I’ve been in Austin for six months – although only cycling for four – so it’s time to share my initial impression of cycling in Austin. I’ll cover the bike shops, clubs, group rides, organized events, routes, road conditions, drivers, online community, and weather.

These are my limited observations, so they may not accurately reflect anyone else’s experience. Ready?

Downtown Austin from Town Lake boardwalk

Downtown Austin from Town Lake boardwalk

Mellow Johnny's Friday Truancy ride

Mellow Johnny's Friday Truancy ride

The Fire Ant Tour

The Fire Ant Tour

The Veloway

The Veloway

Bike night at the Circuit of the Americas

Bike night at the Circuit of the Americas

Looking back from the top of Ladera Norte

Looking back from the top of Ladera Norte

Bike Shops

Austin is still dealing with the fallout from everyone’s favorite independent bike shop being bought out by Trek in 2020, in an effort to force Specialized out. The friendly Austin Trek staff are trying their best, but they’re hampered by being brand-tied and the bad blood the company earned in that buyout. In a city preoccupied with losing “the old Austin”, it was a prime example.

Specialized is recovering, but slowly. They’re now based in a cramped showroom in an inconvenient mall north of town, but much of their operation is run from a sketchy, anonymous warehouse in South Austin, while presumably looking for more functional retail space.

Of course, you can’t talk about bike shops without mentioning Mellow Johnny’s, still owned and operated by Austin’s disgraced former pro cyclist. I found the shop unfriendly, but their support of the local cycling community robust.

There’s also a Rapha store, which – in addition to hawking their overpriced wares with a pretentious attitude – coordinate some popular group rides. And there’s also REI and several small neighborhood shops of unknown quality.

Clubs & Group Rides

There are lots of opportunities to ride, although surprisingly few of them are run by the local bike shops. Here are some highlights.

Mellow Johnny’s has a popular Friday Truancy ride of their own, but many of their rides are led by the Violet Crown Cycling Club, which I naturally refer to as the “Violent Crowd”. Due to time conflicts, I haven’t been able to ride with them yet.

The Phenom Cycling Club runs a couple challenging hilly group rides. That’s fine I guess if you want a hard workout, but they predominantly cater to young racers, and don’t spare much attention for laggards.

Long-distance riders are served by the Hill Country Randonneurs. However, they require membership in Randonneurs USA, whose policies I take exception to, so I really can’t ride with them.

There’s an exceptionally popular monthly Breakfast Club ride which again I haven’t made because of timing. I’ve heard mixed opinions about it.

There’s also an overnight Full Moon Ride every four weeks. I enjoy night rides, but it’s a pedestrian ride. Although they’re around, I’m really not interested in the casual populist rides like Critical Mass, Social Cycling Austin, and some of the Meetup groups.

Aside from many group rides happening at difficult times (i.e. early mornings and Saturdays), I haven’t found anything that suits my level: non-competitive but serious enthusiast. There’s lots of rides for young, fast, elitist racers; and plenty for slow, pot-smoking townies and commuters; but nothing for us devoted middle-of-the-road riders that I’ve found.

Organized Events

Here’s another area where I’m struggling to find my place. Perhaps it’s because of the Texas heat, but despite scouring the online ride calendars, I’ve found shockingly few organized events around Austin to suit my preferred ride distance of 100 to 200 KM.

One option is the infamous Hotter’n Hell 100 (August), although that’s a solid 5-hour drive away!

And there’s the Texas MS 150 (April), whose century route starts in Houston. I passed on it this year, having lost too much fitness over our move.

Austin is also home to the Livestrong Challenge, which several New England friends take part in, so hopefully there’ll be reunion opportunities when that rolls around in September.

And there are occasional smaller, less-familiar rides. Rather than enumerate them here, I’ll point you to my work-in-progress Austin Cycling Calendar webpage.

For my Pittsburgh friends, there’s a local semi-organized hill ride in the spirit of the Dirty Dozen. The Tour das Hugel takes place in November and incurs a whopping 175 KM with 3,200 M of climbing.

But so far I’ve only managed one 100 km ride, the Fire Ant Tour up in Gatesville, which I wrote about here. It was fine, but I’m still searching for my first century even as we enter the forbidding heat of summer in Texas.

Routes

There are a couple unique cycling facilities that are especially noteworthy. One is the Veloway, a winding 5 KM circuit that is limited to cyclists and skaters. It’s a delightful wooded loop on the south side of town. However, it’s a bit far to ride to, and I imagine it gets busy on the weekends.

And in the spring and fall, the Circuit of the Americas racetrack – which normally hosts Formula 1, NASCAR, and MotoGP races – regularly opens their 5 KM track to cyclists from 6PM to dark. It’s a memorable experience, but again it’s a bit far away to make it a regular event.

For racers, there are criteriums at the Driveway: a private track designed to instruct auto racers. Not being a racer, those are of limited interest to me, save perhaps as a spectator.

In terms of bike paths, there are a couple around town. The most noteworthy is the Southern Walnut Creek Trail, which is pretty long, quite rideable, and one viable way to get out of the city and into the outskirts.

Shoal Creek is partially an on-street bike lane, but there are off-street segments. While it looks like a straight route into downtown, part of it is shut down long-term, and it’s more suited to leisure rides than getting somewhere in good time.

And there’s an extensive network of jogging paths around Town Lake. While scenic and featuring an amazing investment in elevated boardwalks over the river, these gravel paths are crowded with oblivious tourists and locals, so they’re of limited value for road cyclists.

I’ve spent a lot of time exploring Austin’s roads, but I’ve still only just scratched the surface. As when I moved to Pittsburgh in 2015, I’ve had excellent luck identifying fellow roadies through Strava’s Flyby utility and then following some of the routes they frequent. That’s given me insights into popular local routes as well as further afield (such as over toward Manor, or out Spicewood Springs and the Volente loop).

And I’ve found several methods of getting from my base in the Northwest Hills across town or into downtown, including Balcones Drive to Scenic Drive or Pecos Street or Exposition; or Winstead to Atlanta; Jefferson or Bull Creek or Shoal Creek; 51st Street for heading east; and Mesa and Jollyville heading north.

As for hills, we’ve got hills. I’m on the border between the flatter terrain to the east and the hilly terrain of the Hill Country’s Balcones Escarpment to the west. In fact, I have to climb a short but vicious hill just to escape my little cul-de-sac. But I’ve explored some local hills that would be right at home in Pittsburgh, including the infamous Ladera Norte, which is now part of my regular workout. If you wanna climb, there’s no shortage of it; but (unlike Pittsburgh) there’s plenty of nice flat riding, as well.

Road Conditions & Drivers

My memories of Austin from before I moved were of narrow roads with no shoulder and high-speed traffic, and that’s proved out. But those are the urban roads and suburban highways that are popular for cars; there are other roads that are calmer and quieter, and in town there are a number of side-roads that are adequate for cyclists getting around town.

And there’s a fair amount of bike infrastructure, including my first experience with parking-protected bike lanes, which are about as appealing to me as licking an electrical outlet. God save us all from well-intentioned bike advocates!

Road surfaces vary a lot, but they’re generally rougher (and thus slower) than I’m used to up north. The rural roads bake in the sun and can develop dangerous cracks. I managed a quadruple snakebite puncture by hitting one of those on a descent! And down here they use the term “sealcoat” for their variant on the universally hated oil-and-chips road surface treatment, which Texas uses more than any other state.

Drivers… For the most part Austin drivers have been surprisingly conscientious, although there are hundreds of online tales of absolutely insane driving. Of course, there’s self-important drivers going too fast for the conditions everywhere, and streets that pit all road users against one another, but in 200 hours of outdoor riding over four months, I’ve only experienced one legit instance of harassment on the bike.

Connecting Online

Another surprise: I have yet to find any useful Austin cycling forums online. There’s the Reddit group /r/BikingATX, but it’s not especially active or useful. If there’s a forum that’s commonly used – say, hosted by one of the bike clubs or something – I haven’t found it. Honestly, Strava has been the most useful online resource for finding other riders, clubs, and routes.

The best events calendar I’ve found has been the state-wide WheelBrothers Texas Bike Rides page.

Weather

From February through May, the weather was absolutely stellar. Of course, we had temperatures below freezing for short periods (including a devastating ice storm), but most of our days were between 10 to 25° C. That was delightful.

Then the heat came. We’ve had four straight weeks with high temps around or above 37°C, which limits outdoor riding to either mornings or short daytime rides. Save for a couple major events, summer is the off-season for riding.

Which brings up the question of when and where to use the indoor trainer. Over the winter, I could get away with riding it in the unheated and un-insulted garage, so long as it wasn’t too cold outdoors; but I wonder whether it makes more sense to bring it inside. Over the summer, it’s too hot to ride in the garage, but I’m not convinced it’d be much better if I set it up inside. Still needs some figuring out, so we’ll see!

Conclusion

The bottom line is that I’m getting settled and finding my way around both the cycling community and the city, but with a lot more still to learn. I can’t quite say that Austin is a cycling utopia, but I think it’s quite workable.

Specific things that I still need to look at are:

  • Check out the group rides I’ve missed, including: Violet Crown, Taking Care of Business, Breakfast Club, Major Taylor, and Rapha
  • Find more organized 100 to 200 KM and imperial century rides
  • Find the subset of roadies around town that aren’t hardcore racers
  • Build up an inventory of routes and rest stops for longer solo rides outside of town

But for only having been on the roads for a few months, I’m pretty happy with Austin’s cycling scene. And delighted by the weather, even at its hottest!

I wouldn’t normally post a ride report for a mere 100k (62-mile) ride, but there are reasons why I’d like to share my experience of my first Fire Ant Tour.

Big sky fulla giant Ornoths!

Big sky fulla giant Ornoths!

Riding straight past the first rest stop

Riding straight past the first rest stop

Rolling into the second rest stop

Rolling into the second rest stop

... and limping over the finish line

... and limping over the finish line

To begin with, I haven’t found many (imperial) century-length rides around Austin, which means very little to talk about. I’m hoping to get one or two under my belt soon, but this is summer in Texas: not the smartest time to undertake my first century in a while. So I might not have any century-length ride reports to post until fall.

On top of that, my last outdoor ride of more than 80 KM (half a century) was back in October, so it’s already been eight months since I posted my last ride report. So the Fire Ant Tour was a test of my physical readiness for a long ride after such a long hiatus.

In the same spirit of testing things, this was a ride full of important firsts. It was a chance to try my first major event on the new bike: Pæthos. It was my first major event in Texas after our move down here in January. It was also my first ride out in the rural Texas countryside, well outside of the proverbial “Austin city limits”. And it was my first long ride facing the extreme heat of summer in Texas, coming just eleven days before the summer solstice.

I didn’t maximize my physical preparation. I was pretty casual about my fitness level in the weeks leading up to the event, and I didn’t bother tapering my riding just beforehand. I wasn’t feeling particularly strong, but I figured I was ready enough for a little 100k.

In short: this ride was going to be a big test of several factors, and I was very interested in learning from how it went.

So with Inna away visiting family back in Pittsburgh, I hopped in the car at 5:30am – after waking up at 2:30am due to a thunderstorm – and drove 90 minutes north toward Waco and rural Gatesville TX. Although there was still lightning when I left Austin, the sky had cleared by the time I checked in and got the bike ready for the 8am start. Over 325 riders set off in very pleasant 24° morning sunshine.

We rolled along, mostly north and east, often topping 40-50 km/h and averaging over 30 km/h, knocking off the first two of the route’s four small 50-meter hills. There were almost no cars on the roads, and the landscape surprisingly reminded me of the very open, flat-to-rolling farmland in Ohio. At this point, it was really delightful.

It was when we turned back west to complete our first, clockwise 20 KM loop that we learned how much of a tailwind we’d enjoyed on the outbound leg: about 18 km/h gusting to 26. Despite putting much more effort into overcoming the headwind, I was going slower, and that variation in power and speed would continue all day, depending on which direction we were going.

After a tedious westward slog, the route continued with a larger 55 KM loop, counter-clockwise, with the wind cutting my average speed to a painful 18 km/h on the westward portion. That loop ended with a 3 KM section of rough gravel that stung my hands, followed by the last of the climbs on the route.

