First day in St. Joseph

As far as weekend getaway vacations go, it's hard to beat southwestern Michigan. The weather is cooler, the beaches cleaner, and the roads safer than in the south this time of year. On top of that, the drive is about half (or less!) than it would take to get ot Charleston, SC.

Leisa and I made it up here in around 4 hours driving time, really not bad at all. We did have a one-hour stop in a small restaurant in an even smaller town - Monon, Indiana. It was a train-themed restaurant, and though the service was interminably slow, the food was okay, and the atmosphere was worth the stop and wait. I wouldn't go back mind you, but I'm glad I've seen it.

Since it is Sunday afternoon, and since most of the shops were either closed or closing, we took a cursory look at the downtown area. It's nice - Bedford could take some notes here - but small. Still it's withing easy walking distance of the beach, which in itself has some shopping and other attractions. It's a good place for a family to spend a day.

We walked around a bit, grabbed a bite to eat at a Mexican restaurant nearby, then went for a walk down a pier and on a beach. Sure, it sounds like a Geritol or Viagra commercial, but it was nice. I really love my alone time with Leisa.

While driving around we started scoping out places to run and ride tomorrow. Leisa wants to hit the upscale home neighborhoods, which I'm sure we'll visit. There are some nice running paths in the area as well. After that we'll go shopping again, and maybe catch a movie. We'll take it as it comes, the way we do best!

Swim, run, and calendars

I wound up with a shorter run than planned this morning. That's not a biggie, as I am running Saturday. I'll make it up then. What I did get was a good swim. Tonight Allen, Greg, Morgan J., and I went to BNL. I put in a mile there, and Allen did 1000.

The only thing worth talking about today was Greg's request for a group messaging system. To that end I've created a gmail account for the Amish Riders. Associated with that account is a calendar. The plan is simple; I will release the account information to all our group. Then if anyone wants to add an event to the calendar they can.

I'm going to test it for a couple of days. If all works well I'll release the info to you guys later.

The Burr-Eye and Me

I tried to run with the girls this morning, but events (I won't go into it) prevented me from going very far. Oh well... I'd ride with the Burr-Eye (Allen and Lester), then run with Jimmy later.

The appointed hour came, and as I pulled into Lighthouse, the boys were still waiting, bikes still loaded in their trucks. You see, a line of storms was approaching from the northwest, and they wondered if maybe we should start from Allen's church. I thought it was a good idea, if not for the same reason Allen suggested it. I think (maybe erroneously) that Allen believed if we moved south some we'd avoid the storm. I had no such illusion. If we rode, we would get wet, period. My thought was I'd rather be on the flatter stretches with more shelter if we got caught out. Having to come back on Rabbitsville in a heavy storm didn't make sense.

So we unloaded at the church. This is where I almost won breakfast. Allen asked what I thought - meaning, would we beat the rain. "Let me be clear," says I, "we are going to get wet." There was no equivocation about my statement. I can interpret a radar. No way we could avoid what was coming. I just wasn't afraid of it. As long as there was no hail, I was fine. Allen said, "I'd just about make a bet with you on that." Man, I wish he'd bitten.

We set out towards Huck's, Lester in tow, and we cruised. Sure, the line to the north was dark when we left, but onward we rode. There was a slight headwind going out, so it looked as though we'd get pushed home if we needed it.

We were headed east into Huck's when we saw the first clear flash of lightning away to the north in Mitchell. "Turn now!", I said. Small matter. Though I'd stated I didn't think this storm, which had taken all day to get through Illinois, would pick up speed and catch us out, that's precisely what it did. I had about enough time to caution Lester about not doing anything sudden on the rain-soaked roads we were about to face when we rode into it.

All the great plans of having a tailwind were dashed as the storm's downdraft blast hit us. Rushing in from the northwest, it was a jet blast of cold air. Both Allen and I were riding our aero wheels, and as many miles as I've put on them and as much experience as I have doing so, it was difficult to keep my bike on the road. The lateral winds were... substantial. The rain was heavy, and visibility quickly dropped. Traffic buzzed around us, and still we rode on. What else could we do? We were midway down the Amish Super 2. Nothing to do for it but ride on.

Near the end of that straightaway the lightning began to get serious. This was the only time we seriously considered trying to find shelter. However, by the time we figured out a place, it let off a little, and we were so close to finishing we just rode it in.

It was only 16.5 miles, but we earned every one of them. It's the wettest I've been on a bike in years. The good news is my bike got a very thorough wash. I even lubed it up afterward.

Though another line of storms was approaching, I went to Jimmy's at 5:15. His luck held, and we were able to get all 5 miles in before the line hit us. So, even though I didn't get as many miles as I hoped today (actually, about half), I did bike. The run was a standard distance, and keeps my week on track.

Tomorrow I run with the girls and swim. That's about all!

Finally did it

This week has gotten off to a slow start again, and I found myself with too few miles today. The plan was to rectify the situation by riding 20 miles before the group ride started, thereby totaling half my week in two rides (as I should). If I could pull that off without taxing myself too far, my week would be back on track.

Of course it was pretty hot and humid - temps in the low 90's, real feel over a 100 degrees - and a pretty strong WSW wind made going south difficult. Sweat dripped from my helmet as I made my way to Huck's, and my McDonald's jersey was soaked by the halfway point. So much for conserving! Good thing I'd taken a couple of precautionary Enduralytes before the ride!

Back at the church, guys were showing up. Eventually we wound up with 9 riders at the start. Taking a new way out, we pedaled easily toward the county line. About halfway there I proposed a different type of line tonight. I suggested, since we had 9 riders, three 3-man teams. This is something we've discussed before, and recently James and I talked a lot about. The idea I had was that the talent be split evenly, that is, a fast/medium/slow combination. It would probably result in a strong rider pulling longer, but it would also allow the weaker rider to be pulled along much faster than was possible alone. Each team had to finish with all riders, so everyone's speed would come to a certain level (if all went according to plan).

To my surprise everyone agreed to give the team concept a try, with a slight alteration - our group tonight favored grouping by ability. I have to admit, my original suggestion would take a great deal of thought and planning to get just right, whereas grouping by ability would be straight forward. Much easier to handle on the fly, as we were doing.

So it was settled; we'd get to the pee tree and break the groups up. I'm pretty sure it would have worked, if we weren't surprised by the appearance of two extra riders waiting for us at the tree. There, sitting in the shade patiently, were DfO and Miller. Both had gotten a late start and went straight to the tree.

Now we had 11 riders. The 3-man teams became 2-man teams, and I rode alone. I could have gotten on with another group, but that would have spoiled any comparison with the other teams. I really didn't mind either - I was on the Cannondale testing a wheel I'd had repaired. There was a fair chance I'd have to pull out anyway, so it was really best if I rode alone. It worked out as it should.

So we took off in one-minute intervals, the first group being Scott and Galloway. One minute later Rand and Allen sped off, then Roy and Jimmy, DfO and Greg, Miller and Troy, then me. Now it was time to throw down.

There really wasn't any danger I'd catch Troy and Miller - they both are too strong, and honestly, with them working together I would wear down before they did. I did hope to close the gap, and that's where I focused my energy. I didn't want to think about my dry throat, or that I'd already ridden almost 40 miles, or that it was humid, or I was on a slow bike... these are negative thoughts that do nothing to advance your efforts. Far better to focus on the pressure in my chest, keeping it in the target range, the distance to the bikes ahead, the feel of the pedals, the wind on my back as I hit aero... things that can be controlled.

The wind was laying down a bit by now - it was after 7, after all - but it had turned more southerly, and slightly helpful. It was blowing in from our 8 o'clock position. Helpful, but not dominant in effect.

By the end of the first straightaway I had the gap down to 40 seconds. That was the easy one though. See, that meant each Miller and Troy had one pull apiece. A 5-minute pull is no problem for me at speed, so to this point, all things being equal, we'd put out roughly equivalent efforts. This is where I figured things would get rougher. They would continue to rotate to the front, which meant they would get a chance to refresh. On the other hand, I would be wearing down continuously as the ride progressed. That gap would surely grow again. I focused on holding speed, hoping to delay the inevitable.

