning. My first run in 3 weeks on a left knee plagued by pre-patellar busitis was going to be a cold one. A pair of thermal Pearl Izumi tights, my most recent and welcome addition to an ever expanding wardrobe of performance attire, proved to be worth the money. Saturated, the hillsides, yards, and even pavement cracks oozed thin glaciers rendering treacherous their meandering path across my own.
Tentatively I increased and decreased the pace, testing my knee, and made it to the 3 mile loop turn around all too soon. That was no good - I pushed on to the Contra Costa County Courthouse for the full 5 mile loop.

All things considered, the run was a success. The only subsequent pain was predictable, and acceptable. I have no idea exactly what I've lost in 3 weeks of limping and essentially not bending my left knee. But my lungs were on track for the 8 minute mile pace, and with the exception of a compliment of tight tendons, ligaments, and muscles around the recovering knee, all the other mechanisms for running were in tune.

But I wasn't done with the ice. For the next few hours I worried my left knee with ice packs, stretches, rest, then more ice and a continuation of the same.

Still to be determined is just how long the ice will be a part of the routine. My hope and prayer is that the warmth of spring will not only drive away the winter chill, but also melt the affliction of this knee.

Nebulae

Snow on Mt. D - 2009

The snow has returned to Mt. Diablo.
I have no pictures to show, because I can't get close enough.

"Why am I not up on that mountain?" was the nagging thought in my head as I gazed south eastward across the valley at the frosted slopes of the centerpiece of the East Bay. I longed to be up on the side of that mountain - any side - just not down here with my leg stanchioned within the confines of a black aluminum and nylon prison.

My latest visit to the doctor about my knee rewarded me with a consultation between Jodi the PA, Dr. Weiss the Sports Doctor, and the orthopedic surgeon who's name I forget. In short they told me not to bend my knee for a week and ordered a knee immobilizer to enforce the directive. I joked with a friend that my knee had been incarcerated, and the brace could only be removed in a week with a key kept in the Orthopedic wing of Kaiser Permanente. The "cure" to Pre-patellar Bursitis seems to be a medical nebulous eliciting contrary opinions from medical practitioners even within the same hospital. Surgery or no surgery, ice or heat, impact injury or overuse injury, anti-inflammatory or no anti-inflammatory, lifestyle changing or not: all of these variations have grounds for debate and find few willing to be dogmatic.

So where does it leave me - other than hobbling like Long John Silver over to the recliner to debate whether I should ice or heat my knee? I don't know. My questions to the doctors was, "So, basically, it's trial and error. If something tends to make it better then I continue doing it; if worse, then avoid it. Once I'm back to normal the same rules apply." Nods all around. Is it any wonder that many of us stand dubious of the sagacity attributed to practitioners in the medical profession?

Don't get me wrong - I wouldn't return to medieval lancing and leaches. My point would be better taken as caution against assuming that for each malady and variation thereof there also exists a precise medical remedy.

The surgeon recommended that I consider running and cycling shorter distances (Lifestyle Change) and see if I can control future inflammation in that manner. After he had left the examination room, the sports doctor, whom I felt understood my psyche far better than any of the others, lowered his voice as if fearing to be overheard through the closed door. "I don't necessarily agree with the surgeon," he said. Dr. Weiss then described a scenario where I do what I enjoy for the next 30 years and end up with arthritis - or whatever - when I'm 60. Possible. He went on to describe another scenario where I back off, abandon my passion, and take up quilting or needle point. I then end up with arthritis - or whatever - when I'm 70.

What am I to do?
Nothing in life is guaranteed. Live life to the fullest. Discretion is the better part of valor.
You pick the cliche - but again, there is no precise remedy to the academic/emotional malady I face.

As a follower of Christ Jesus, I recognize the sovereignty of God - nebulous though that also may be - and by faith (because after all, what else is there considering the fact that we can't be everywhere to know everything) accept the fact that the sovereign, good, and omnipotent God is capable of taking a presumably ill course of events and making them, in retrospect, a mere stairway to a far greater good.

I recognize and acknowledge this divine capacity. This should give peace. And it does - at those times I'm actively acknowledging the same.

But the understanding of that concept is like perceiving sunlight, between drifting clouds,
shimmering on the ripples of a pond. At times the wind dies down, and clouds drift apart leaving a spectacular brilliance reflecting, because of the nature and geometry of reflection, in the eyes of a person standing in just the right place. Other times the wind picks up and the ripples spread the sunlight like a vast prism casting the reflected rays in a more subdued, but no less spectacular, pattern against any who may be close enough to observe. But inevitably the clouds scud by and by no fault of the sun (or is it possible, inversely as a direct result of the nature of that vital and requisite flame?) obscure all brilliance.

Some times I stand at the side of that pond absorbing both the direct and indirect light of the sun. I move and take up a different position in response to the intensity of that light and in a breeze find myself dazzled by a less potent but no less impressive understanding of the nature of the source. But then I make no move at all and yet the spectacle fades as a cloud moves by seeming to change even the nature of my pastoral surroundings.

And I recognize that in spite of surroundings (those I can control: I could drain the pond or move my position, and those I cannot: the clouds that float over my head), a life-giving Force exists that I must recognize my dependence on and submit my passions to.

And my knee is still swollen.
I can follow doctor's orders. I can run today and hope for the best. I can decide to take up quilting, sell the bikes, and stash the Reeboks...

...I can be content with not knowing which of those is right and simply choose to move forward, making moment by moment decisions based on knowledge and good judgment, with alacrity, and in anticipation of my Sovereign's greater good.