After that challenging segment, I took some extra time at the last rest stop to douse myself with water and rest my legs. It was now the heat of the day, and the former cooling wind had become hot. I wish I could quantify that, but after a forecast high of 36°, on the ground readings ranged from 31° on one feed, to 35° from the National Weather Service’s intermittent rural monitor, to 40° recorded by my GPS. After having increased my sport drink intake, my stomach was bloated and queasy, my feet were hurting, and my power numbers were flagging.

The last segment was short and partially downhill, and I rolled across the finish shortly after 1pm, having taken 5 hours to cover 107 KM, with just 750 meters of climbing. I certainly didn’t finish strong, but picked up my finisher’s medal, doused myself with water, and packed up. I gratefully jumped in the air conditioned car and drove straight home, my stomach wanting no part of post-ride hot dogs, drinks, or ice cream.

Despite the discouraging finish, I really enjoyed the ride. The roads were quiet and reasonably well surfaced – except for that gravel section – and car traffic was minimal. The Texas landscape wasn’t dramatically different from what I’m used to, and less sere than I expected. The tailwind was awesome, the headwind was annoying, and overall the breeze did clear some of the heat off the road surfaces.

That heat wasn’t extreme by Texas standards, but I did gain a healthy respect for it. I’ll have to be more assertive about hydrating early, and accept the limits of my endurance when it gets really hot. Whether I want to push myself for summer century+ rides is still a bit of an open question, knowing that it’ll entail an extra, dangerous level of suffering.

The organizers did a good job, with frequent rest stops amply stocked with ice, and I’m always delighted to receive a finisher’s medal.

As for Pæthos, it did marvelously. I had no issues with mechanicals or fit or unwelcome squeaks and creaks. My only complaint was some pain in my hands, which was aggravated by the short gravel section. I’ll be keeping an eye on that in the future.

So for a first event, the Fire Ant Tour was fun and provided the desired learning experience. With a hot five-hour ride under my belt, I have a better idea what to expect if I choose to undertake my first century in this summer’s extreme Texas heat.

VC Sniper!

May. 10th, 2023 11:08 am

Just a quick note of recommendation for a vendor I’ve used for years. If you’re looking for an inexpensive way to personalize your ride, read on!

Pæthos

Back in 2009 I was in the same boat (nice boat!), looking for ways to snazz up my first true road bike, which at that point was entering its fourth season of service. Having seen the name decals that teams affix to the top tubes of professional bike racers, I looked into what was publicly available and placed an order with Victory Circle Graphix out of Golden, CO.

Since then, each time I get a new bike, I order a new set of custom stickers from VC Graphix: blue for the Plastic Bullet and my folding Bike Friday, red for R2-Di2, and most recently white for Pæthos. You can see the results in the accompanying phots (as always, click thru for teh bigness).

Even though it’s an inexpensive item, VC Graphix has been gracious and accommodating. I’ve always been happy with their product, which I’ve also used to personalize other items, such as my bike helmets, cell phones, and computers.

If you want to add a bit of extra personalization to your bike, I wouldn’t hesitate to direct you to their website: vcgraphix.com

R2-Di2 Plastic Bullet

A lot has happened over the past two months while I was gathering real-world experience for my blogpo about the Austin cycling scene… A lot that is worth sharing, but which isn’t strictly Austin-specific. So I figured I’d share a bit of that while I continue exploring the town and gathering data.

MJ Friday Truancy ride

But if you need a short summary of what Austin has been like so far, here’s the lowdown. The weather is stellar. The roads are, as you’d expect, hit-or-miss. There’s a good variety of flat and short, steep hills, and I’ve done a fair bit of exploring. The drivers have been surprisingly tolerant. Fauna has included actual roadrunners and actual vultures. The bike shops each have significant issues they’re trying to work through. There’s tons of clubs and club rides, but they’re heavily biased toward early mornings, rather than daytime or evenings. There’s not much of an online community, and I’ve found shockingly few centuries and major organized events. But I’ve met several riders, who have all been reasonably welcoming. Overall grade: B-minus.

In terms of other developments, the biggest thing of note is that since I bought my new bike on February 23rd, I’ve ridden nearly every single day, either outdoor or on the indoor trainer. For 63 days from December through February, I did virtually zero riding while moving to Austin and then replacing my old bike; but I compensated for that by riding 68 days in a row! After a catastrophic start, my fitness is back to a normal level for late spring.

The new bike has performed almost flawlessly, save for a quadruple-snakebite flat that prompted an unplanned and expensive Lyft ride home. And a slightly-bent rear derailleur hanger when the Texas wind tipped the bike over while I’d left it leaning against a tree. I’m really pleased with the new bike, and I’m looking forward to putting it through its first century. In the meantime, I do have to replace my old heart rate monitor.

Between the indoor trainer and riding outdoors, I’ve put 2,550 KM on the new bike. 1,176 of those came in March, which was more than I’d ridden in any single month (winter or summer) in the past two years! Between winter weather and Zwift’s annual Tour of Watopia, I spent more time on the indoor trainer than I would otherwise have chosen to do, but I’m totally focused on outdoor riding now.

Speaking of Zwift, I’ve had fun with a new Zwift feature: 16-second video captures of my avatar riding around their virtual world. That matched up nicely with the short video feature that Strava introduced last summer, so now both my indoor and outdoor ride summaries can include video highlights… Very cool! And I’ve been making my way through Zwift’s new XP levels, from Level 53 to 56.

That’s all the factual shit; but the overall gestalt is pretty happy. I’ve got a nice new bike, an interesting new town and environment to explore, and incomparable weather. Although age has significantly reduced my top-end power and speed, my fitness and endurance are back up to normal levels following that long two-month hiatus off the bike. I’m pretty happy right now, and it’s only early May, so there’s a long, hot summer still ahead of me to (hopefully) enjoy.

And you can look forward to my Austin cycling scene blogpo in the next month or so.

I’ve already written (here) about turning my beloved R2-Di2 over to the manufacturer’s warranty team after discovering the frame was cracked. What follows is how my bike warranty claim played out and the introduction of my new riding partner.

Assisted Replacement Program

Specialized looked at my old bike and said the crack looked like impact damage, not a defect; but they still offered me 35% assistance on buying a replacement. That was great news, since bikes over 5 years old (mine was 10) get at best a 20% discount; usually a bike would have to be less than 3 years old to get a 35% discount.

Happily, that discount could be applied to other models. Despite riding Roubaixs for the past 18 years, I’m not very enthused by the newer versions, which have abandoned the performance endurance category that I inhabit. My other options were the aggressive, race-oriented Tarmac or their new lightweight climbing bike, the Æthos, both of which have positive reputations as solid, sporty performers. I would be delighted with either of those.

2023 Pæthos

2023 Pæthos

The big challenge was availability, since the post-Covid bike supply chain is still completely shot. To make the most of my chances, I pared all my criteria down to my two most important factors: at my height, I have to have a large 61cm frame; and to match the equipment and quality level of my old bike, I wanted Shimano Ultegra Di2 electronic shifting.

At first, even this stumped my rep Jack, but a national search yielded a single hit: a 61cm Æthos Expert with Ultegra Di2 sitting in a BikeSource shop in Denver, Colorado.

It took time to coerce BikeSource to part with the bike and then box it up and ship it out, but I was willing to patiently wait it out. Since my last pre-move Zwift ride: my old bike had spent three weeks in a box while we moved from Pittsburgh to Austin; then two weeks at the Trek store before they discovered the chainstay was cracked; two more weeks for evaluation at Specialized’s warranty depot; and a final two weeks to have my new bike packed, shipped, and built up. In the end, I was without a bike for over two months.

However, on 2/23/23 I drove to the Specialized warehouse and test-rode the new beast, then took it home for my first real ride on the new bike!

On one hand, picking the bike up was incredibly sketchy. I had to go to a windowless, unmarked building in Austin’s warehouse district and wait in one of two specific parking spots. I wasn’t allowed to go inside, but after texting, a young man with a bike met me at my car. After he took the bike inside for a couple adjustments, I rode it around the block a couple times as an acceptance test. Then I packed the bike into the trunk and was asked to pay by entering my credit card info at an unfamiliar website that he texted to me. It was the kind of sketchy experience you’d see in a film noir.

On the other hand, the young man – Jack, Specialized’s warranty rep, whom I’d worked with from Day One – had consistently exceeded my expectations. He’d offered a replacement discount that was nearly twice as generous as Specialized’s policy required. He was extremely knowledgeable and flexible, and he quickly found a replacement bike that fulfilled all my requirements, despite the ongoing supply chain disaster in the bike industry. He made the process easy and ensured that I came away happy and still a delighted Specialized customer.

Goodbye R2

Of course, this was also the end of the line for my old bike…

R2-Di2

R2-Di2

That bike – my second Specialized Roubaix, which I named R2-Di2 – was supposed to come into my life on April 15th 2013. However, that afternoon was the Boston Marathon, and as I sat in my condo a block from the finish line, two homemade bombs were detonated, killing three people and injuring hundreds. Needless to say, that New Bike Day was delayed by 24 hours and overshadowed by more consequential events. Here are links to that 2013 bike purchase, plus my experience of the bombing, and its Wikipedia article.

In the 10 years since then, R2 carried me for a total of 67,500 km (or 42,000 miles), 45,000 km outdoor, and an additional 22,500 on the indoor trainer. That included five Pan-Mass Challenges: two in Massachusetts in 2013 and my three-day 2014 ride; then, after a five-year hiatus, an indoor Covid PMC in 2020, an outdoor “reimagined” ride in 2021, and a weather-induced mixture of indoor and out in 2022, all taking place in Pittsburgh. Together we ticked off no less than 59 outdoor century+ rides plus 8 more on the indoor trainer.

R2 carried me for more distance and more century+ rides than any other bike I’ve owned. Despite it being my primary bike for longer than any other, I still feel like I could have happily ridden it for another decade. Its ride quality was unsurpassed: a wonderful balance of stiffness and compliance, performance and comfort, that instilled both confidence and ease. From Day One to the end, it felt like the perfect bike for me.

And so our sudden parting had left me stunned and saddened. There was no final ride, no final photograph, nor even time for a lingering glance of appreciation for the best riding companion I’ve ever known. Just a small bag with some parts I’d wanted to salvage. I’ll miss you and mourn you and remember you always, R2.

Hello Pæthos!

But this new bike… Let’s start out with what am I going to name this beastie? After all, names are important to me, as evinced by my previous choices: the Plastic Bullet and R2-Di2.

Specialized named this model the Æthos, which reminded me of ancient Greek words like ‘ethos’ and ‘pathos’. Bringing up the latter’s definition, I found it means “suffering; evoking compassion, pity, or sympathy”. Of course, one’s relationship to suffering is the essential core of both cycling and Buddhism, so the word has particular appeal to me, having written a blogpost about the link between the three as far back as 2003, before I even started practicing meditation!

So in a nod to how suffering is an essential aspect of cycling – and Specialized’s idiosyncratic spelling – my new bike will be known as “Pæthos” (with the long ‘ā’ pronunciation).

Vive la Différence

Now let’s focus on the bike itself. I haven’t ridden anything but a Roubaix since 2005, and the Æthos is a different model serving a different purpose. That’s good for me, because the Roubaix has recently gone from a stiffness-to-weight focused sporty endurance bike into a plush cruiser, compete with a gimmicky shock-absorber mounted to its mamachari-style riser handlebar.

I clearly wanted something racier than the Roubaix’s current generation, and – to my delight – the Æthos provides exactly that. It’s not a back-shattering race bike like the Tarmac, but more of a lightweight hill-climber, with classic round tubes and tastefully understated branding and paint.

Another big way that the new bike will feel different is because bike tech and equipment have changed dramatically in the ten years since I bought my last bike. That is most evident at the back end of the bike. We’ve jumped from 10-speed cassettes to 12, and fitted a long-cage derailleur that can handle a (much easier) 11-34 cassette, when the biggest I could go before was 11-28. Though I’ll be running a (slightly harder) 52-36 on the front, rather than a 50-34, so it all balances out.

Gone are the familiar quick-release skewers keeping the wheels in place, replaced by thru-axles. And I’ve finally had to give up my easy-to-maintain rim brakes, which have been supplanted by heavier but “better” hydraulic disc brakes.

Those disc brakes enable another big change: from alloy wheels with machined aluminum braking surfaces on the rims to all-carbon Roval C38 wheels. And I’m also experiencing deeper rim profiles and tubeless-ready wheels for the first time. I suppose I’ll have to actually try running tubeless at some point, but I’ll save that for a bit further down the road.