The gap did appear to shrink and grow over the next few miles. These guys were moving, and they gobbled up the pair ahead of them (DfO and Greg). I caught them shortly after, about a half-mile before the big drop. Still the gap held.

On the big downhill into Lost River Valley, the expected happened. My front rim began to squawl loadly in protest. It's an old rim, and twice I've had new bearings put into it. It's no use. Once I went over 35 mph the rim went nuts. I was briefly afraid it might come apart, but thankfully as my speed bled back down to 32, the noise stopped. I was able to continue my pursuit through the valley.

I saw them enter the hill, and I was closing, but I had a plan here - cruise the hill. I was too tapped from the start, the humidity was too thick, and I knew there would be no 20+ mph climb this week. I actually topped under 15 mph, but it didn't matter. Within a minute over the top I was back up to 27 mph. And I was closing fast.

Up the last hill, I could see the gap shrinking. I was perhaps 100 yards away when they topped. That's when my good fortunes ended. You see, Miller looked back. I knew the second he saw me I'd never catch them. That's all it took. It's easy to understand - if I had been in his place, there's no way I'd let him catch me. Maybe he'd get close, but he would not catch me.

Once I topped, indeed the gap had exploded again. I rode down the hill hard, plowed through the rollers, and pushed through the final straight. Yes, I was closing, but there was no chance for a catch. I got their time for the finish, and 12 seconds later I followed.

Listening to the excited chatter as everyone gathered, I knew it had been successful. Everyone got a good workout. By going 2-man teams, no one got to rest completely, yet it wasn't as hard as an individual time trial. By grouping by ability, no one was dropped. Certainly there were dominant riders in each pair, but it was close enough to work.

The final numbers looked like this:

Greg/DfO - 26:40 for 22.50 mph
Galloway/Scott - 26:36 for 22.55 mph
Allen/Rand - 24:52 for 24.12 mph
Jimmy/Roy - 24:24 for 24.59 mph
Miller/Troy - 23:32 for 25.49 mph
IronBill - 22:47 for 26.33 mph

The unexpected bonus - since I did mine as an individual time trial, it qualifies for Strava KOM. I really wasn't chasing that as much as I was chasing Troy and Miller. I was aware late in the ride I had a shot at it, and it did help me keep pushing. It goes to show you how even when you think you don't feel well and you don't want to try in a workout, you should always push through and give it a shot. Sometimes good stuff will happen in spite of how you feel.

The workout was generally well-received. I don't know when we'll do something quite like it again, but I think with the mix of people we had today, it was pretty much the right thing to do. An 11-man pace line is dangerous under the best of circumstances, and the disparity of fitness would have made such an attempt insane. The suggestion for 3-4 man groups is a valid one, and I think more what we normally do. Still, it was nice to try this out, and I'm very happy with the outcome - even if I didn't get to team with anyone!

Two runs and done

We're starting the fourth week of the summer for girls' cross conditioning, and today we extended the mileage to 6 miles minimum. Everyone went 6, some slightly longer. I'm happy to say once again everyone did well in spite of the rising humidity. It's a very positive start to the 2013 campaign.

After that I grabbed my Mavic box front and headed to Bike Doctor in Bloomington. I wound up getting a new set of bearings - one last try to save the rim. I think it is probably doomed, but since a new rim would be a minimum of $400, I might as well give it a shot. I really need to get it right before Leisa and I head to Michigan this weekend. We're planning on taking a mini-vacation in the St. Joseph area, and would like to tour the are on bikes. It should be fun!

After I got home I wanted to test the rim, but wouldn't you know it, the weather threatened again. It's not that I'm complaining really; I greatly prefer the weather this summer to last year's drought conditions. Still I have no desire to be caught in dangerous conditions, and the pattern now is for sudden strong cells to pop up any time anywhere, dropping copious amounts of rain, lightning, and hail. Since I didn't absolutely have to have the miles, I let it go.

I ran again in the afternoon with the Jimmyless group. Apparently Jimmy had a meeting and blew us off. His loss. We had a great 5-mile run, and Rowan entertained us the whole way by making fun of Yours Truly. True, he followed the low-brow suggestions of his father quite eagerly, but it was a funny time.

I'd say Rowan's vocabulary and sense of humor are developing quite nicely. He also appears to have a firm grip on his colors. I even taught him "Burgundy" and "Tope". WinD, you can thank me later for the new game, "I Spy With My Little Eye".

We ride tomorrow night. Some may even run after, but I won't be one of them. I will likely show early, ride at least 20, then ride with the group. I expect we'll see Shephard and James, I know we'll see Galloway and Scott, but beyond that I cannot say for sure who is and who is not coming. Oh, I can also say I will be going to Wendy's after!

My Hero

Just a short one tonight... tired, have a lot going on, and there wasn't a whole lot to write about today. Well, almost nothing.

I don't run Sunday mornings for the time being because it's the only day of the week I can sleep in. I feel like I need at least one, so I'm taking it. Between running with the girls and working out with the guys it's challenging for this old guy. I need my beauty sleep.

So it wasn't until this afternoon before my workouts began. The plan was to swim at Kenray at 3, then ride afterward, probably from Kenray to Norman Station. That would put us between 25-30 miles, a good brick. The problem was the weather. Almost as soon as it was time to head to the lake, storm cells began to explode all over the area. I seriously doubted we'd be able to swim, but I went anyway.

Roy, Scott, Allen, Rand, Jimmy, and I all showed, all but Scott swam. The storms stayed just far enough away for us to safely do it, which I attribute completely to the combined luck of Allen and Jimmy. It's like having two lucky rabbit's feet. We all wound up swimming three laps, except Allen (who went two).

This is where I wish to insert how much I respect Allen. A year ago this day would have been completely impossible. I've taught swimming since I was 14 - I know scared when I see it, and Allen was terrified of swimming when he started. I don't say that to mock him at all, actually quite the reverse. For him to overcome that fear and do what he's done is a testament to his resolve to accomplish a goal. I've seen this resolve in him over and over, and he's done things he's had no right and no hope doing simply because of his dogged determination.

Allen went skydiving yesterday. He's never been up before, and I kidded him a bit about that first step, and asked him if it was hard. I've done it before, and I had no qualms whatsoever. I am also an ultralight pilot, so the height thing was nothing to me. Which is exactly why it wasn't a daredevil stunt for me. It was fun, and I'd certainly do it again if it were cheaper, but scary? Not a bit.

Allen wore his Garmin and heart rate monitor throughout the experience. It's funny data to analyze, especially near the end when he jumped. Leisa remarked, "His heart rate only went into the 130's..." Only. ONLY?! Listen, if you are effectively sitting in a chair and your heart rate suddenly jumps into the 130's... well, something big happened. Allen is a trained athlete, which means his resting heart rate is likely in the 50's. He was basically staying in the 70's until the big moment. 60-beat jump in pulse? That's a big deal.

Allen didn't lie to me - he said it was scary. And he did it anyway. That's what brave is. Facing your fear and going through with something that scares the crap out of you is brave. Allen and I have both jumped from a plane, but he was the brave one. We have both swum in a lake, but he's the brave one. Gotta respect that.

We were forced to forego the ride at Kenray because the storm cells were all around. However, as we returned to town it became obvious the cells were shrinking, and we might in fact be able to ride after all. So Jimmy, Roy, and Scott rode to my house, we headed to Industrial for a hill repeat workout, and Rand joined us on course. In the end we all got about 20 miles in, and it wound up being a beautiful evening to boot. Go figure.

Tomorrow I run with the girls. I'll probably add another run in the afternoon, a pattern that has worked for me thus far this summer. A ride? We'll have to see. 

Out of the Ashes

As previously noted, by midweek this week it looked as if all numbers were squashed, and making the quota would be next to impossible. Not that it would have been a terrible thing... Jim-N-I, though not a race, affects the body exactly the way a long course race would. Like it or not, that was over 5 hours of strenuous activity in the sun. A down week this week might have even been a good idea - no, a great idea. Unfortunately it's not where my mind was.

