Go Higher

[ornoth_cycling]

Another summary of recent news to tell you about.

Cape Ann

Three weeks ago, there was the first beautiful, warm, sunny day in a long time, so I decided to take the train up to Salem and do my traditional 65-mile Cape Ann loop. It had a respectable amount of climbing, and I generally felt strong. (GPS log)

Having just ridden Cape Cod, which I really adore, I was also reminded how enchanting Cape Ann is as I rode past all the familiar postcard scenes: the rocky headland of the hidden village of Magnolia; Gloucester’s Hammond Castle and idyllic Buswell Pond; the huge rock and hidden crescent beach at Stage Fort Park; the old Gloucester Fisherman’s Memorial; the Rocky Neck artists’ colony; the elegant mansions and crashing surf at Bass Rocks; Good Harbor Beach, where my mother took her children; the touristy fishing village of Rockport; the granite quarry and slag pile at Halibut Point State Park; the tiny village of Annisquam and its wooden footbrodge over the Annisquam River; the hospital where I was born and the first house I lived in, both on Washington Street; the endless sand of Wingaersheek Beach; and Salem’s common and witch house.

The one odd bit happened at Wingaersheek. I brought my bike out onto the beach and leaned it against one of the huge rocks so I could keep an eye on it. After wading in the ocean and sunning on the rocks, I noticed that the tide was coming in. But Wingaersheek is a very flat beach, which means the tide comes in *fast*. In about 15 minutes, the water had advanced a good 30 feet, and submerged my bike up to the rear derailleur! Not a great way to treat your bike, especially when you’ve got to cross a sandy beach and ride another 30 miles with a very crunchy drivetrain!

But all in all it was just a great day on the bike.

… Which is in sharp contract to the next weekend. I had hoped to do a full century, which would put me in good shape for my upcoming Mt. Washington ride.

Harvard “Century”

I should have known better from the start. On the way out to Arlington I felt a bit slower than normal. After meeting up with my buddies Jay and Paul and Noah at Quad Cycles, I managed to flat on the bike path out to Bedford. Swapped the tube out, only to discover that my spare was just as bad. While I patched the original (thank god for self-adhesive patches), I managed to expose myself to a patch of poison ivy lining the path. Having completed repairs, I caught up with my buds, who had waited at the end of the bike path.

There’s a bike shop at the end of the path, and I’d planned on buying another tube there, so I wouldn’t be without a spare. However, my friends had invited another six riders—all fast guys—to ride with us, so I couldn’t very well hold them up longer than I already had. I figured that if I flatted, at least they’d be around.

So we set off, with me showing folks where to go. At least, that’s how it worked for a couple miles, until we got to the first turn in the route. I’d been setting a steady 18 mph pace on the front that wouldn’t fatigue us, since we had 85 miles ahead of us, but as soon as I rolled off the front, the next guy in line (one of my buddies) slammed it up to an unmaintainable 22 mph. Knowing none of us were going to finish a century at that pace, I just let them go, watching my promised spare tube go with them. Ironically, that friend who had picked up the pace and dropped me: he abandoned the ride within a couple miles and went home.

I figured we’d regroup again once the others noticed that I had dropped off, but that didn’t happen. I didn’t see them again until I pulled into the general store in Harvard, 25 miles later. I asked my two remaining buddies to loan me one of their spare tubes, and both refused, saying that they’d slow down and ride the rest of the way with me.

Can you predict what happened next? Yep, we started out again, and after a couple miles they kicked it back up and rode off without me, leaving me again out in the middle of nowhere, riding on a patched tube, without a spare. At least I knew the route, whereas those guys just kept going, leaving the route and continuing on with absolutely no idea where they were headed. At one point, two hours later, I was standing at a traffic light when two of the group rode past, perpendicular to my path. I called out to them and one of my buddies looked over toward me, but just kept riding along.

As the temperature hovered around 90, I started feeling nauseous and weak. It might have been that I uncharacteristically drank a Coke at the general store, or it might have been that I didn’t eat anything other than that and Gatorade. After another hour, I pulled into our customary post-ride coffee shop and just caught the rest of the group before they dispersed to go home. I was in a bad way, with 10 miles left between me and Boston. I limped along, trying not to vomit, being passed by little Asian girls on rickety utility bikes with grocery bags in their front baskets.

Unable to go further, I stopped and sat on the lawn at MIT, barely a mile from my house. After a long rest, I hobbled slowly home. I was just shy of completing a century, but I couldn’t possibly imagine riding another 5 miles, which was all I needed. I could have ridden around my neighborhood three times and been done, but it simply was out of the question. (GPS log)

It was probably the worst day I’ve had on the bike in a long, long time.

Hill Street Blues

Last week was July 4th, and on July 3rd (Tuesday) my employer let us out early. That gave me a chance to get back on the bike and get in my first round of hill repeats in preparation for next weekend’s Mt. Washington Century. So I found a route over to the Blue Hills and climbed the 400 foot Great Blue Hill access road. And did it again. And again. And again. The whole day I felt strong on the bike, and felt good enough to do my usual climb up Dorchester Heights, even after four Great Blue Hills (GBHs)! (GPS log)

What scares me is that next weekend’s ride contains three major climbs, each the equivalent of three or four GBHs, yielding a total of about 12 GBHs over a hundred miles. It’s billed as the most challenging century in New England; hence the focus this week on training with hill repeats.

Today I went out to Arlington Heights and did my usual pre-PMC hill: one trip up to the water tower from School Street, and five more via Spring Street and Eastern Avenue. (GPS log)

Hill repeats are great strength training, and they look great when you look at your GPS log’s elevation profile, but nothing’ll make you want to puke faster. As I told one friend, I was wheezing like a poorly-sealed steam engine, twitching like Max Headroom, and grunting like Monika Seles!

But hopefully all this agony will serve me well next weekend, when I attempt what might be the hardest ride I’ve ever done: I’ve got an appointment with the Kancamagus Highway, Bear Notch, Crawford Notch, and Pinkham Notch.

Stay tuned to hear how well *that* goes!