So the Æthos incorporates a lot of changes in bike design that have come about over the past decade. Combine that with it being a more performance-oriented model than both the new and old Roubaix models, and I’m expecting it to be a significant upgrade.

First Impressions

As this goes to press, Pæthos has accrued 160 outdoor km (including a 75 km longest ride) and 300 indoor km (including a 100 km longest ride). So after nearly 500 km I think I can verify that the new bike should suit me really well. I haven’t done a century on it yet, but that will come, and I’ll be sure to share my impressions in the inevitable ride report.

Although things didn’t begin very auspiciously: I don’t know whether it was a loose install by Specialized or my own fat fingers while transporting it home, but my gears were stuck in the smaller/easier front chainring for the entirety of my 20 km first ride! Happily, the fix was simply firmly re-attaching the Di2 electronic shifting cable.

Other than that, everything has been absolutely wonderful. I’m comfortable in the saddle and the bike is more eager to climb even the steepest gradients than my legs are. If I had to give up my old bike, the Æthos is exactly what I would have chosen to replace it with.

My few niggles are all minor. Putting the bike onto – and taking it off of – the indoor trainer is a bit more work thanks to the thru-axles. The deeper wheels require a little more attention in high winds. Riding a new bike on unfamiliar roads, I’m really timid descending, but that’s on me and temporary. And I haven’t yet given it a full-power sprint test; again, I’m still un-learning the habit of not sprinting that I picked up due to my old bike’s worn and unreliable chainrings.

But those are overshadowed by the bike’s overall performance and comfort so far. It’s exactly what I wanted: something more sporty and serious than the Roubaix, incorporating current technologies, and able to eat up long miles and help me over the humps when the road tilts skyward. And that’s exactly the kind of bike I need. Pretty darned good, for an emergency replacement during a supply chain collapse!

I hope we have a very long road ahead of us!


15-second Pæthos reveal video!

Pæthos full frontal

Pæthos full frontal

Pæthos head tube badge

Pæthos head tube badge

Pæthos cockpit

Pæthos cockpit

Pæthos top tube branding

Pæthos top tube branding

Pæthos cockpit

Pæthos cockpit

Pæthos seat tube & stays

Pæthos seat tube & stays

Pæthos drivetrain

Pæthos drivetrain

Pæthos drivetrain

Pæthos drivetrain

Pæthos crankset

Pæthos crankset

Damn, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Since my last ride in Pittsburgh on December 21th, I’ve boxed my bike up for shipping; moved from Pittsburgh to Austin, Texas; brought it to a new bike shop for some long-overdue work; was told that the frame was cracked and that I should talk to the manufacturer about a replacement; and finally pulled out my long-forgotten folding bike in order to toodle around and begin exploring my new town.

Downtown Austin

Downtown Austin

Is this goodbye?

Is this goodbye?

Clown bike at the boat launch

Clown bike at the boat launch

Mountainclimb Drive, less than a klick from home

Mountainclimb Drive, less than a klick from home

So let’s get you caught up. But fair warning: I’m going to leave you on a cliffhanger for a week or two while the cracked frame / replacement story plays out.

Let’s think back to December 2022…

Disassembling and boxing up my beloved 2013 Specialized Roubaix for the first time went well, thanks to instructional videos on YouTube and Pittsburgh shop BikeTek, who gifted me a sturdy bike box that was plenty roomy for my oversized 61cm frame.

Things were good but not 100% happy three weeks later when I unboxed the bike in Austin. The only obvious damage – probably by me – was a torn electronic shifter cable.

I could have ordered a replacement and fixed that myself. But I also wasn’t sure I’d be able to correctly re-attach my rear derailleur. And everything I touched needed a deep cleaning and new grease. And the old girl hadn’t had a thorough tune-up since spring 2018. Plus I had struggled for years with my chain skipping due to worn chainrings… So I decided to bring it to Trek Research (on Friday the 13th, ominously) for a complete tear-down and rebuild. A snafu ordering parts added more time off the bike, although I was too busy unpacking and setting up our new home to have ridden much anyways.

Two weeks after I brought it in, the shop finally got around to looking at my bike, then called me to let me know that the bike frame had a crack in the drive-side chainstay, and was essentially unrideable. They suspended work and charged me for nothing except a couple parts I still wanted. But I wasn’t getting a working bike back. After over a month off the bike – and despite my excitement about riding in Austin – I was out of commission for the foreseeable future.

My options weren’t great. I wasn’t going to continue riding a cracked frame, knowing that it could shatter underneath me at any moment. I could’ve had a third-party repair the crack, although carbon repairs are sketchy. Or I could trash the lot and start looking for a whole new bike, which would be both time-consuming and expensive.

However, my first step was obvious: talk to the manufacturer (Specialized) to see what they could do for me. After all, they have both a lifetime warranty and a replacement assistance program. So on January 28th I dropped my baby off at the Specialized Austin showroom and waited for them to get back to me. I’ll pick that thread up again in my next blogpo, after the warranty claim has played itself out. But in the meantime…

That was just a couple days before a big ice storm hit, which I posted about separately, here. When we recovered from the storm, I hadn’t ridden for 45 days. I haven’t spent that long off the bike since my mother’s hospitalization and passing six years ago. I was beyond stir-crazy, and it was time to take a radical step.

On February 4th I went out to the garage and opened up the big blue plastic suitcase. It was time to do the unthinkable: pull my folding Bike Friday Pocket Rocket out and put it back together. I’m not sure when it was last used; it was definitely prior to 2011.

The next day I took my clown bike out for a short 14km shakedown ride around the neighborhood. Neither the brakes nor the shifting (nor my legs) worked very well, but it was a heart-warming 23°C in February and my first frickin’ bike ride in nearly two months! I followed that up with a 30km ride to downtown Austin and back. And after taking it in to have the shifting re-indexed, I’ve done additional rides as weather has permitted. It feels really strange having power meter pedals on a bike with 20-inch wheels! And we won’t talk about my fitness after two months off the bike!

And that’s kinda where things stand at the moment, but stay tuned…

My first Austin blogpost was supposed to include my impressions and experiences after a month or two of riding in Austin, but I think that needs to be deferred until I can do some real riding… and not just on my folding clown bike! And when my primary bike situation gets resolved, I’m sure that too will warrant its own, separate post. So I guess you can look forward to some interesting updates over the next month or two!

2022 began poorly. For the second year in a row, my winter training was interrupted by worrying chest pains, and also a lengthy scouting trip to Austin in April.

However, the majority of 2022 was pretty satisfying. Another year brought another incremental step toward normality following the Covid-19 pandemic. I got to enjoy many of the major events that Covid had interrupted, although I missed some opportunities due to weather and other considerations. As summer turned to fall, I was pretty pleased with how my season had gone.

Ornoth and the Allegheny River, with the downtown Pittsburgh skyline in the background.

Ornoth and the Allegheny River, with the downtown Pittsburgh skyline in the background.

The FTP test that set off my January chest pain and interrupted my training.

The FTP test that set off my January chest pain and interrupted my training.

The first Team Decaf group ride of 2022 at the Point State Park fountain.

The first Team Decaf group ride of 2022 at the Point State Park fountain.

Four friends' ride out to Sewickley, with Suraj, Ornoth, Ben, and Oscar.

Four friends' ride out to Sewickley, with Suraj, Ornoth, Ben, and Oscar.

Ornoth modeling the 2022 PMC Jersey with downtown Pittsburgh as a backdrop.

Ornoth modeling the 2022 PMC Jersey with downtown Pittsburgh as a backdrop.

But the year also ended abruptly. I spent some time off the bike in November, recovering from saddle sores and a tooth extraction, and that was followed by another two-week trip to Austin over Thanksgiving to secure housing. My early winter training was crowded out by the hectic insanity of packing up house in preparation for our move, which is currently in-process. Really… We said goodbye to all our belongings – including my bikes and indoor trainer – on Wednesday, and won’t see them again for a couple weeks!

2022 was a pleasant return to my “normal” summertime routine. However, it might be the last year I’ll enjoy the standard six-month summer cycling season I’ve always been accustomed to. I expect the seasonality of my riding might look somewhat different once I set my wheels down in Austin!

My Original 2022 Goals

As always, let’s begin with how well I achieved the goals I set out for myself when 2022 began…

Go 100% metric

My big New Years resolution was to go fully metric, and that was surprisingly easy. It was like learning a new language, but one with only a couple dozen words and prefixes, so it quickly became familiar to me, to the annoyance of my life partner.

Another 10,000 KM year

My January chest pains and our April travel immediately put me behind the pace I needed to ride 10,000 kilometers in 2022. And my late-year health issues, November travel, and packing meant this goal just couldn’t be met. But I still racked up a thoroughly enjoyable 8,000 KM.

While I’m on that topic, I should mention that 61% of that distance was outdoors, making 2002 the first year since 2019 that I’ve ridden more outside than I did indoors on Zwift!

More major events

This year I enjoyed several events that had been suspended or shortened in recent years due to Covid. In addition to 18 weekly Team Decaf group rides, I returned to the Absolutely Beautiful Country ride, the PMTCC 3-State Century, Pedal the Lakes, and Pittsburgh’s Every Neighborhood Ride. But travel, weather, and cancellations meant I still missed several annual favorites.

Video ride reports

I expected to put together a handful of ride videos this year, following last year’s purchase of a new GoPro action camera. Unfortunately, videos are a lot of work to assemble and put together, so I wound up doing just one 7-minute video for my “reimagined” 2022 Pan-Mass Challenge ride. Still, the GoPro was handy to carry around to capture still photos.

Although not full ride reports, I did capture and post a few brief video clips. Strava began allowing users to attach short videos to their activities, so I took advantage of that cool new feature several times.

Another remote PMC?

Although I attended 21 consecutive PMC group rides on Zwift over the winter, I delayed registering for my 17th Pan-Mass Challenge – my third riding remotely – due to my chest pains. At the last minute, the event I’d planned this year’s ride around changed its date, and then wet weather caused me to do a 130 KM indoor ride on Saturday, followed by a 170 KM outdoor century up to Butler and back. It wasn’t the ride I’d planned for, but it was still fun, and I raised another $4,500 for cancer research and treatment.

Zwift team time trial?

Although a TTT has been on my radar for several years, I’ve always been stymied by the chest pains that come when I push myself to my maximum. Needless to say, it was absolutely not happening this year. I might just have to let this one go.

Bike repairs?

My worn chainrings have become a huge issue, causing frequent chain drops when trying to sprint, but my options for fixing them remain very limited. All the bike shops I’ve gone to have told me the only thing I can do is scour Ebay for used, second-hand parts, which I’m reluctant to do.

I could, of course, replace my entire bike. I’d rather not do that because I really love my R2-Di2, and would rather keep riding it. But after our impending move, this might be something I can look into in the next year or so, once I know exactly what kind of riding I’ll be doing in our new location.

Charts

Every year I post and discuss my training and fitness as measured by my Chronic Training Load (CTL). That’s nice, but I update these charts after every ride, and I thought it might be cool to share that up-to-date data. So this year I added constantly-updated charts to a pinned/sticky post that will always appear at the top of my cycling blog. So now you can see how my year is going anytime you want, here.

But let’s talk about how my 2022 performance compares to previous years. Here’s the chart:

Cycling Fitness: 2011-2022

While it looks like a pretty good year, I never reached the same level of fitness I had in the previous three years. That’s because I started ramping up my training a lot later in the year, thanks to taking time off for chest pains and our trip to Texas. That was followed by a great summer, but I tailed off pretty quickly toward the end of the year due to health and relocation.

Now let’s zoom in on this year in more detail:

Cycling Fitness: 2022 Calendar Year (vs. average)

Here you can really see how much my fitness declined in January, and then again during that April trip to Austin. But after training back up in May and June, I enjoyed a productive summer, with six century-plus rides (the red dots). And note how my fitness plummeted due to health issues in October, travel in November, and packing and moving in December.

Still, six centuries is two more than I did last year. Let’s talk about those…

The Centuries

Rolling through flat, exposed Ohio farmland on the Akron Bike Club's ABC Century ride.

Rolling through flat, exposed Ohio farmland on the Akron Bike Club's ABC Century ride.

What passes for a Pittsburgh sunrise over Lake Wilhelm before setting out on the 2022 PtL ride.

What passes for a Pittsburgh sunrise over Lake Wilhelm before setting out on the 2022 PtL ride.