I took Sunday off, because frankly I had to. The end of Saturday's run was pretty much the end of me for at least a day. I knew I wouldn't run the next day, but there had been a slim hope for a ride. By midday Sunday, that hope had evaporated.

Monday came and went. I wound up with two runs for 11 miles, and I figured that was enough for a day. I wasn't fully recovered yet, and I knew it.

Tuesday... this is where I planned to make it up. I would go early, put in enough miles so that I wound up with 50-60 miles by the end of the evening. I didn't have to run, my legs were more rested, it was doable. With two more 40+ rides on the week, my mileage would be fine. Not a full week, but I didn't really have to have a full week.

Then it stormed on Tuesday, and that went out the window. With my back to the wall, I rode big on Wednesday and got everything back on track. A swim Thursday even got the swim yardage in. One more ride and a few runs were all that separated me from my full week.

The plan was to run then ride on Saturday. Along with the 118 already banked, I had easily enough in the plan to meet and exceed the 150 goal. The runs were in the bag too. Then Allen asked for a ride today. I thought  about it. I really only needed 32 for the week, and his Lighthouse ride would fit the bill. I'd run with the girls in the morning and then ride with him right after. The schedule was tight, but doable. And, by doing this, I left myself with a lot of flexibility for Saturday.

Our ride was easy, the weather was beautiful, and everyone got what they needed. The girls got to run at Spring Mill; Allen got to ride once this week before leaving for his sky-diving adventure; and I made my weekly bike mileage. Anything I get tomorrow is gravy now.

Allen was talking today about his French Lick ride, which we may do next week. Looking forward to this 85-mile odyssey! 

I didn't invent fire, but...

Okay, just so you know, I'm aware I'm not the only biker in southern Indiana. I'm aware there are bikers that live outside Bedford, and they are likely scattered all over the southern part of the state. I'm even going to bet there are riders in Bedford that have scoured the southern part of the state, riding every imaginable road in the process.

But... I'm the first one I know of that's ridden from Bedford to Palmyra and back.

This worked out to be a nearly perfect 100-mile ride. I mean... it was meant to be, that simple. Let me explain...

Since we were prevented by natural events (severe storms) from riding last night, I found myself today desperately short of miles on the bike. Eighteen stinking miles by Wednesday is no way to make 150 by Saturday. I needed something special today to make the week.

My first break was the weather, which as often happens after a storm front passes was clear and cool. This allowed me to reasonably consider riding long. Sure, I'd run with the girls in the morning, but it was a leisurely pace. With any luck nothing serious was taken out of me.

The second break was time. Leisa had plans for most of the day, so being gone wasn't going to be a problem. And... gotta love summer break.

Third break - I was relatively well rested. This wasn't by design, but it was now an advantage under the circumstances.

All I had to do was get on the bike and start riding. I wasn't gung-ho to go. I mean really, who looks forward to 5-7 hours of constant physical activity, double the longest ride you might have had in the last 2 months? To be honest, I was worried about it. Just a bit.

I'd had it in my mind to ride down to Hardinsburg and back for 80 miles. That seemed a reasonable goal, it would put me back on track for the week, and I hadn't done it in a while. A little thought kept gnawing at the back of my consciousness... a discussion we had at the Wendy's Pow-Wow... Troy talked about riding down through Salem and into Palmyra. Of course he wanted to hook west after that, head back to Paoli, then north to his home. The math didn't add up for me to try it - I start quite a bit farther north, so that would likely turn into something in the 120-140 range. That would be suicide.

No, I would ride south, get on 60 in Mitchell and head towards Spring Mill. If traffic wasn't bad, I'd consider riding to Campbellsburg. From there, maybe to Salem. After all, there and back would be in the 70 mile range. I could add a little and get 80. Plus if you catch 60 at the right time of day, it's a sweet ride.

Well, traffic wasn't that great, but my mind was already made up. I cruised down to Campbellsburg. The wind was light, but it was against me. This was both unusual and good. This meant I would have something to help me get back, however light it was. I got down to Salem feeling good, so I rode through town and headed to 135. Did I have the nerve to try it?

135 is a Super-2, and it was SWEET! Sure, there were a few long grades, but they weren't all that steep. The wide shoulder made it all worthwhile - absolutely plenty of room to ride, and great views all around. I was going to ride out to the 40-mile mark and turn, but when I got to that point I got all Gumpy and said, "Well, I figure since I've ridden this far I might as well ride to 50!" I hoped to be in Palmyra by then. I wasn't sure how far from Salem it was, only that it was directly south.

It worked out perfectly. I rolled into town right on the mark. I stopped for a drink and a candy bar, then headed back. It had taken something like 2:50 to get to that point, so I was looking at a 5:40ish overall time. That was fine by me. This being the first 100 of the year, I couldn't expect too much. What happened next surprised me.

I was heading mostly northeast, which was taking me into a headwind - light, but there. Also, the elevation was rising all the way back to Salem. What I expected from that was a slower time. The opposite occurred. All of a sudden I'm starting to climb over the 20 mark and spent most of my time well above it. I don't know why. I was purposely cautious all the way out, averaging under 18 to the turn. Maybe I had a lot of gas left. I don't know. But something was definitely up.

I cruised through Salem, got back on 60 (sorry to see 135 go!), climbed out of Salem, then hit the flats. And then it got nuts. From the top of the hill to Campbellsburg I was seeing numbers of 23, 24, 25, 26... I was having no trouble holding 24.5. Heading northwest gave me a bit of a tailwind, but there wasn't much wind at all in any direction - under 5 mph. The counterbalancing force was I was becoming dehydrated. I'd stopped at 25 and 50, planned to stop at 75, but I was beginning to get the early stages of muscle cramps. The smart move would have been to back down and conserve. Never been accused of being smart though. I had speed and I wasn't going to give it up. Sure, I'd pay for it later, but I was going.

I stopped at Campbellsburg, took another Diet Coke, then hit it again. I knew the road wouldn't change all that much, and this would be a good chance to get a substitute ride for last night's missed workout. Plus I knew I could create a Strava segment and check the pace later.

Starting at Campbellsburg and going to almost Spring Mill is a little over 10 miles. I did the 10.1 course in 25:42 for 23.6 mph - in miles 75 to 85 of a century. It's not John T. good, but it's good.

So now I was getting a little nauseous. I eased up, but still the numbers hovered around 20 mph. I needed to get back before the cramping got out of control. I considered the paths back - highway or Rabbitsville? I started to go Rabbitsville, then I remembered on the way out all the gravel strewn about the road by last night's storms. I'd been lucky not to flat before. I didn't wish to push my luck again. To the highway it was.

I didn't want to push, and with a northeast breeze (light) I certainly wasn't going to get any help. Still it was the best option, and I went with it. Aero position was tough by now. I alternately sat up and laid over, my overriding concern being that long climb on the Cut to come.

It was rather anti-climactic. Though slow, nothing popped on the way up, and once on top, I knew I had it in the bag. Better still, I'd made remarkable time on the way back, and was now averaging nearly 19 mph. There was even a chance to get to 5:17, my all-time best 100 time. It didn't happen, mainly because I was too stressed to chase it. I finished the ride upright in my second-best 100 time, put away the gear, then showered. I found some leftover chicken in the fridge (I ate the bones!), and now I am trying to apply liberal amounts of Diet Coke to my lingering thirst.

Would I do this ride again? YES, but with a caveat - traffic has to be light. Highway 60 can be a dangerous road to ride if semi traffic is heavy. The 135 stretch just about makes it worth the entry price to get there though. It is my new favorite road to ride, hands down. On top of that, there are opportunities for breaks at regular intervals (I did it every 25 miles). Take traffic out of the equation and you'd be hard pressed to find a better 100-mile course.

There will be no ride for me tomorrow. We have one planned for Saturday morning, and that will be more than enough to make my week. No, right now I'm only thinking about what's going in my belly over the next few hours...

Oh! The ride data!