Ornoth & Phil at Tomlinson Run SP in West Virginia during the 3-State Century.

Ornoth & Phil at Tomlinson Run SP in West Virginia during the 3-State Century.

Ornoth & Phil receive their finishers' medals following the 3-State Century.

Ornoth & Phil receive their finishers' medals following the 3-State Century.

My new Garmin Rally XC200 power meter pedals!

My new Garmin Rally XC200 power meter pedals!

In addition to being two more than last year’s total, none of this year’s six centuries were simulated on the indoor trainer. I hadn’t done six or more outdoor centuries in one year since the good old days before Covid (2019)! And now I haven’t done an indoor “Zentury” in nearly two years (March 2021)!

Not that it was all great. The only reason why I didn’t do an early-season “Zentury” was because of my chest pain. Then I wanted to do the Pittsburgh Randonneurs 200k, but was away in Austin that weekend. I wasn’t trained up enough to do June’s two-day Escape to the Lake. I was rained out of doing my first Sunday in June. The Tour of Mercer County cancelled its century route due to insufficient registrants. The cursed Mon Valley Century cancelled yet again. And the Rough Diamond century on PMC weekend both changed its date on me, and then got rained out!

But neither you nor future-me want to read about rides I didn’t do, so let’s celebrate the long rides that did come off.

5/31: Bunola solo
This familiar route was an important test of both my cardiac health as well as my delayed training. I enjoyed the summery weather, but I really suffered from lack of form.

7/10: Absolutely Beautiful Country
Six weeks later, I drove to Ohio for one of my favorites – the ABC ride – which I last rode back in 2019. The weather was stellar, and my performance felt pretty normal. My only disappointment was that my power meter decided to conk out for the last 30 KM.

7/31: PMTCC 3 State Century
My friend Phil always seems to be my constant companion for this ride, and so it was in 2022. The day was temperate and a bit grey, providing (for once) unchallenging weather. It was a pleasant ride up until about 10 KM from the finish, when it started to drizzle. And then I pinch-flatted on a poorly-set railroad crossing on our finishing loop. But we made repairs and finished the ride.

8/7: Butler solo Reimagined Pan-Mass Challenge
I’d planned my “Reimagined” PMC as the Rough Diamond century on Saturday, but when they moved the date, I was left with no specific plan. When it rained on Saturday, I decided to do a shorter ride indoors, then made up the lost distance with a full outdoor century on a slightly-drier Sunday, using the familiar route up to Butler and back. It wasn’t the ride I’d hoped for, but it was successful enough.

9/3: Pedal the Lakes
Another ride I hadn’t done since 2019, the PtL route had been largely redesigned, broken into 50 and 110 KM loops. It wound up being an overcast, solitary ride, but pleasant, and I finished in exactly seven hours.

10/8: Every Neighborhood Ride
My final century was the always-challenging ENR, which I last rode back in 2018. I rode with the slower group and enjoyed a much less taxing ride. Between the pace, rest stops, and extending it to a full century, it was a 12-hour marathon. It seems appropriate that ENR was my last century before leaving Pittsburgh.

Noteworthy Purchases

This year’s most noteworthy addition has to be my Garmin Rally power meter pedals. I’ve wanted an SPD pedal-based power meter for many years, and I’m delighted with these.

A smaller but memorable change was when I got new brake pads, after suffering three straight flat tires when my worn, misaligned old pads wore through the sidewall of my tire! Gotta remember to keep an eye on that!

I also picked up the Fanttik Apex battery-powered tire inflator, mostly for our car’s steady leaks, but it also came with a Presta valve. However, its compressor is way too loud for indoor use, so I’ll probably only use it to top off before rides I’ve driven to, rather than packing my floor pump.

And I finally picked up something I’ve thought about for a long time: white brake hood covers! I’ll put these on next spring with some new white bar tape. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look quite as good as when I still had my bike’s stock white saddle, but maybe that can be switched up, too, depending on how long the R2-Di2 continues to be my primary vehicle.

Does a cardboard bike box and movers count as purchases? Perhaps not, but this is the first time I’ve ever had to box and ship a bike. Stay tuned to see whether that winds up being a success or a tragedy!

Additional Highlights

I’ve written enough about my chest pains interrupting my early-season training.

Aside from that, this year’s overarching theme has been enjoying my last season in Pittsburgh. But return visits are expected, due to intolerable Texas summers and Inna’s mother still living in Pittsburgh.

This year I was very consistent: I rode almost every single Tuesday, either the Team Decaf outdoor group rides or indoor PMC rides. I only missed a couple weeks, usually because I was in Austin at the time.

I was also pleased when a small riding crew spontaneously formed with locals Ben, Gary, Suraj, and Oscar. But it was also a year marred by friends having big crashes: Ben on a trip to Toronto, Suraj coming off multiple times, and a woman being seriously hurt on one of the Decaf rides.

Another big development was finally moving my blogs off Russian-owned Livejournal. As you know, my cycling blog now lives at https://ornoth-cycling.dreamwidth.org/ and also has a sticky post with my up-to-the-minute fitness charts.

In other social networking news, I started posting short videos of up to 30 seconds on Strava, and started using the ActivityFix plugin to automate some previously manual tasks when I post. And I started moving my fitness data over to the Elevate app rather than the browser plugin, which is being de-emphasized.

I did manage to assemble a video ride report for this year’s PMC ride. Although I haven’t used it yet, I also learned how to synchronize and overlay data from my bike computer on top of video, which could be fun and useful in some circumstances.

And there have been developments on the indoor training front, too. Zwift recently added roads in a new region called Urukazi, which is modeled after Japan’s Ryukyu Islands, and they’ve said that a small Scotland expansion will arrive in the next month or two. Another major update was their release of Levels 51 to 60, and I advanced to Level 53 on my last ride of the year. That also came with some new “fire socks” that leave a cool trail of fire during hard sprints. And I also unlocked the rider jersey from the “Long Riders” cycling anime series.

And then there was a final goodbye to the Plastic Bullet, my first road bike, which saw me through 30 centuries and seven PMCs.

Blogposts

Goals for 2023

Ornoth's 2022 cycling calendar/log.

Ornoth's 2022 cycling calendar/log.

My 2022 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 22 kilometers per day.

My 2022 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 22 kilometers per day.

That pretty much covers 2022. What does 2023 hold? Thanks to the move, I have almost no idea! But here’s a couple aspirational guesses:

Moving and Orienting in Austin

This will be a chaotic year, for sure. I’ll be trying to orient in a new city and region, trying to find riding friends, group rides, and some noteworthy major events. I’ll be dealing with Texas heat, belligerent redneck drivers, and SUV-centric roadway design. And I expect my usual seasonality to get all screwed up. After all, Texas presents the possibility of riding more through the winter, but will perhaps force me to ride less in the summer, reversing my usual annual riding pattern!

I certainly won’t be committing to any 10,000 KM distance goal this year, and might even find my time taken up by gainful employment for the first time in years. And then there’s also the possibility that I might go and buy myself a new steed, or at least repair the old one. The move is going to be the biggest change my 22-year cycling career has ever seen.

And for the Yinzers in the audience… Just getting out of our new house’s cul-de-sac is a short 15-20% climb, and there’s a certifiable Dirty Dozen-difficulty hill called Ladera Norte (“North Slope” in Spanish) just 4km from home . So I can’t throw those Pittsburgh climbing legs away just yet!

18th Pan-Mass Challenge and $125,000

Even my remote participation in this year’s PMC is in question. Will Texas provide a suitable outdoor course and tolerable weather – and will I be ready to fundraise and ride it – in August heat? I have absolutely no idea! But I’m on the threshold of $125,000 in lifetime fundraising for cancer research, which is a tempting milestone.

And perhaps a summer trip back to Boston might be in order sometime… although the traditional route’s $6,000+ fundraising minimum would be nearly impossible to meet.

Zwift Level 60

How much use will my indoor trainer get over an Austin winter? Or summer? I have absolutely no idea! But I do know that I’ll continue doing the weekly PMC virtual training rides and progressing toward Zwift’s new peak: Level 60.

Health and Turning 60

While I’m here expressing my hopes for 2023, how about just getting through the year without a cardiac scare or other health issues such as dental surgery, saddle sores, calf pain, whatever… While aging comes with inevitable limitations and loss of performance, it’d be nice to enjoy a healthy last summer before I turn the big six-oh. And maybe I should start giving some thought to how I want to spend this milestone birthday…

Conclusion

R2-Di2 at Mon Wharf with river tug hauling coal barges beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge.

R2-Di2 at Mon Wharf with river tug hauling coal barges beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge.

2022 saw the end of a seven year long chapter in Pittsburgh. I won’t try to summarize my time in Western PA; you need only read backwards through my blog to review those experiences. The cycling here has been superlative in both positive and less-positive ways, but in both cases it’s certainly been memorable, and I’m happy to have met some good people and gotten so much use of the topography of Western PA.

As the calendar transitions to a new year, I find myself making an immense, intimidating, and exciting change as Inna and I relocate to Austin. I hope you’ll stay tuned and continue to share this road with me!

Today I said another goodbye, dropping the Plastic Bullet off at Free Ride Pittsburgh, the local bicycle repurposing charity, in much the same way as when I donated my first bike, a Devinci hybrid, eight years ago.

The Plastic Bullet at the Provincetown finish line after a 3-day trek across Massachusetts in 2010 to celebrate my 10th Pan-Mass Challenge

The Plastic Bullet at the Provincetown finish line after a 3-day trek across Massachusetts in 2010 to celebrate my 10th Pan-Mass Challenge

The Plastic Bullet appears in a hundred regional newspapers in a thank-you ad from Dana-Farber following the 2011 Pan-Mass Challenge

The Plastic Bullet appears in a hundred regional newspapers in a thank-you ad from Dana-Farber following the 2011 Pan-Mass Challenge

Like that Devinci, the Plastic Bullet had been relegated to a backup bike, and then left to a lonely retirement, forgotten in a closet. And like the Devinci, an inter-state move is prompting its final fate. Hopefully it will find some new life beyond my custodianship.

And like the Devinci, the P.B. served me very well. It was my first road bike, a Specialized Roubaix Expert that arrived in October 2005. Being a carbon-fiber frame it was immediately nicknamed the Plastic Bullet, derived from the lyrics to the Shriekback song “Go Bang!”, which also provides this blogpo’s title.

It was my primary bike for the next seven years, seeing me through 30 century+ rides, including seven Pan-Mass Challenges, my first 200 KM brevet, and my 2010 three-day 10th anniversary PMC ride all the way across Massachusetts.

It also featured in my most treasured cycling photo ever: a shot of me leading a paceline in the 2011 Pan-Mass Challenge that was used in a quarter-page thank-you ad from the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute that appeared in over a hundred regional newspapers.

The Plastic Bullet was demoted to backup in early 2013, when I splurged on my current steed, nicknamed R2-Di2. It came out of storage whenever the R2 was in the shop, and was brought along when I moved to Pittsburgh seven years ago. But it has seen virtually no use since then, and retired with a final odometer reading of 36,711 KM (22,811 miles).

Before the Plastic Bullet, I had always been a bit of an outlier as a road-riding enthusiast riding a flat-bar hybrid bike. But the Plastic Bullet allowed me to fit into my niche and complete my transition into the roadie that I am today.

It’s hard to say goodbye to something that was such an important part of one’s life for so long, but it’s a good opportunity for me to practice with the laws of impermanence and non-attachment.

And it also opens a bit of space for someday welcoming a new resident in my stable of bicycles, which is a distinct possibility once I get a better idea what the riding is going to be like in Austin. After all, no cyclist should have to live with owning n-1 bikes!

You’d think a ride visiting every recognized neighborhood in the city would be fairly straightforward… but it’s not.

No, actually it’s one of the hardest rides I’ve done. First, there are no less than 90 neighborhoods, separated by Pittsburgh’s canonical three rivers. That means it’s going to be a long ride: about 120 km, in fact. Also remember that this is the hilliest city in America, so the route has to pack in over 2,000 meters of climbing (over 1¼ miles of vertical elevation, for the primitives in the audience). Combine the two, and you’re talking a minimum 8+ hours in the saddle. Plus it used to be held in the worst of August’s heat.

Although I debated whether I really wanted to, in the end there was no choice but to do this year’s Every Neighborhood Ride (ENR).