The Pace Line That Wasn't

My applause to all the studs who showed to ride tonight - John T., Scott, Roy, Allen, Miller, Troy, myself - and a nod to those that considered it - Greg, Jimmy - because the weather was totally against all sane efforts to conduct this weekly event.

I arrived early. My plan was to add up to 20 miles before the ride so I could get a jump on the week. I didn't ride Sunday because I was too sore from Saturday's event. Yesterday I begged off because it looked like the weather was closing in. Tonight it did.

I took an easy spin south to Huck's, starting from Allen's church. It was an hour round trip for 18 miles, not hard at all. However, on the way back, the clouds I feared would develop into an individual storm cell exceeded my worst expectations and had exploded into a squall line hovering just north of Mitchell.

I didn't expect anyone to arrive, but sure enough, as I entered the lot upon my return, Scott was unloading his bike. Rookie, I thought. No way a ride was going to happen. Then Miller pulled up. Jimmy called. Allen rolled in. John T. rolled in. Roy. Troy. My gosh, do these guys know something I don't?

We gathered our smartphones, and as soon as we could get a clear map open, it was obvious the ride wouldn't happen - at least not yet. Oh sure, a couple of the guys wanted to go anyway. They could go, I wasn't. The clouds were turning green as the cell intensified. That meant lightning and hail. No thanks.

I announced I was going to Wendy's to wait it out. The rest followed. We had a nice meal, a nice long chat afterward, but we did NOT have a ride. By the time we got to the restaurant the winds had picked up to over 30 mph hard out of the northwest, and hail soon followed. Oh, and there was the torrential downpour that went along with it. I can say in an unqualified fashion we made the right choice. It would have been far too dangerous to go out under those conditions.

So, we were thwarted this week. It happens! I think I will get on the bike after practice tomorrow and ride until I get sick of it. The weather is supposed to be gorgeous; might as well take advantage of it. Leisa has plans pretty much all over the day, so I won't have to drop anything to do it. And if I'm lucky I will get a long ride that will get me back on track for the week. Here's hoping anyway.

We did get one thing done tonight - we decided on a swim time for Thursday. BNL pool, 7 PM Thursday. All invited. 

Jim-N-I 2013

Jim-N-I 2013, the 10th year of this illustrious day of exercise held annually, dawned cool and bright. A somewhat smaller group of Bedford participants trekked to Sullivan in the early morning hours for what promised to be a full day of testing our fitness mettle.

First came the swim. Only six people swam this year - Kathy, Andie, John T., Allen, Jimmy, and myself. One of the six wore a wetsuit despite the 80 degree water temperature (which by the way was one of the finer swim temperatures we've ever encountered). I'll let you guess who it was.

We couldn't start from Steve's dock because of beavers. That's right, a family of beavers had taken residence over the winter and built a dam right off Steve's dock! We moved about 100 yards up the lake and started at the neighbor's dock instead.

Everyone did well. A few of us did the full 3 laps (1.2 miles) - Andie, Kathy, Jimmy, and me. John T. did a couple laps, and Allen completed one full lap. That's a big deal. Last year at this time it was a much shorter trip.

The ride had quite a few more. Fourteen participants started, fourteen finished, though we did complete different distances.

Thirteen riders crossed Highway 40, six of which took part in the pace line. Steve took the ceremonial first pull, and since this was the first time the P5 ever did the Jim-N-I, a point had to be made. Steve complied. His 28+ mph first pull fulfilled all expectations. Jimmy took the 2nd pull, as usual, and he wasn't much lighter on the effort. John T. went next, and the pressure continued. Allen had been in front of me for a time, but as the pressure kept up, he rotated toward the back, skipping the pull. His cadence was high and he was breathing hard. I wasn't sure how long it would last.

Springer was next up. His speed wasn't all that high, or that long for that matter. We'd gone a couple of minutes when Steve called for a quick nature break. Once completed, Springer called his pull over. I took over then. Springer finished with a comment along the lines of, "I don't know how smart it is to hand off on this hill." I really didn't know what he meant. I promised to go no faster than they had, and I kept my word.

We went only 22-23 mph in my first part of my pull. Yes, there was an uphill in it, and yes, we had a rough wind. It wasn't easy to hold the speed. Also, since the wind wasn't directly in the face, it was difficult to draft off the person in front of you - meaning the people behind weren't getting a draft from me.

Anyway, when we hit the first major intersection of the line, I slowed to look back. Everyone was off. Every. Single. Rider. John T. was close and quickly caught. Everyone else was strung out almost a quarter mile back. This was stupid, and I told John so. We needed to slow down and keep everyone on. It was silly to split the group up, especially since it was so small to begin with. On top of that, we came over to work out with Steve. Stupid to drop him in the first 5 miles of the line.

I continued the pull to Miram. Speed was a lot more moderate, 20-21, though it was pretty much into a headwind. The wind would be an issue all day as it turned out. John T. had the next pull, and he took a nice long one. He did a great job, in fact, for a guy that ran in the Relay for Life the night before, he looked remarkably fresh.

Steve regained his confidence and pulled again, and had a very strong effort. So did Jimmy. I've never seen Jimmy pull better or longer than he did then. Springer had a nice effort for his second as well.

At this point we were 24.5 miles into the ride. The break would come at 30 miles, and the hill in the last mile before that. The hill is not really that big, especially by Bedford standards, but it comes at exactly the wrong time. I decided everyone had had two pulls, and I wasn't going to give John T. another hard pull in the first 30. I felt great, so I was going to finish this segment.

By now the wind was starting to favor us, so naturally the speed went up some. I was afraid to push too hard - everyone was still on (except Allen, who'd fallen off for good early on), and I really wanted all to stay together to the break. As we neared the hill I could see two cyclists ahead, the Sullivans, and one looked back just as I could make them out. That's when one of the riders broke away.

I knew what he was thinking. While we were gaining fast, he was trying to get to the rest area before we caught him. It was close, but he just nipped us. We continued up the hill (he stopped), and crested over 19 mph. I've never taken the hill faster. True, we broke up a bit on the way up, but we all got to the hill together. That was the main thing.

We stopped at the SAG, began to re-hydrate, and waited for the others to make it in. They trickled in over the next 10-15 minutes, and all riders made it safely. Even better... all riders rode out. Andie briefly considered ending her day then, but she Boiler'd up and finished the ride.

On the way back no one really made an effort to start another line - at first. We were strung out over half a mile by the turn, but no one was pushing. I was on the back talking with Andie and Mike when I looked up. Way off in the distance, almost a mile down the road, were three riders in a line. "Who is that?", I asked Mike. He surmised it was John T., Allen, and Jimmy. And he was right.

Part of me wanted to just let them go, but the Bill in me wouldn't let it happen. "Gotta run them down!" I said, and shot from the rear of the line in pursuit. This wasn't an invitation to join me as much as an announcement I was going. Think of the Tour de France when someone breaks out of the peloton to catch a breakaway group. It was a big gap and growing fast, and unless I moved then, it would be impossible to cover.

Cranking it up to 26 or so, I spent a few minutes running them down. Now to be fair, they weren't riding hard - if they had been, I could never have caught them. John T. all by himself could have held me off, much less three riders taking turns on the front. As it was, it gave me another good hard segment of riding. Once I caught them, we took turns pulling until we got back to 40.

The four of us came to the final stretch, where John T. asked if we were going to ride across the gravel. That was a reference to last year, when I snaked the guys to finish first by riding across the gravel. Of course I did it again. I pushed up the speed again to keep challengers off, and thought I had it wrapped up. Good thing I looked back. John was charging hard. I had to hit the pedals again, then the riding victory was sealed. That was payback for Tuesday's sprint finish!

By now it was warming up. The cloud cover had been consistent, but if the sun did pop out, things would heat up quickly. We needed to get moving, because it was only going to get hotter. The riders all finished in the next few minutes and began to prepare for the 9-mile run to come.

I hate this run. It's not pretty, it's always hot, and I'm always suffering badly by the end. It doesn't matter what pace I take it, I suffer. I wasn't looking forward to it, but worse, I wasn't looking forward to waiting to do it either.