The handful of finishers at Arsenal Park

The handful of finishers at Arsenal Park

Riders gathering at Doughboy Square

Riders gathering at Doughboy Square

Riding along the Allegheny on Pittsburgh's North Side

Riding along the Allegheny on Pittsburgh's North Side

Why? First, it would be something entertaining to do while my partner Inna was out of town for a week. Second, the date got moved from the heat of summer to early October, which would make it a lot easier. Plus, although I loyally rode in 2016, 2017, and 2018, I missed the 2019 ride while up in Michigan doing LHT, and it wasn’t held in the Covid years of 2020 and 2021. And if missing the ride for three years wasn’t reason enough, riding a few miles farther would also allow me to complete my sixth century of 2022.

So Saturday I found myself on the road at 7:20am, pedaling the short 6 km down to Doughboy Square in a very chilly 5°C. I’d donned most of my cold-weather riding gear, including full-fingered gloves and my priceless thermal cycling jacket and bib tights.

About two dozen riders gathered there and chatted before perfunctory instructions and our roll-out. Within a block the group had split, with about ten riders speeding ahead in Jake’s fast group. I maintained the self-discipline to stick to my plan of staying with Jen’s slow group, having paid the price in previous years for over-exerting myself chasing Jake.

The first leg saw us cross the Allegheny to touch Pittsburgh’s North Side neighborhoods, then make a very quick trip across the Ohio and back to set foot in the West End. A dozen kilometers in, we faced our first long climb – East Street – where I got ahead of the group and waited at the top. After a screaming descent down Marshall Ave., we finished up the North Side and crossed the Ohio to hit McKees Rocks and the climb up to the first rest stop at Chartiers Playground.

It was 10am and we were 30 km in. The sky was heavy overcast, but the sun had broken through the clouds for a few seconds. It wasn’t warming up much, but my gear kept me warm everywhere except my face. My biggest concern was for my 5½ year old bike GPS, whose feeble battery could barely hold a charge in the cold. Fortunately, I’d brought along two portable chargers to see me through.

The second leg caught almost all the neighborhoods in the South Hills, which was the lumpiest portion of the route, causing the group to start rubber-banding a bit. That meant the pace was very gentle, with lots of brief rests while the slower riders caught up. People usually begin dropping off near the second rest stop, so a few riders said goodbye at that opportunity.

We reached that halfway stop in Allentown at 12:25pm with 60 km done. At 10°C, I felt it was warm enough to strip the arm warmers underneath my jacket, as well as my skull cap. At this point, the ride had been so relaxed that I began to entertain the idea of riding the extra 40km to finish my sixth imperial century of the year.

In the third leg, we finished off the South Hills by illegally crossing some active rail lines, taking the GAP bike path through Hays and down to Lincoln Place, then crossing the Monongahela River. But as soon as we did, one rider flatted, which provided an unplanned 20-minute delay. That was followed by the familiar but long climb up Hazelwood, the screaming descent down Forward, and the short gravel hike-a-bike through Frick Park along Nine Mile Run to our final rest stop, which had been relocated due to January’s Fern Hollow bridge collapse.

It was 2:40pm, and we’d covered 89 km. The clouds were starting to way, and the temps had reached a still-chill 12°C, and would only go down from here. We lost a couple more people, but gained the three that were left in Jake’s fast group. My bike GPS had finally exhausted my first portable charger after five full charge cycles, so I swapped to the second.

The final segment is always something of a cluster. It amounts to a hilly circle and a half of the inner city, and many exhausted riders simply peel off toward home whenever it’s convenient, rather than completing the full ride. And the few who remain require frequent regrouping and ad hoc rest stops. Along the way I finally took off and stowed my heavy gloves.

The chaos was compounded by construction and a route change occasioned by the absence of the Fern Hollow bridge, which was formerly part of the route. On top of that, my bike GPS wouldn’t navigate any farther, because it had exhausted its route storage of 200 waypoints; so instead of helping navigate, I was glued to the ride leaders for the rest of the ride.

Finally nine weary riders pulled into the finish at Arsenal Park at 5:16pm, having covered 123 km and climbed 1,788 meters in 9¼ hours. Post-ride chat was amicable but brief, as people looked homeward. With the clouds mostly gone and sunlight fading, I made my own farewells, hoping to squeeze out another flat 40 km to complete my imperial century. I was going to be cutting it close…

Actually no, I wasn’t. I still had 15 km to go when the sun set at 6:51pm, and I didn’t pull into our driveway until 7:35, after more than 12 hours of riding. But before then I covered the bike paths out to the Penitentiary, then the jail trail, Panther Hollow, and the always-frustrating final climb back up to Squirrel Hill, the latter in complete darkness with no headlight. But I was happy to complete my sixth century of the year.

Despite riding 100 miles and climbing over 2,000 meters, the casual pace had conserved my strength, and most of my aches weren’t from over-exertion but simply accumulated time in the saddle.

The Every Neighborhood Ride is one of Pittsburgh’s best and most unique cycling events. You’re usually in a small group of companions, all working to overcome this city’s profoundly ill-conceived topography. And it’s unique among group rides in that you’re with that same set of companions for seven, nine, maybe twelve hours, chatting, encouraging, and getting to know one another. That, plus congenial ride leaders, makes ENR one Pittsburgh ride that I’ll miss when I move on from here. It was nice to come back to it after three years away, and it was a nice and easy – if very long – day out.

Sunday September 3 was Mercer County Trailsannual Pedal the Lakes ride. It was my fifth century of 2022 – eclipsing last year’s total – and my 106th lifetime. So it’s time for a ride report…

I rode PtL in 2016, 2018, and 2019. Following a break during the pandemic, they changed the route and moved the start to Lake Wilhelm. Back in June, the organizers also ran a “Tour of Mercer County” that set out from the PtL’s former home at Riverside Park in Greenville; I had intended to ride that this year, but they decided to withdraw the 100-mile distance option at the last second.

Sunrise over Lake Wilhelm before setting out on the 2022 PtL ride

Sunrise over Lake Wilhelm before setting out on the 2022 PtL ride

Swoopy Lake Wilhelm bike trail

Swoopy Lake Wilhelm bike trail

Western Pennsylvania farmland

Western Pennsylvania farmland

Pymatuning Reservoir dam gatehouse

Pymatuning Reservoir dam gatehouse

However, the redesigned PtL did offer a century distance, although riders could only do that by completing their 50km short loop, returning to the start, and then completing a longer 110km loop.

For the most part, the new route didn’t use many roads from the old one, and the few duplicates were traversed in the opposite direction, which often completely changes the experience for someone traveling by bike. We would still hit the Pymatuning Reservoir and Conneaut Lake, but Lake Wilhelm replaced the Shenango Reservoir, and we’d forgo the leg into Ohio to touch Mosquito Creek Lake.

I got up and hopped in the car around 6:30am for the 75-minute drive north and learned that my partner had left me with an eighth of a tank of fuel. That required a side stop for gas in Grove City, undermining my plan to arrive at the start early.

I pulled into the Goddard State Park marina at 8am and checked into the ride. Out of a couple dozen century riders, I was one of only two who hadn’t already signed in and rolled out. The weather was mostly cloudy, but unlike my previous PtL rides, there was no autumn chill, and I was looking forward to a day spent exploring the picturesque western Pennsylvania countryside. I took a late “sunrise over Lake Wilhelm” selfie and set out at 8:30.

The shorter 50km loop began by crossing long-but-narrow Lake Wilhelm on a causeway, then following a bike path 10km southward along the eastern bank of the lake. I saw almost no riders, so it was very quiet, and a pleasant 19º despite being heavily wooded. The path featured occasional views of the lake, several small wooden bridges, and lots of swooping ups and downs that attested that it was definitely not a converted railroad line!

After emerging onto regular roads I pulled into the Stoneboro FD rest stop just after 9am with 16km done. I didn’t need fluid, and the selection of snacks was underwhelming, so I simply said hello, recorded my ride commentary, and rolled on.

The remainder of the 50km loop headed west and north – inland into farmland – before returning to the starting point. The scenic countryside was gently rolling, punctuated with a few small dips and climbs into and out of valleys cut by small streams. There were lots of quiet roads and false flats where one could fly along at 48-42 km/h, which effortlessly ate up the 36km segment in no time.

At 48km century riders had a choice of either saving 8km by immediately joining the outbound 110km route or returning to the marina to completing the full 50km route and beginning the full 110km route from the start. As a completist, I chose not to take the short cut, finishing the short loop at 10:30 in exactly two hours, having ridden 52km and accumulated 460m of climbing. I used the opportunity to hit the bathroom and stop by my car and pick up a frozen bottle of sport drink.

With my century ride now one-third done, I turned around and set out on the longer 110km loop. There was a lot of high haze in the sky, but occasional patches of blue, and the temp had climbed to a still-ideal 23°. 

A long 36km first segment of the big loop took me north and west across country. The air was a little warmer than before, the headwind was a little bit stronger, the farms were a little less scenic, the hills were a little bit bigger, and the legs were a little more used up. As I told my voice recorder, “It’s just becoming a little less of a pleasant touristy ride.”

At 12pm I pulled into the rest stop at the southern end of the immense Pymatuning Reservoir. Despite feeling that I was slowing due to fatigue, I’d covered 90km in 3½ hours, which is an excellent pace for me. Despite making good time, I still hadn’t seen many other riders, which again speaks to the head-start I’d given them by setting out late. Knowing I was already behind on solid food, I downed a chocolate chip cookie and stuffed another one in a jersey pocket, where it would leave a crumbled, melty mess.

The Pymatuning Reservoir is shaped like a boomerang, and the next leg went from the tip of the southern arm across country to the far north-eastern arm. I wistfully rode past the winery that was the lunch stop on the old PtL route and had featured catered pizza and donuts; the ride offered nothing so delicious this year. I stopped briefly to take some pictures at the causeway that crosses the reservoir, where tourists and seagulls flock to see thousands of carp that clog the spillway. It’s allegedly the second most popular tourist destination in all of Pennsylvania, trailing only the Liberty Bell. Then across country to the tony resort town of Conneaut Lake. As you might imagine, these areas were all a lot more built-up, with commensurate traffic volumes and speeds, making for a less pleasant ride.

I hit the Conneaut Lake rest stop at 1:40pm with 126km done and 1,000m of climbing, and met up with a family of four people riding just the longer loop (not the century). I rested for 10 minutes, chatting while munching two bite-sized cookies. The volunteer manning the stop confirmed that I was indeed the last of the century riders.

The penultimate segment was thankfully short, flat, and included a brief stretch on a wooded bike path. But the final rest stop was bizarre. It was a few hundred meters of gravel off the main road, at a seeds-and-biomass facility, where a cooler had been left outside on a card table, and devoid of any attendees save for one huge, geriatric golden retriever. Being well into “survival mode” already, I happily raided the cooler for any remaining ice.

It was 2:30, so I was exactly six hours in. And with 140km under my belt, there was just the final 20km back to the marina. When I wondered aloud whether the last two hills were going to be as bad as they looked on paper, a grimy old man suddenly popped up and said, “Oh yeah, they are!” That was enough to prompt me to saddle up and skedaddle back to the main road.

The next 10km was me crawling over those two evil hills and through a village called “Custards”, nursing all the aches and pains in my butt, the backs of my knees, my right calf, and right big toe.

Then, just when you thought the pain would be over, I realized that I was just about on track to complete my century within seven hours, which is something of an achievement. So the final 10km was me burying myself, in an all-out time-trialling effort, tapping whatever strength I had left to break seven hours.

The odometer tripped 100 miles on the return over the causeway across Lake Wilhelm, just a few hundred meters before the marina, where I stopped at 3:34pm. I’d completed the century (162km) in seven hours exactly, with 1,371m of climbing, and a 25.5 km/h average speed.

So that was the ride… Now for some final observations.

Back before the pandemic, Pedal the Lakes was always a nice, relaxed late summer / early autumn ride: a final long expedition of the year following the hectic insanity of July and August. It was really nice to get back to that.

The new route has pluses and minuses. There’s less busy roads, a lot fewer painful oil-and-chip surfaces, and the lakeside bike path was interesting. Having the century ride comprised of two loops was fine, with the shorter loop being more scenic, but the longer loop including more lakes. Even though much of the course is delightfully flat (-ish) I do think you need to be well-prepared for this one, with those two big 100m climbs in the final 20km.