Most everyone was ready, and had been for some time. We were lined up for the photo. One runner couldn't be found. The runner came out of the house and went through gear, apparently oblivious to all the runners standing and waiting. Another photo. Another stab for gear. Then another. Then another.

That was it. In my time with this group, I know one thing; sometimes the only way you start running is if someone runs right through the group and starts running. So I did. The group didn't start with me right away, but they did start shortly after. Whatever it takes, I guess.

I ran slowly, allowing folks time to catch. Since I was running nearly 9:30 pace and they weren't catching, I knew they didn't want to. Fine. I could run by myself too. One runner did break off the group, Cheyanne, and after a bit I circled back and ran with him. He did a great job, if for only 3 miles. He's Neil's best man for his wedding, a law school graduate, and former Bicknell student. Nice guy. Wish he'd run farther.

I didn't stop at the break. What would be the point? It wasn't going to make me feel better and the separation was so great. By now I could barely see anyone behind. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible.

By now the sun was popping out, and sure enough, it was getting hot. We finished the ride at 90 degrees - you can only guess it was getting hotter. As the run progressed I could really begin to feel it too. I'd eaten too much during the ride SAG, and I was becoming nauseous. I couldn't really drink much of the water I was carrying, all I could do was maintain my effort.

Second stop came and went, and I sailed through that too. I knew I'd finish the run, but it wasn't going to be fun. The 8th mile especially, with the hill, was a drag. But I knew once that one was over, the worst of the run was done. The hill came and went, and eventually I was in the driveway and finished.

I had an overwhelming need to lay down right away. I was very hot and nauseous, and afraid I might start cramping convulsively. Fortunately the last part didn't happen, but it was a bit before I could stand up without being sick.

Ten minutes went by before Kathy came in, followed shortly by Jimmy (pushing KJ in a stroller). They'd run together until Kathy dropped Jimmy (who had to stop and pick up KJ's shoes).

Everyone made it back in - even Allen, who looked sicker than I did. I surrendered the hammock that had given me such comfort because it was obvious he needed it more than I.

The rest of the afternoon was taken with showers, meals, and Frisbee golf. Sorry to Denny that he had to partner with me - I am a crummy Frisbee golf player. I had no strength left to throw a Frisbee for that matter. I was his walking handicap.

Anyway, thanks to the Blacks for another terrific day. Anyone who missed it, well, missed it. Oh, and the award medals this year were outstanding!

A run, a ride, and a movie

Thanks, Walmart!

I want to start with a big "Thank YOU!" to Walmart for a preview of "Man of Steel". While it's true tonight's showing was intended only for Walmart workers and their family members, Leisa and I did manage to slip in. Felt a little like Jimmy I would imagine. Anyway, when the movie was over we had to slip out before someone didn't recognize us.



The day actually started with a run, which turned into a wet one. The girls team did manage to practice this morning despite a downpour late in the 5-miler. It didn't hurt, even though we were soaked. Thankfully it was warm enough the rain actually felt pretty good.

Later, Leisa and I went for a ride. She was supposed to ride in the morning, but the aforementioned rain and wind persuaded her to remain in a warm and dry bed instead. We waited until the afternoon, and by then sky was beginning to clear some. It was still very windy, though that didn't stop us. I wanted 20, to which she agreed... then we got to the point I was about to turn us, and she behaved just like all my friends - she changed the plan. "Care to go 5 more miles?" Like I'd say no. I think she planned to pop that on me all along, though she denies it.

Back to the movie... we were planning to see, "Now You See Me". I was more interested in spending the evening with Leisa than the movie, so it was fine by me. However... after we paid for tickets and were heading to our movie I noticed the main theater was showing Superman. No one was guarding the door, so... in we went.

As for the movie itself... if you go, bear in mind it's a prequel. More specifically, it's a relaunch. That means the franchise is restarting, and the new team wants to put a new spin on it. To that end, they've done a great job. The characters are well-cast, and Leisa assures me the new Superman is hot. Well, "eye-candy" was here exact description. It was a little slow in the early going, but that is how all prequels go. Once the action got going, it didn't stop. I would give it a B+ as superhero movies go. Definitely worth seeing, but it won't wow people the way the first Spider-Man and Ironman did. It will satisfy comic book aficionados, who won't mind at all the liberties taken with the tried-and-true formula of the Superman/Clark Kent alter-ego dilemma.

Summary: well-cast, reasonably compelling story, villains were villainy without being excessively villainous. Zod wasn't a one-dimensional cartoon of evil he's usually cast as, and even Jor-El was given a different seasoning with the fine acting of Russell Crowe. 

Wrung out

This is funny, I don't care who you are.

I often talk about writing my memoirs, the next great American novel. I've tossed many possible titles around, including my personal favorite "Die Cat, Die!", but today I decided on another candidate:

"Oh! THIS Is What I Hate About Indiana Summer!"

It was the first great foretaste of what is to come - temperatures in the 90's, dew points in the 70's, humidity in the 60's. Yup, that's crappy weather for just about anything you want to do outside. It didn't matter. There were unalterable events and schedules that needed to occur, and they did in spite of the weather.

First was the girls' practice. I run with the front group, and today they did 5 miles. It wasn't fast, as we had run harder yesterday. Still, under the conditions it wasn't easy or fun. I was drenched when I got back to the car. My schedule dictated I do a quick turnaround after all the girls were gone and get right on the bike for a 44-mile ride. It wasn't going to be easy either.

I got off before 9, which meant I had no real time to re-hydrate. I did take 2 Enduralytes, which probably saved me in the end. I had to have 30 miles, but 44 would mean a shorter, easier ride tomorrow. Combined with Tuesday that would give me the 100 miles I needed heading into Saturday.

The first thing I noticed was my mind would not focus. I was mentally drifting around, and suddenly I became aware I was still on Washington Ave. It seemed as if I'd been there forever! It's probably because I'd just run there, perhaps. At any rate I knew things were going to be hard.

Here's the funny thing about all that - my legs didn't hurt, my breathing was easy, even my heart rate was comfortable. My mind just wasn't in it. I used that to keep me going, the fact that the mind has to be overcome sometimes. I would get to Highway 60 and assess; maybe I could find some motivation to go on by then.

I drifted from thought to thought until it hit me I'd made a new Strava section out of the Amish Super 2. Though I would have a headwind pretty much all the way down, it was one of the rare times I was on it alone. Might as well up the pace on the record a bit. That thought got me to Orange County and beyond, and soon I was sitting at Huck's.

I was a little nauseous from dehydration by the time I got there. I would have to be careful going home if I didn't want a meltdown. Who could I count on to get me? Allen was out of state, so was Galloway, and everyone else was indisposed.

Lucky for me the tailwind home really helped a lot. By halfway back I began to notice my heart rate rising on the climbs all too quickly, a clear indication the bottom was beginning to fall out. Finally, once atop the cut, my left hip flexor began to cramp in quick spasms. Yup, time to bring it in.

I laid around trying to re-hydrate the rest of the afternoon. Later, I lifted and mowed grass, which also necessitated the second shower of the day - sweaty!

Hoping for better tomorrow. 

The Three Amigos

Can you believe it? Never in the history of ridedom have so few riders shown for a pace line night (except possibly in cases of severe weather). Only John T., Jimmy, and myself appeared at the appointed time and place, but being the fearless vagabonds we are, we set out promptly on time.

The wind was supposedly WSW at 16, but the more we rode, the more it seemed to be more directly south. This was good; it would mean a fast return trip. It wasn't a hard wind, more a nuisance - it was hard to hear one another talk. Probably a blessing for the other two guys!

Even though I've only missed a week riding at home, my routine is all screwed up. I left my water, gel, flat kit... I was completely unprepared for the ride. Fortunately my two friends filled in the gaps, and I was not forced to return to my vehicle. It wasn't too hot anyway, and so as long as we took it easy going out, fluids really wouldn't be a problem.

We turned, and the terms were set - no one was to be dropped. Pull as long or short as you want, whatever speed you want, just don't drop anyone. Jimmy went first, followed by John T., then me.