I will say that I’m a little disappointed in the support, although that’s mostly due to far exceeding my expectations in previous years, when we were treated to brownies, donuts, fresh pizza for lunch, and chocolate milk at the finish. And there was no ice available, except for what residue I could scoop out of a couple drink coolers. Perhaps because of that, I suffered by not eating enough: the equivalent of about two cookies during a 3,100 kCal effort.

I remain divided about my own performance. On the down side, I felt like my stamina and my legs didn’t hold up quite as much as I would have liked, and I wound up trailing the other riders by some unknown margin. On the other hand, I finished feeling reasonably strong and set an objectively good time. Those two contradictory aspects just don’t add up well in my head.

All that aside, I really enjoyed the ride and would certainly do it again. It was a wonderful tour of the western Pennsylvania countryside, and a fun day out on the bike, albeit riding solo.

And, as usual, it’s a fitting end to cycling’s high season, and a segue into the more relaxed, less stressful rides of autumn. I’m looking forward to that!

This is just a placeholder to direct you to my 2022 Pan-Mass Challenge Ride Report, for the full details of this year's remote "Reimagined" PMC ride. As always, my lengthy writeup is supplemented with photos, videos, maps, and GPS logs.

This year, I also created the following 7m summary video. I hope you enjoy it!

Sunday was my third century of the year – the PMTCC 3-State Century – and for the first time in five tries, it wasn’t boiling hot. My previous editions were in 2016, 2017, 2019, and 2021.

I left the house at 5:45 to get to Neville Island for check-in and a planned 7am depart. It was a pleasant 17° and overcast, and I chatted with riding buddies Phil and Gary and Oscar as we waited for the group to roll out.

Ornoth & Phil at Tomlinson Run SP

Ornoth & Phil at Tomlinson Run SP

Phil, Ornoth, & Gary at the start

Phil, Ornoth, & Gary at the start

Phil on Longs Run Rd

Phil on Longs Run Rd

Ornoth & Phil receive their finishers' medals!

Ornoth & Phil receive their finishers' medals!

Immediately after crossing the Ohio River backchannel into Coraopolis, the shorter metric century riders split off from the few of us who were doing the full imperial century. Although the organizers said there were fourteen registered, our initial group numbered just seven – including Phil and I – and that was reduced by one when the sole woman in our group fell off the pace on the first climb.

The first leg was identical to last year’s route, featuring a stupidly hilly 22 KM loop up the ridge into Moon and back down a screaming descent back to Coraopolis before going downriver a bit and climbing right back up and over the ridge to the first rest stop.

We pulled in with 40 KM complete in 2¼ hours. I shed my arm warmers, hit the porta-potty, downed some chips, and the only sport drink they had on hand: Gatorade Zero. Why the hell would you offer a zero-calorie sport drink on a hundred mile bike ride?

After the rest stop came the first of two route changes for this year. Instead of staying on Route 151 / Bocktown Road, the route took Longs Run Road, a back road that paralleled it for about 6 KM. It was heavily wooded and scenic, with huge imposing cliffs looming over the road at one point, but much of it had degraded into loose gravel, so it was slow going on a road bike.

We returned to Bocktown Road briefly before turning onto busy Route 30 and passing the highest point on the route, which was followed by the second, larger change from last year. Last year we left Route 30 and cut across West Virginia to New Cumberland and then up the Ohio River; this year we didn’t quite go that far, instead riding down Gas Valley Road to Tomlinson Run State Park, then riding back up to Route 30.

The transition from Pennsylvania’s terrible roads into West Virginia was just as noticeable as last year, although the roads inside the state park were still pretty bad. We circumnavigated the pond that was the park’s central feature and I got a selfie with Phil (top), whom I’d been riding with all morning. We made our way back up to Route 30 and had just started down to screaming descent into Chester WV when I took a big, black bug right on the bridge of the nose.

We pulled into the “World’s Largest Teapot” rest stop at 10:47am with 82 KM complete. We were making good time and it was still only 22° and windless, making for ideal riding, even if the lack of sun made it less than spectacular visually. Like last year, all the climbing came in the first half of the ride, so it would all be flat and easy on the back half as we made our way upstream along the Ohio River. We had leapfrogged the other four century riders from time to time, and since the metric riders had passed through earlier, there weren’t many other riders behind us. Unfortunately, the rest stop was out of everything but water, which is just about the only thing that could be worse than Gatorade Zero!

The third segment featured the same terrifying crossing high over the Ohio River on the decrepit Newell Toll Bridge as last year. The less said about that the better; if you’re curious, go back and read last year’s ride report. I want to block it out of my memory as quickly as humanly possible. Then 8 KM of lousy Ohio roads were followed by 7 KM of terrible Pennsylvania roads before we pulled into the Subway lunch stop in Midland PA. It was 11:50am and I felt it could begin sprinkling at any minute. I dumped the water out of my bidon and replaced it with cola, downed a small meatball sub, and wistfully deferred getting a Dilly Bar from the Dairy Queen that shared the building.

From there it was up along River Ave in Beaver and back across the river into Monaca. After a two-minute rest we headed down the high-speed Route 51 highway, where Phil did a good portion of the pulling. I was just starting to feel the effort in my knees and neck, but was only just starting to tire. Then back across the river into Ambridge and our final rest stop at Sweetwater Bikes. We’d covered 133 KM in 6½ hours, and it was still a pleasant 25°, although we’d felt the first sprinkles as we were crossing the bridge. A mini cinnamon bite and more pointless Gatorade Zero, and we were back on the road.

The drizzle kept coming off and on as we made our way through Sewickley, across the Ohio once more into Coraopolis, then back across the backchannel to Neville Island and our starting point. But we were far from done. In order to add mileage, the official route did a big extra 9 KM loop around the heavily-industrialized island. But even then, we’d still be short of the official 100-mile mark, so Phil and I planned to keep going until we could claim an official century, even if the rain had picked up and we were both wet and dirty.

And so, with just 8 KM left to go, I found myself rolling along at speed, crossing the fourth or fifth set of train tracks on the island. But this one crossing featured big, wide, deep rail beds. I tried to jump the gaping holes, but you can’t jump three sets of rails, and I came down and hit the edge of one of the cement rail beds hard, causing a slowly-leaking pinch flat.

Fifteen minutes of wet, grimy work later, Phil and I had replaced and re-inflated my rear inner tube, after discovering that my spare tube was defective. Between the rain and my flat, it was a frustrating end to what had otherwise been a good day. We finished the “official” route by going back to the start, where I pulled my floor pump out of the car and topped up my tire while Phil got our finishers’ medals from the organizers.

Then we set off for a second loop around the island to complete our century. The sprinkles had stopped and the roads were drying out. We ticked over 100 miles almost exactly at the place I’d flatted on our previous circuit, then rolled back to the cars to pack up and head home. 164 KM at a 24.4 KM moving average and 1,524 meters of climbing. Although we’d completed the ride in 6:43 moving time, it was 3:15pm, so we’d been gone nearly 8¼ hours of clock time thanks to my flat, the long stops, the climbing, and the rain.

Thanks to the moderate temperatures, I finished feeling very comfortable and strong, which bodes well for next weekend’s remote Pan-Mass Challenge rides. My only physical complaint is a blister I gained on top of my left foot, which was probably due to irritation from my cycling sandals combined with rain and road grit. I’ll have to care for that over the coming week.

I will say that I’m noticeably slower this year, especially while ascending, which is understandably frustrating, but not the end of the world, considering how scarily the year started. There was always going to come a time when I stopped being able to keep up with the pack, and it’s probably good to accept that as I approach 60 years of age.

And with that, the stage is set for next weekend’s “remote” Pan-Mass Challenge. Even at this late date – the ride is in four days – I’m still trying to work out what my ride will look like. This is a very busy week, and I’m nervous about both the weather and the course. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax and be flexible enough to let the ride be a positive experience.

And, of course, if you have not yet supported my ride by making a donation to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, I’d be delighted if you could contribute something. While the actual ride looms large in my mind right now, the most important thing is advancing cancer research and treatment: a cause I’ve been riding for since 2001. Please give here.

Last Sunday was the Akron Bike Club’s Absolutely Beautiful Country ride: my second century of the year, my first major organized ride in ten months, and only my second big event since pre-Covid days. And it was pretty stellar…

It was especially rewarding after a disappointing June, which warrants a short summary. I skipped the two-day Escape to the Lake MS ride because I just wasn’t ready for that kind of distance. I hoped to drive to Ohio to ride my first Sunday in June event, but I punted when the forecast gave a 70% chance of rain (which infuriatingly never transpired). Then came the Tour of Mercer County, where the organizers withdrew the 100-mile ride at the last minute due to insufficient riders. On top of all that, I learned that the Mon Valley Century – scheduled for August – had also been cancelled. So by the end of June, I was feeling pretty dispirited.

2022 Akron Bike Club's ABC Century ride

2022 Akron Bike Club's ABC Century ride

Long shadows in the early morning

Long shadows in the early morning

Ornoth rides the endless farmland of Ohio

Ornoth rides the endless farmland of Ohio

I had hoped to get one more century under my belt before deciding whether to register for this year’s Pan-Mass Challenge as a remote rider, but finally gave in and signed up, just two days before registration closed. So if you want to support my riding – as well as the amazing research and treatment that takes place at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute – please take the time to sponsor my 17th PMC ride!

After all those problems in June, I watched the forecast for the ABC ride like a hawk. But despite my fears, the National Weather Service promised a perfect weekend. So I registered and picked up the Nissan Rogue SUV I had rented, since Inna had taken our car on a two-week road trip to New York and Vermont.

I’ve ridden the ABC three times previously – in 2017, 2018, and 2019 – and have always gotten up early to drive two hours to Akron, complete the ride, then drive home on the same day. That usually works well, but this year I couldn’t sleep, and wound up getting up at 2:45am with less than three hours’ rest. Luckily, that lack of sleep didn’t effect me much over the rest of the day.

At 4am I stuffed my bike and gear into the SUV and headed northwest outta town, only stopping at Sheetz in Cranberry for gas, a glazed donut, OJ, ice, and a sports drink. Rolling into Ohio, the dark sky slowly revealed the black silhouettes of the trees on the horizon, then the rich colors of a dawn sky, and eventually added color to the trees and farm fields.

Once parked at the Copley High School start, I checked into the ride, despite the organizers being unable to find my registration packet. Then I changed into riding kit, sprayed myself with sunblock, and made sure all my ride and post-ride gear was set. It was nice to pull my bike out of the SUV all ready to go; I would normally have to take off my front and rear wheels to fit it into the trunk of our sedan; so reassembling it was one less thing to worry about before setting off. The sky was brilliant, with a few clouds decorating the distant southern horizon, where they would hover all day. As it was a cool 13°C, I donned arm warmers and rolled off minutes before 7am.

Fifteen minutes later I stopped to quickly re-calibrate my new power meter pedals, which has now become standard procedure. Another 15 minutes of riding brought me to the semi-formal Windfall rest stop at Dunkin’ which has become the ride’s highlight since the unfortunate route change away from Dalton removed the popular free ice cream stop there. I quickly thanked the friendly ride volunteers, grabbed half a blueberry donut, and rolled on.

Riders were provided with a spectacular blue sky, no wind whatsoever, and a brilliant sun that quickly warmed me up enough to shed my arm warmers. I rolled along steadily but easily, conserving my strength for the long hours of riding still to come. On the first noticeable hill out of the ominously-named town of River Styx, I found myself unable to put much torque down without my chain skipping and falling off my worn front chainring, a worsening of a longstanding problem I’ve been unable to fix due to pandemic-related supply chain issues.

At 8:35am I pulled into the first rest stop in Seville with 43 km complete, having averaged 151W and 27.3 km/h; it was 16°C. After a pickle and refilling with ice and sports drink, I was back on the road in seven minutes.

Although only a couple hours away, riding in Ohio is immensely different than Pittsburgh’s challenging, lumpy terrain. It’s a wonderful opportunity to ride on mostly flat roads. Ohio features long, straight, sparsely-traveled roads running between endless fields of farmland, their borders marked by lines of trees. The only drawback is that those trees rarely line the roads, meaning there’s almost no shade to protect you from the heat of the sun, which featured in my previous editions of the ABC ride. Hence my liberal application of sunblock at the start.

Due to that heat, the asphalt roads melt into a smooth, featureless patina that lacks potholes and is a delight to ride on. Just when you are ready to pronounce Ohio a cycling paradise, you turn onto one of the innumerable secondary roads that isn’t surfaced with asphalt, but with “tar and chips”. In brief, a truck comes through and pours petroleum by-products onto the ground, and then dumps loose, coarse gravel on top of it. It’s not even tamped down; they rely on the hot summer sun and passing cars to eventually smush that slurry down into a “passable” road surface. But for cyclists, it’s a hellacious, dirty, dangerous, slow, and strength-sapping moonscape that will make you want to commit suicide right there.

In contrast to the open fields, this year’s route spent about 16 km on Overton Road, which is an atypically winding corridor paralleling Killbuck Creek. It provided a nice, scenic, tree-lined respite from the sun, but also a bit of a puzzle. The “creek” appeared to be made up of consecutive big, square farm fields that had been given over to swamp or open water rather than a crop. It was as if someone was playing a grid-based farm game, where they decided to develop one square as corn, another as soybeans, and then devoted a few consecutive plots to hold water. It was kinda surreal.

From there, we entered the picturesque downtown of Wooster (not Worcester), and the Ride On bike shop that was our halfway rest stop. I arrived at 10:35am with 92 km done, having averaged 136W on that segment; the temp had climbed to 22°. Over the course of a 20-minute stop, I downed a ham-and-gouda sandwich and filled my bidon with cola and ice for the challenging next leg.

I was still enjoying riding on such a nice day, but it was getting hotter, there were more hills and a bit of a headwind, and my stamina was starting to flag. The kilometers were ticking over more slowly than they had before, and I was riding almost exclusively alone. After being steady all day, my heart rate drifted higher, a sure indicator of fatigue. In the midday heat, the second half of the ride wasn’t going to be as easy as the first.

After a long trudge, I pulled into the final rest stop in Marshallville at 12:27pm. My bike computer reported 127 km done, a temp of 24°, and that my power had dropped to 125W on that segment. While recharging with cola and ice, my bike, which I’d rested against a picnic table, fell over onto the ground, but I didn’t pay much attention. Through the brain-fog of being late in a long ride, I realized I was really close to completing a seven-hour century, which is a solid accomplishment for me. I was suffering, but the final segment was a good time to use up what stamina I had left, in pursuit of a decent finishing time.

However, leaving the rest stop, my attention was sidetracked by the lack of power data coming from my new pedals. Repeated attempts to reconnect to them from my bike computer failed, and I eventually gave up. They could have been permanently broken when the bike fell over; they might have gone into some kind of “safe mode” due to their internal “incident detection” mechanism which would necessitate a reset; or the coin-cell batteries could have just gone dead. But I’d have to wait until after the ride to fix them.

Although I felt strong after that 10-minute rest, it didn’t last, and the final segment was slow and tough. My feet and knees were complaining, but I’d completed most of the climbing, I was keeping pace with the riders ahead of me, and the end was in sight.

I finally pulled into the high school parking lot at 2:03pm, exceeding that 7-hour century by about six minutes. 162 km done at an average speed of 25.4 km/h, with 1,264m of climbing; it was now a warm 28°C. I downed a quick lemonade at the finishing tent before changing back into street clothes and driving to the local Sheetz for postride drinks and snacks.

Then it was a two-hour drive home, a welcome from a persistent cat, a quick shower, and going to pick up four meals’ worth of Thai food.

Looking back, I have only two minor disappointments. One is not having power data for the last quarter of the ride. Fortunately, my power meter pedals recovered after I gave them a hard reset and fresh batteries. My other regret is that the nearly all of my photos are of the same undecorated blue sky, brilliant sun, and farmland; but that’s representative of summer in Ohio and the Absolutely Beautiful Country ride in particular.

Other than those nitpicks, I’m delighted. I’m pleased with my finishing time and stamina level, and happy with how the bike performed. I’m glad I made the drive, glad I could do the century route and complete my second 100-mile ride of the year, and delighted by the spectacular weather. And most importantly, I’m pleased at finally getting back to – and completing – another normal major event like the ABC ride.

If my luck holds out, over the next month I’ll be able to report out on my participation in the PMTCC’s 3-State Century, followed by the WPW’s Rough Diamond Century, which will constitute Day 1 of my remote ride for my 2022 Pan-Mass Challenge, a charity ride that I hope you’ll choose to sponsor me in.

Whether I’d ever ride another century has been in question since the chest pains I had back in January. Since then, I’ve slowly increased the distances I’ve been doing, and on Tuesday completed my first 100-mile ride in eight months.

Ornoth and the Allegheny River and Pittsburgh skyline

Ornoth and the Allegheny River and Pittsburgh skyline

Ornoth riding in Highland Park

Ornoth riding in Highland Park

Ornoth and the Ohio River with Pittsburgh's skyline

Ornoth and the Ohio River with Pittsburgh's skyline

R2-Di2 at Mon Wharf with river tug hauling coal barges beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge

R2-Di2 at Mon Wharf with river tug hauling coal barges beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge

Right after my last update in April, I spent eight days in Austin, but was disappointed that I never got to do any cycling down there (full trip report here). I’ve been ramping up since then, including Team Decaf group rides every Tuesday, doing some weekend rides with my buddy Ben, and knocking out a couple 100ks.

But that really didn’t answer my health concerns, nor help me decide whether to commit to upcoming major events or even another remote Pan-Mass Challenge this year. With these questions gaining urgency, it was time to put myself to the test with a long ride.

I’d considered doing my familiar route up to Saxonburg, Butler, and back, but that was made impossible by a huge freight train derailment in Harmar that closed Freeport Road indefinitely. So I fell back on another favorite: along the Monongahela River on quiet Bunola Road down to Mon City. I’d fill out the full 100 miles by starting with a circuit around Pittsburgh and down the Ohio River bike path, and also include a side spur up the Youghiogheny to Boston. And before you ask, “Youghiogheny” is an Indian word that literally translates to “stream that runs the wrong way”.

Knowing it was going to be a hot, sunny day, I applied a layer of sunblock and set out early. It was already a comfortable 19° at 7am. 

The first segment took me north to the Allegheny, then on a relaxed circuit around Pittsburgh, down the Ohio River bike path to the penitentiary and back. It was a very picturesque morning, and there were numerous stops for photos: overlooking the Allegheny in Highland Park, downtown to capture the skyline, watching a ferry take cars across the Ohio, and a river tug pushing coal barges underneath the Fort Pitt Bridge. Setting the theme for the ride, I think I passed every tugboat, train, and bunny rabbit there was to see in all of Western Pennsylvania.

The GAP trail to McKeesport featured two separate sets of senior citizens on bicycles trying to kill me, especially the moron near Sandcastle who was single-mindedly playing with his bike computer while riding in the oncoming lane, oblivious to everything around him. The temperature had climbed to 24° and my sweat-slimed and sunblock-sticky arms and legs were quickly coated with road grime and midges.

Leaving the trail, I followed the Monongahela on the sketchy road segment from McKeesport through Glassport and Elizabeth. Then the surprisingly quiet, undulating, riverside bliss of Bunola Road and across the bridge to Mon City just after 11am. After picking up some Gatorade, Funyuns, and Twizzlers at the local Sheetz, I moseyed over to Mr. Dick’s Aquatorium for my mid-ride break. I watched one river tug pull away and another one dock while munching my lunch.

With 94 K complete, I was about 60% done the ride. I’d rationed my effort and felt pretty good, although my neck and upper back were starting to hurt. Now reaching 28°, it was a classic summery day, and I was drenched in sweat. The promised afternoon headwind was just starting to pick up, but I figured I’d be okay if I watched my effort level, tried not to overheat, and caught up on my hydration. Unwisely, I’d only consumed one 26oz bottle of sport drink over four hours of riding, so I tried to make up for that.

Mounting back up, I backtracked up Bunola Road to McKeesport, then followed my familiar route along the Yough to Boston. Along the way, I was harassed by a vigilante driver in Glassport, somehow avoided a pinch-flat while jumping a curb in McKeesport, nearly got thrown from my bike in front of an oncoming car by a huge pothole on the dirt road approaching Versailles (“vur-SAYLZ”), and fought off leg cramps on the three-block 13% climb up to Walnut Street.

After a brief rest, I left Boston at 1:30pm with 130 KM on the odometer. Historically, I usually start to struggle about 80% of the way through century rides, and this was no exception. My power and speed dropped precipitously, so I stopped at the Kennywood water fountain to refill my bottle and doused myself with water to cool off. With nothing left in the tank, I continued on in purely survival mode.

When I got to Homestead, I stopped at the GetGo gas station for a cola and ice, only to discover their ice machine was broken. The cola – and a text message of encouragement from Inna — kept me going for the remaining distance up to the Hotmetal Bridge and the trailhead, where I poured more water over myself, contemplated the stupidity of living at the summit of a 110-meter climb, and phoned Inna solely to delay the inevitable. At least I was on the doorstep of 161 KM and wouldn’t have to tack on any additional wandering around to complete a full century.

Century complete, I crawled up the 8% grade on Forbes Ave, then passed my house and went down around the “Fruit Loop”, my usual 2-kilometer cooldown. That was probably a mistake, because my legs finally cramped up, forcing me to limp gingerly home. I arrived at 4pm and promptly used our garden hose to completely douse myself in cold water – the first time I’d ever thought to do so, and it was utterly delightful!

Although I finished 167 KM (103 miles) in exactly seven hours of ride time, that had taken nine hours of clock time, which is a pretty lame performance, especially for such a flat course. I climbed 940m, and my normalized power was 141W, or 1.8 W/kg.

My most immediate lesson learned is to do a better job hydrating and fueling. One bottle in the first four hours is not enough, even on a day that isn’t sweltering. I would have done better had I not sabotaged my own performance.

But overall, it was a great ride. It was a beautiful summery day, and the warm sunshine was delightful… until it wasn’t. And it was great getting my first legit century of the year in.

As I mentioned up top, this was an important test for me, to determine if I could plan to take part in my usual major events of the summer. The bottom line there is that yes, I’m still capable of completing a century, but that I still need more training and conditioning if I want to finish in comfort.

Sadly, it’s both too late and probably not advisable for me to undertake this weekend’s 2-day Escape to the Lake MS ride, but I’m giving serious thought to the following weekend’s “Sunday in June” over in Ohio. That ride consists of three loops that all begin and end in a central location, which provides convenient opportunities to abort the ride early if needed. Then there’s nothing on the schedule before the second week in July.

Which leaves the final question about whether I am going to sign up and ride my 17th Pan-Mass Challenge (again, remotely). This proves I’ll be physically capable, but the next question is whether I want to. The fundraising can be onerous, but I should have a couple weeks to myself to focus on it. To be honest and transparent, it’d be an easier decision if this year’s PMC event jersey wasn’t such a bland, stock design. But in the end, so long as physical limitations don’t prevent it, I’ll probably register, because the cause still resonates. I should still get another long ride under my belt before I decide, but watch this space!

If you log your rides to Strava and find yourself making the same changes to every Activity, you should know about the free ActivityFix utility.

ActivityFix banner

After you set it up, whenever you upload a new Activity, ActivityFix will automatically make whatever changes you’ve asked it to do.

What can you ask it to do? A ton! Almost any change you can imagine doing by hand to an Activity, except for changing its privacy settings. You can set up Rules to update the Activity Title and Description, Activity Type, Gear (bike) used, Map Type, and more.

You can include dynamic data derived from your Activity itself or set up custom counters. And each Rule can be triggered conditionally based on all kinds of criteria, giving you the ability to program all kinds of really powerful possibilities.

For example, here’s the Rules that I am currently using:

  1. For all Activities, automatically prepend the current date to the Activity Title, in my preferred abbreviated YYMMDD format.
  2. If Strava recognizes the Activity as a “Ride”, set Gear Used to my 2013 Specialized Roubaix road bike. But if the Activity is a “VirtualRide”, set Gear Used to my Wahoo Kickr CORE indoor trainer.
  3. If my Activity contains Wattage data from a power meter, set my Strava Map Type to show power; if there is no power data, set the Map Type to show heart rate.
  4. If the Activity is 100 miles or greater, append text to the ride description, using custom counters to say what lifetime century number it was, and what century number it was for the current year. The latter counter automatically resets when a new year begins.

And all of this happens instantly and without any intervention from me.