Jimmy pulled about 2-2.5 minutes on the first ride. The wind helped some, though not as much as we would have liked. At least it didn't get in the way. What did get in the way early on was an Amish hay wagon. It was sitting on 3/4's of the road, not doing anything. Jimmy was a bit indecisive about how to get around it, and our speed slowed as a result. This would be significant to later events. Except for the hay wagon episode, Jimmy kept the speed above 25 the whole way.

John T. took over, pulling about the same amount of time. He too kept the pace above 25, took us through Bromer, and shortly before the first hill tapped off.

He got on the back quickly enough for me to bring the speed above 25 again, even lurching beyond. I was getting a run at the first hill. I always try to hold above 20 on the first one, which usually isn't difficult to do. I didn't want to blast it though... I didn't want the group to break up. We went over at 23, and obviously the wind was helping out.

I began to turn over my options in my mind as we stair-stepped downward at speeds over 27 mph. I was clearly getting an easy pull. I would keep it longer - but how much longer? At first I toyed with passing it off at the top of Lost River drop. Nah. That's still too easy a pull. Midway through the bottoms? Nah, still too easy. I settled on tapping after climbing Lost River. That would give me 2 of the 3 hills, which was fine by me.

All this time our speed had been inching up. After the drop, we scooted across the lower floor at over 30 mph for the most part, slowing only as we headed south into the bridge area (and only because Jimmy yelled at me from behind - I came off the pedals to ask).

Things had been going very well. I really wasn't pushing at all and felt very fresh. Could we top Lost River at over 20? Time to find out! We all cranked, and yes, we made it over! Once atop, I laid over the frame, took it back over 25, then tapped.

Jimmy's second pull wasn't as long or hard because he lost the wind benefit. It wasn't terrible, it just wasn't any help. We finally dropped under 25, and Jimmy tapped a bit before 2 minutes.

John took over for the final hill. I really hoped he'd go for it. Our first 2 hills were over 20 - would he take this one that fast as well? He did, and we were able to accomplish the trifecta. He completed his turn on the front by carrying us to the break line.

My strategy now for winning the sprint was clear. I had to hit John T. now, while he still felt a burn. Letting him control pace from the front while his legs recovered was a fool's errand, because I couldn't hope to beat him in a sprint if he did. I hit him right away and hoped to have superior strength.

Though I hit 32 mph, I knew it wasn't enough to break clean of either of the other guys. I was undoubtedly towing them along. What I hoped to be doing was hurting them enough they couldn't break me as they tried to go around. It appeared I might actually pull it off, when I felt something brush my right quad.

Jimmy was moving up on my right side even as I could hear something on my left. I was boxed in at top speed, not a good place to be. If anyone flinched, we were all hitting the deck. I didn't flinch but I did shout some words. I won't repeat them exactly, but if I had a lisp it would have sounded like, 'THIT! THIT! THIT!"

I hit the brake, Jimmy hit his, John T. brushed by on the left to his win. Fair is fair - he's faster anyway, and probably would have caught me. I was just glad to be alive and upright.

We took the lazy ride back in, chirping about what a great ride it'd been, what glorious weather, then Jimmy tried to kill me again. He called a right turn, I was on the left side (as was John T.), and midway through the turn he changed his mind and pulled back to the left. I was almost perpendicular to John T., and it looked as though we were going down. Then I lisped again, this time louder. We got out of that one too, somehow.

I gave Jimmy lots of room after that. ;)

Wendy's was great, and the service was fast. We talked over the numbers - I had a preliminary time of 23:15 on my running watch. Jimmy's Strava gave him 23:14, good for 2nd place on the list (bumping me down). My official (though private) Strava was 23:09. That comes in a smidge under 26 mph, making this a very good ride.

Back, if a little tired

It was a bit of an ordeal getting here, but we are here. Let me back up a bit...

The last three days of San Francisco were pretty uneventful. As I left it last, I still had a bike to go. I had two more runs to do. Other than that, it was site seeing with the family. So, let me break it down.

The Ride
Friday was my last chance to ride. I decided to extend my bike rental at least one more day (from Thursday), but when I called to set it up the nice Russian bike mechanic told me in semi-broken English the bike was reserved already. So I headed in to return it. Once there, he told me he did have another bike, this time a carbon-framed one, and asked if I would be interested. It was $5 more, but why not? I had to explore that road. This would be it though... he made it clear the bike was already reserved over the weekend. Whatever I had left to do, I'd have to do it now.

I wanted to go back to the Headlands. That road, the one I'd been afraid to take the day before, beckoned, taunting me actually, and could not let it go unchallenged. I quickly made my way to the bridge and across, through construction and up into the hills.

The first climb is a long one. It starts the moment you decide to leave the main road and doesn't stop for over two miles. It breaks in places, and only initially did it feel steeper than what we would ordinarily see (think Mt. Guthrie, but longer). The main thing was the hills were much longer in length. Riders dotted the road above me, and I resolved to one-by-one pick them off. Yea, I was proud of the fact I was climbing better than the natives - if indeed they all were. In time I spotted a yellow jacket about a quarter mile ahead, and figured I might just catch that one before I made the crest.

I caught him earlier than I thought. He was tall and slim, not skinny, rather lean and sinewy. He had silvering hair that flowed out from under his helmet. He wasn't breathing hard, pedaling though he was at a high cadence on his mountain bike. Mounted on his handlebars were two notable items: an Edge 500 and a Hero Cam. This was going to get interesting.

It didn't take long to strike a conversation. I had in mind to pass and forget him, but as I told him good job and began to move by, he picked up his pace, and soon we were discussing our professions, our love of riding, and the road ahead. He asked me if I was going over the top. To reaffirm the course, I asked if it came back out at the roundabout, which he assured me it did. We paused at the edge of the looming precipice, not from fear, rather to allow the truck ahead of us time to descend. You see, the road had many switchbacks, the air was foggy and misty, and his plan was to record his overly fast journey down that steep drop.

I assured him I had no such designs; I didn't know the road, it was foggy, and oh yeah, I was on a rented bike. Steve - that's right, that was his name - said he'd wait for me at the bottom. Then he pushed off. It was reminiscent of a downhill skier going over the lip of some mountainside.

I followed directly, and became immediately aware of how steep the drop was. The sign on the road said 18% - and I believe it! That wasn't the grade I was worried most about however... though I couldn't see it through the misty fog, I was quite aware of where I was, and that just over the rail the grade went up to 100% for 600 feet or so. One little mistake and my shrill girl battle cry would have drowned out the unending dirge of the San Francisco fog horn.

Down and downer, back and forth, the road did its best to shake me off its back. I clung tenaciously, torn between my heart's desire for thrills and my head's desire to see my family again. I could feel my weight shifting forward as I applied brakes, wondering if there was enough power in those small calipers to alter the fate the hillside wished upon me. Ere long I saw Steve again, coming to a halt slightly ahead of me. It turned out I hadn't done too poorly, at least in relation to Steve. There was a bit of satisfaction there.

We rode through the ensuing valley, winding through mottled vegetation and brownish/olive views. The area had a slightly arid feel to it, not such that rain was a complete stranger, rather an infrequent visitor. Soon the path rose again as it must, and we began to climb back to the roundabout mentioned earlier. Once there, we had a nearly two-mile drop to the main road, not as steep as the earlier descent, but with cliffs just as steep on the other side of the rail. As we dropped below the fog line I could see I was having no trouble staying with Steve - in fact, I was having to brake to stay off his wheel. We finished the Headlands, moved over the bridge where we parted ways for good.

The Runs
Saturday is the end of my training week, and as I hadn't run since Wednesday, I was forced to do a longer run again. My week's total stood at 28; I like to get 35. Five miles wouldn't do. I needed seven. It seemed to me I could just run from the condo to the base of the bridge (Crissy Field) and back and I'd have it. Simple enough, except I'm me.

Trivia: San Francisco is the 2nd most densely populated city in the country. It has over 17,000 people per square mile in a city of over 3,000,000 and a metropolitan area of over 8,000,000. The city is proud of its healthy appeal, and provides for exercise in its myriad forms. Running and biking paths are everywhere, and runners and bikers are everywhere too.

Which makes San Francisco in IronBill's eyes to be the world's largest continuous road race.

Every runner in front of me had to be passed. Groups were even better. I didn't discriminate. Old, young, male and female, they had to be passed. Walking a dog? Tough! Get outta the way. And so, as I leapfrogged from imagined victory to imagined victory, time and distance melted away. I returned with 9 miles and many scalps that day.

Sunday, the last morning, I needed a 5-miler. Of course I let my competitive side get the better of me again, and of course I passed people, and yes, I went farther than I planned. This time I stopped at 5, period. It would be the last time I laid eyes on this area, and I thought a slow walk for a mile might be just the ticket. That too sounds like a great idea until you realize the wind was blowing 30 mph and it was a cloudy 60 degrees. Not exactly strolling weather in wet clothes!

All that done, I showered, finished packing, and loaded the family up. And with that, San Francisco disappeared in the rear-view mirror.

The flight out of SFO went just fine. I figured that would. What worried me was the line of storms developing in Iowa and Illinois. I had nightmarish flashbacks of JFK when Leisa and I returned from Europe, being delayed by weather for over 5 hours.

In Denver we were delayed, but not by weather. The plane had to be changed for some undetermined reason. After we boarded, attendants began pointing at the tail. Half an hour passed as one person after another came to look at the tail. Apparently a bird struck the plane earlier, but it was deemed airworthy, so a full hour late, we took off.

Landing in Indy a full hour behind, I lamented the ever shortening night of sleep I would have. Practice would be bright and early, and I was going to be there no matter what. So, once home, I quickly unpacked my bags and hopped in bed. All too soon the alarm rang, and the day began anew.

Two runs and 10 miles later (along with a lift) the day is over. Finally.

Pace line tomorrow!

A few days in

Today is Friday. We arrived in San Francisco late on Tuesday, and it's been pretty active ever since.

First, let me comment on parking, or rather, the complete lack of it. None! It took forever to find a place to park the car so we could meet our condo lady. Right then and there I vowed I would never live in this city. Sure, our condo had a garage, but so what? You could never drive it anywhere. You'd be circling city blocks waiting for a place to open, where you could pay top dollar to leave it for a maximum of two hours, or you could park it in a garage (IF there was space available) and pay a minimum of $15 a day. No. Thanks.

Our condo is nice. Not big, not small, and it's within easy reach of the harbor. Chinatown is just south of us, as is Little Italy. We have two bedrooms, but only one TV, and it's in the living room. Not surprisingly one of our girls has opted to take the couch every evening.

We walked down to Firsherman's Wharf the first afternoon, walked around a bit, looked in some shops, then ate at Bubba Gump's. The weather was very cool, and though we all had jackets, things were on the verge of uncomfortable the whole time.

The next day I set out for the bridge. I wasn't sure how far away it was, or even specifically how to get to it. I just knew that as long as I could see it, I would get to it. My path wound through Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39, past Ghiradelli, past Fort Mason, and down to Crissy Park. Once there, I found a foot trail up some steps (Spring Mill Inn!), and the next thing I knew I was on the bridge!

The walkway is split in half: the right side is dedicated to foot traffic, the left to bicycles. Generally the locals adhere to this policy, but the tourists generally don't, especially the old folks and the Chinese. The old folks, I get. The Chinese? Nope.

It wasn't a tough run. In fact, of all the bridges I've run, this one has the gentlelest of all slopes. I was carrying my phone, and occasionally I stopped to take photos. Midway across the bridge I stopped and looked down. I could see baby dolphins below me.

I knew when I took off this would be a longer run. I finally hit the other side right about 6.5 miles from the start. This was turning into the longest run of the summer thus far, but hey, it was cool and I wasn't sweating much at all. The only question was the hips and calves.

There wasn't much of a problem until the end when I could tell it was time to stop running. It wasn't like I couldn't run further - that would have been okay - but I also had a day full of walking ahead of me. That could be a problem. No matter - I finished in around 13 miles and cleaned up for the day as if nothing was amiss.

We ran around the rest of the day. My right calf, high and tight, kept whispering to me. "You better not run tomorrow, you better not run tomorrow..." I heard it. It didn't matter, as I already had 23 miles for the week and plenty of days to go.

Leisa had been after me to rent a bike, so as we walked around I started to talk with the proprietors of the many bike shops. "$70 a day! $40 for every day after!" was the common refrain. I didn't really want to spend that kind of money, especially since I didn't have any riding shorts with me. It wasn't as if I was afraid of buying a pair of shorts since I could use those forever (and really I need some anyway). There was also the helmet issue - head lice anyone? The whole idea icked me out considerably. I asked one fellow if California law forced me to wear one. "No." Okay.

I finally settled on a Cannondale in this faraway grocery-converted-to-the-largest-outdoor-store-I've-ever-seen. Their rates were $40 a day with every succeeding day $20. That was palatable. They even talked me into a helmet! It was a CAD 10 with Shimano 105, street pedals, and adjustable seat post. Entry level stuff, but it would do.

The next day I set out again for the bridge, this time with the plan of not only crossing, but heading up into the hills beyond. I could see the road twisting upwards into the mist while on the run; now I wondered where the road went. I made it to the bridge, crossed, and came to some construction. There was a young man and a young woman on bikes waiting for clearance to head to Salsolito. That was to the right; I wanted to go left. They just about had me talked out of it when an older lady rolled up on a hybrid. "I want to go to the highlands!" she said to the construction worker. "So do I!", said I, and she told me to follow her. She got me to the turn and told me to go on, because I would overtake her anyway. So I did.

The climb was long and steep. Who cares? We have plenty of hills just as steep, just not as long. Patience! I cranked on up, up, up, until I came to a roundabout. I decided to keep climbing, so I took the left path. Up, up, up some more, and soon I was at the top.

The view might have been breathtaking if not for the fog. It was constant. I could see the bottom of the bridge far below me, but that was about it. I was probably up 1500 feet or so above, maybe more, and about 10 miles into the ride. I now had a choice. There was a road extending down, one-way, 18% grade, and I had no idea where it went. If I went down there I wouldn't be allowed to double back. With no clear way to get home I had no real choice but to reverse direction then. I suppose there was one additional reason - though I had a tire kit, I had no way to put air in a repaired tire. A flat would be death, because I would have no way to tell Leisa where to go to get me. The wise move was to go back.

On the way back down I stopped to take pictures. Along the way I met the old lady again. We talked for a while. She told me where that road led, and I now know I can take it and get home. We talked further about life in San Francisco, swimming in the bay, and other such stuff. I bid her adieu, and off I went.

There was till one thing left on my docket - a swim in the bay. I packed my bag with only the most necessary stuff - a towel and goggles - and headed down to the cove. Homeless people were all over, and the fact was I wasn't sure that bag would be there when I exited the water. It was about a 2-mile walk back to the condo, and the thought of having to do that dripping wet, barefoot and clad only in running shorts didn't appeal, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

I saw two young women with bikes sitting near some steps. I asked them how likely it was my stuff would be there when I got out, and they offered to watch it. I stripped, waded out, and started swimming. That is, I tried. I couldn't breathe. Literally, for the first time in my swimming career, I couldn't breathe with my face in the water. My diaphragm constricted every time I put my face down, and I couldn't force myself to breathe. I tried over and again, and I couldn't make it work for any distance. And, since I couldn't generate any heat, my arms and hands were quickly numbing. There was no guard on duty, and drowning was actually becoming a real possibility. It was time to get out.

The whole event lasted less than 10 minutes. It didn't matter. I had been in the bay. 55 degrees without a wetsuit I now know isn't possible for me, not for distance. If I really cared I suppose I could rent one, but there's the catch - I don't care.

I'm getting ready to go out for a second ride now. It should be warm enough for a successful venture. I think I'm going up to the hills again, to explore that road not traveled...

Great Starts

First - I had 11 high school girls show up for practice today. Add to that one middle schooler and a fifth grader, AND one more girl who will almost certainly run, and we are off to a great start. The girls looked fit, healthy, and eager to get out and train. We had 4 girls go 5 miles and the rest went 3, and all of them are running faster than last year. Yup, I'm happy with that.

I was also happy to have the assistance of Jo Scott. Jo is a very experienced coach and a great addition to the dynamic. I hope she is a regular, because it presents us with a great many options. I'm hoping to see a few other ladies join us. Every adult is a bonus.

After the practice I hit the gym. I can't do a great deal right now because of my shoulder (which is slowly improving), but I can do the critical stuff necessary to help my swim. And it has. I didn't swim much at all over the winter, yet both my triathlon swims this year have been minutes faster than in the past. The only thing I can attribute it to is lifting.

Free snack! No need for Huck's!

After lunch, I got on the bike. I needed 50 miles today to make a minimum 100 miles for this vacation week. Allen wanted to do Lighthouse, which as we know is 31.9. Therefore, I needed to add nearly 20 miles. So I rode early, passed Lighthouse, and hit 60, reversed, then returned to Lighthouse. I hit it perfectly, because just as I got there Allen was pulling out of the lot (I suspected he might if he got ready early) and was going to head north to look for me. Obviously I was coming from the south, and he would never have considered looking that way.

We rode to Huck's, had a snack, then returned. On the way my front axle began to squall again. It was loud and obviously a problem. There wasn't much to do about it but ride. It stopped, but after a while every time I hit a bump it started again. I began to worry I might not make it home. After dropping Allen off at Lighthouse, I headed north. Now every time I took it over 22 mph, the squalling began. Then it was 20 mph. Then it was 18. The axle was clearly breaking down, and quickly.

I did get home, and immediately pulled the wheel off. I don't want to forget about it and climb on the bike again. I will (hopefully) be able to put in new bearings, but the wheels came with the bike way back in 2005. It may simply be the end of the line for them.

There was just enough time to get ready for the Jimmy 5 run, and I got there as his Royal Jimmyness was putting his stuff in his car. The run was easy, much more so than I could have expected. Altogether I wound up with over 5 hours of training. That's a big day after yesterday.

Right now I'm finishing laundry so I can pack. Tomorrow is San Francisco. 

Dreams and Disasters

Terre Haute had been an unexpectedly good race for me. My riding especially has come on as of late, and since the cylinders seemed to be firing, I jumped into the Jeffersonville triathlon this weekend. The main goal was to score some USAT points towards an All-American status. I'd done well in a race on a similar course last year, so it seemed like a good plan.

There are dangers to this race. It isn't the course per se, rather the course marshaling - or lack thereof. Jake did his first race down here and was misdirected into a longer run. Last year I did a race and was misdirected on the run. I had that under control though... so I figured nothing could really go wrong this year.

Jimmy joined me bright and early, and with McDonald's breakfasts consumed we headed quickly to Jeffersonville. We made good time, found all exits open, and were soon parked only a few yards away from staging. So far, so good.

Check in, body marking, staging, all proceeded. I was a bit perturbed that Jimmy, despite registering only last night, had a better transition assignment than I did. Of course since it was Jimmy I couldn't be too surprised by that. By the way, they had two lanes and four rows of empty racks right next to the bike out. Yup, that's right. Can't fathom that logic.

We were to swim upriver 150 yards, then swim downriver 500 to the exit. About 30 swimmers started together, and honestly, I didn't find this part too much of a problem at all. I did run into Jimmy, my bad. Anyway, I managed to exit the water 3rd behind a high school swimmer and a 30-something. I didn't think this was bad at all.

There were 4 riders out of transition before me. I quickly overtook the first 2, a woman and a man, and saw the others way off in the distance. I figured they were out of reach, but I piled on the pedals anyway. I wasn't going as fast as I went last summer, but I didn't really expect I could. It's early yet. Still, when I looked up again I suddenly realized I was upon the first of the next 2, and would definitely catch the other. They were collapsing before my very eyes!

I caught the last of the riders before the 5th mile, absolutely blowing by him. At mile 5 I started straining the eyes forward to see any sign of other riders or a turnaround point. Neither were visible. By 6 miles I was certain I was in the lead. We turned left onto what I thought certain to be an impending turn barrel. Nothing. For a second, I sat up and turned around. Had I taken a wrong turn? Nope the other guy was way off, maybe a minute or so, but he was on the same road. I laid back down and buried it. I vaguely remembered the website said the ride course was changed, so I went with it.

It was lonely out there. A voice kept nagging me that I was on the wrong path, but people, the few there were, kept pointing me on. Arrows appeared on the road whenever doubt was about to overpower me. And no one was in sight behind me.

Please Lord, let me be on the right path!

By the time I was in my 10th mile, I felt something must be terribly wrong. I don't know the area all that well, but I was pretty sure I was no where near the staging area. Maybe the bike course was slightly longer because of the change? Keep going. At mile 12, the course pitched up into what I later found out to be a Category 4 climb. It was tough, and couldn't have come at a worse time. My head was full of hope and doubt at the same time. Nothing to do but push and hope. I crested the hill, made a turn, then I saw it:

<sign>20k

That could mean only one thing; I was at the halfway point of the 40k race. I'm ashamed to say that for a moment I lost it. To the neighbors, I'm sorry. My language left a lot to be desired.

After a minute or so of me trying to figure out what I'd do next, the support van rolls up. It's the same guy that should have met me at 6.5 miles. I beat him to both check points. I asked him where the sprint was supposed to be and all he could do is point me back the way I came. I could have yelled at him, but what was the point? After my very brief encounter with him I could already tell he had a head full of rocks.

So I headed back. It was too late to salvage the sprint - that was over. But I briefly considered getting back and running the 10k. That was no good - my swim was too short. No, there was nothing for it. I was out of luck no matter what I did. Might as well continue the workout.

Knowing the race was over definitely took some of the desire to push that hard out of me. I still kept a good pace, but it dropped. I had been running 24.3 mph to 12.5 (even including that big hill), which was fast enough to get me the sprint win BTW, but in the end my total fell to 22 high. Just a good workout, nothing more.

When I got back, I racked my bike and found the race director. I said I wouldn't make a big fuss, but I wanted a refund. He said, "Of course, e-mail me." Which I have. And I've gotten no response yet. I'll be surprised if I ever hear from him, either. Hope I'm wrong, but I have a feeling I'm not.

Oh, and in case you might be wondering if I just messed myself up; I didn't. A woman came up to me after the race - the same woman I passed early on in the bike. She was in 4th on the ride at the time, and she saw us go on. She was from the area and knew something was wrong. She turned back, and just then that guy in the van I mentioned above rolls up, screeches to a halt, jumps out and plants a turnaround sign. The woman told him three people got through, and he said, "They were Olympic distance". She told him that was impossible, because the wave started behind us and swam twice as far, but Einstein wouldn't listen. So an already bad situation was turned into a disaster by his ineptness.

It wasn't all bad. Jimmy took 5th overall. Andie took 4th in the women's race and 25th overall. She was also the first woman out of the water. Those two had fine races, even if they thought they hadn't. I had a good time for most of it (race frustrating aside). It's one of those things that happens.

The shame of it all is that I would have won. There is no doubt about it at all. If I had stayed on that course I would have likely kept my 24.5 average (or more), and that was more than enough to be the first biker. And with the lead I was building, there would have been no one to catch me on the run (winner ran 18:49). Additionally, a win would have given me huge USAT points, and combined with my 85 from Terre Haute, would have made All-American a near certainty.

There is one (very minor) silver lining to all of this. I posted this stuff to Strava and found that someone had made a segment out of the race course. I am now the undisputed leader of the East Riverside Drive Climb segment of the race course. It ain't much, but it's all I got from the race.

Jake contacted me after I got home, and we went out for another ride. I didn't feel too badly, though I am sure I probably slowed him down some. The day's total went to 51 miles, a good start on a short week. Allen wants a ride tomorrow, so with a little push I can make a decent week yet.