And that’s just a tiny smattering of what ActivityFix makes possible. Want to automatically add your annual total miles to date to the ride Description? No problem. Include the number of days counting down to a major event? Add your normalized power and average W/kg, but only for outdoor rides after 6pm on Tuesdays? Automatically hide commutes from your public feed? Or hide short warm-up rides on your indoor trainer? Hide all rides where your average speed was below 20 km/h? Yup, all of that and more. The unattainable is unknown at Zombo.com!

And ActivityFix is free like a free thing.

Want to hear moar? Here’s GPLama’s original 2021 review… But bear in mind that a ton of additional new features have been added in the seven months since this video was posted.

This is a perpetual/sticky/pinned post. It’s not my most recent posting; if you’re looking for that, simply scroll down or click here.

I pinned this post to the top of my cycling blog because the following charts are automatically updated after every bike ride (both outdoors and on the indoor trainer). So you can easily find this entry, which always shows my up-to-date Fitness numbers.

By “Fitness”, I’m specifically referring to my Chronic Training Load (or CTL), which is an exponentially weighted moving average of my Training Stress (TSS) over the preceding six weeks. You can learn more in this video, this web page, or this book.

So without further ado, here are my up-to-the-minute Fitness charts.

The first chart depicts my Fitness level over the past 12 months. Any red dots that appear represent rides of 100 miles or more. For comparison purposes, I’ve included a light grey line to show my normal/average Fitness over the course of a year.


Calendar-year charts: 2025 2024 2023 2022 2021
2020 2019 2018 2017 2016 2015 2014 2013 2012 2011

The second chart shows my long-term Fitness level since 2011, when I first started tracking my CTL. As expected, it peaks during the summer cycling season, and declines during the wintertime off-season, although less so since 2018, when I bought my indoor trainer.

 

Last we heard from our hero, he was looking forward to an “almost normal” year. That lasted all of four days.

On January 5th I did a Step Test: the first of three rides that comprise my usual functional threshold power (FTP) testing regime, to determine my baseline fitness level. These are vomit-inducing long-duration maximum intensity efforts. If you’re doing it correctly, you should feel like you’re dying. This one went “well”, producing a respectable FTP of 218 Watts.

Ready to die on that hill

Ready to die on that hill

2022 Tour of Watopia

2022 Tour of Watopia

Buddies on the PMC group ride

Buddies on the PMC group ride

Fineview overlook

Fineview overlook

First Team Decaf group ride of 2022

First Team Decaf group ride of 2022

However, that part about dying? That was just a leetle hyperbolic. I finished that workout with two kinds of chest pain: sharp, painful contractions on my left side that went away after 24 hours, and a dull ache in the center of my chest that remained for a few days.

Having experienced heart palpitations around this time last year as well, I was so concerned that I aborted my other two planned FTP tests and backed off my training frequency, duration, and intensity.

In recent weeks I underwent a coronary CT scan which mostly gave my arteries a clean bill of heath. So I’m gradually adding frequency, duration, and intensity back into my regime to see whether my heart explodes or not.

As you might imagine, my health has been by far the biggest item of note so far this year.

Next on the list would be the power meter pedals I picked up, but I already told you about those in this blogpo.

And that’s followed by my training status, or lack thereof. To give you an idea, during this year’s Tour of Watopia I rode 600 km over 9 stages; compare that to 2021, when I rode 1,350 km and completed 42 stages!

I haven’t entered spring at such a low level of fitness since 2018, before I bought my indoor trainer and when I was demoralized after successfully completing Pittsburgh’s Dirty Dozen. You can, of course, see my minimal 2022 training graphically on my Fitness Charts page.

However I still clocked 460 km in January, 520 in February, and 740 in March, and got out on unseasonably warm days to enjoy five 50-70 km outdoor rides

During that time, I attended every one of the Tuesday night virtual group rides on Zwift organized by the Pan-Mass Challenge. The camaraderie of the shared event and cause combines with the small size of the group to provide a close-knit social environment that I really enjoy. But in the back of my mind I quietly hope that the PMC Zwift ride never becomes so big that it loses its personal feel.

Which is exactly what happened to my previous Zwift virtual cycling club, the Herd. You might remember that I drove to Michigan and rode an IRL century with them back in 2019 (blogpo). Unfortunately, what in 2018 used to be an intimate little group of a few dozen riders now numbers sixteen thousand members, and all the people I knew well have moved on. I sadly just don’t feel any connection to the club anymore, and I’ve almost entirely stopped riding with them.

As for this year’s Pan-Mass Challenge main event, I’ve delayed committing to ride until I get more clarity about my health and what I’m physically able to do. Pittsburgh’s Rough Diamond Century – an event I’ve never done – is scheduled on PMC Saturday, so that seems like a viable way to conduct my own remote PMC ride. But I’m still operating in wait-and-see mode.

Another development was my New Years resolution to go 100 percent metric in all aspects of my life. So far that’s been both successful and painless for me (but not my partner). More details on that in a blogpo on my main blog.

With less time on the bike, I have more time on my hands for other things, which included a few updates to the Zenturizer, a tool I wrote in 2020 to find virtual routes on Zwift that match the distance and climbing on any real-world route. Enhancements included moving the data to a database, supporting event-only routes, adding new routes that Zwift has added, and much more intelligent handling of point-to-point routes that aren’t continual loops.

Still, the main storyline is that 2022 has started poorly, thanks to my chest pains. But we’re finally returning to a normal post-Covid calendar of major events, mostly clumped into the traditional high season: June, July, and August. I’m hopeful that by then I’ll be able to ride them without fear.

For now, outdoor riding season has begun, including weekly Team Decaf group rides, which conveniently occupy the same day and time as the (winter-only) PMC Zwift rides. I’ve got a bit of travel to get thru, but then plan to test my health out during the month of May, to see whether I should attempt the long major events in June, July, and August.

Measuring power is the gold standard of performance management on the bike. I’ve waited years for the industry to provide a pedal-based power meter that is accurate, uses mountain bike-style SPD cleats, is reasonably easy to use, and “affordable”.

In 2018 I bought a Wahoo Kickr Core indoor trainer, which allowed me to finally measure my power output over the winter. But when I took the bike off the trainer for the summer, I had to give up measuring power, and go back to estimating power (and thus fitness and fatigue) indirectly based on heart rate data.

Garmin Rally XC200 power meter pedals

However, after over a decade of waiting, last month I opened my wallet and acquired a set of Garmin Rally XC200 power meter pedals. Here’s some background and insight into how it’s been for me so far…

Why pedal-based? These days, you can throw a power meter on a bike in several places: pedals, crankarms, chainring spider, rear hub… A pedal-based system made sense for me because it’s the easiest to install, and the easiest to move from one bike to another. And unlike a hub or indoor trainer, it measures your power output earlier in the process, because some power is lost to friction and inefficiency in the drive train (as we’ll see in detail below).

Why the Garmin ones? One other option, the SRM X-Power, was about the same price, but they have a bad rep with pedals, and just didn’t seem able to manufacture them very quickly.

The only other option would be to buy a pair of non-SPD Favero Assioma pedals, rip out the internals, and plug that into a pair of Favero SPD pedal bodies. That would have been a couple hundred bucks cheaper, but would have voided their warranty, which is meaningful on a nearly $1,000 purchase.

Another argument in favor of the Garmins is that they have 2 to 4 times better battery life than the others.

A lot of this gets covered in exhaustive detail by the incomparable DC Rainmaker in his exhaustive Garmin Rally review from last year, as well as this year’s power meter pedal buyer’s guide.

Some miscellaneous notes: All these pedal-based units are double-sided (a necessary convenience), and also transmit your cadence to your bike computer, eliminating the need for a separate cadence monitor.

Like the Assiomas, the Garmin power meter is housed in the pedal spindle, and can be moved between pedal bodies of different styles. So if I ever decided to switch from SPD pedals to SPD-SL or Look Keo style cleats, I could just buy some empty pedal bodies and plug the power meter spindle right in.

Also, although the Garmins were very expensive, I got a tasty $240 discount thanks to REI’s spring members’ sale. Plus forthcoming reward bucks that could be applied to a new Garmin bike computer, if they were to ever release a new model…

Some usage notes: You need to keep a couple things in mind in addition to your battery life. One is that you need to let the unit acclimate to the outdoor temperature in order to get accurate readings, and that can take about ten minutes if you store and ride your bike in very different temperatures. And then you also need to do a zero-offset calibration about 10 or 15 minutes into every ride. It’s a bit of a bother, but it’s much better than we used to do with older power meters.

One big difference is the weight of the pedals. These pedals weigh 443g; they are replacing my current pedals, which weigh in at 306g. Although I’ll also be removing my dedicated cadence sensor from the bike, which is an additional 10g.

So what data do I get? I’ve already mentioned power (in Watts) and cadence, but there’s a shitton more. You get the power balance between your left and right legs. You get how much time you rode seated versus standing. You get measurements of how much power you produce at all points throughout the pedaling circle (even if that’s not of any practical value to anyone). You get measurements of whether your power is being delivered at the center of the pedal, or off to one side, which might indicate a bit of a fitting problem. And all of these are logged second-by-second for later analysis.

Can this get any geekier? I’m glad you asked!

So one of the biggest questions to ask of any power meter is its accuracy. The first units claimed to be accurate to ±5%, and up til now I’ve been assuming my Kickr is performing up to its ±2% claim. Most power meters these days (including my pedals) advertise ±1% accuracy, but how do I know? Well, let’s compare them against one another!

I’m going to look at two indoor trainer rides. The first is a March 31th 50-minute ride of Zwift’s Tour of Watopia Stage 3 on the hilly Downtown Titans route. The second, longer ride is ToW Stage 2’s flatter Watopia’s Waistband route on April 2th.

For each ride, I simultaneously recorded the power data coming from my Wahoo Kickr Core, and also that coming from my Garmin Rally XC200 pedals. So if things are working correctly, the measurements coming from each ride should be almost identical.

First, the numbers: As expected, cadence was virtually identical between the pedals and the crank-mounted dedicated cadence sensor (I did not take cadence from the Kickr, as trainers aren’t reliable for cadence data).

In contrast, the pedals registered an average power that was 2.7 to 4.1% higher than the trainer. Similarly, average weighted power came in 3.0 to 4.5% higher. Does that mean one power meter is slightly off, and how do we know which one?

No, everything’s fine. That small difference is eminently explainable by that thing I mentioned way back in paragraph four: power numbers coming from a trainer will be lower due to drive train losses that occur due to friction and flexion somewhere between the pedals, crankarms, chainrings, chain, cogset, and trainer. So they’ll naturally report a little lower numbers than pedals, which measure power transfer much earlier in the process. That would easily explain the 2.7 to 4.5% variation I saw.

But interestingly, when you look at maximum power (e.g. sprinting), the difference between the pedals and trainer falls to 0.6 to 1.0%. I haven’t got a good explanation for that yet.

But that’s all just summary data, and averages aren’t a great way to validate data over time. Much more revealing (and interesting) is the second-by-second detailed data. For that, we need some charts!

Next, the charts: So let’s compare the power data for each ride in the DC Rainmaker Analyzer Tool, overlaying the numbers for each ride from our two data sources to see how closely they match up. In all these charts, the red line is my Kickr Core trainer’s data, and the Garmin pedals are in green, and hopefully those lines will be almost identical.

First, let’s look at the power charts for the whole duration of both rides.

Chart: 3/31 power over 50 minutes Chart: 4/2 power over 90 minutes

It’s a little easier to see on the first chart, since it’s less busy, but in general the numbers reported by my pedals and my trainer line up really well, with the pedals giving slightly higher numbers, as expected.

Remember tho that the first chart is 50 minutes long, and the second is 90 minutes. So although things look pretty good (yay!), this is at an extremely coarse level. For a better comparison, we really need to zoom in a little closer. Let’s find a couple representative chunks in the 7- to 10-minute range.

Chart: 3/31 power over 7 minutes Chart: 4/2 power over 10 minutes

And there you go. Aside from the pedals’ slightly higher readings, the ups and downs of the charts are almost identical, close enough that the difference could easily be put down by the devices’ different sampling rates. No dropouts, no crazy spikes, or big differences between the curves.

In addition to a simple time-series comparison, there’s another way athletes look at power that might confirm our conclusion. For a sprinter, your overall power doesn’t matter so much as the maximum power you can put out and sustain over five, ten, maybe thirty seconds. So the critical power curve shows the maximum power you sustained over a particular duration. Obviously, the human body can generate a lot of power in short bursts, but can only sustain a more moderate power over durations measured in minutes and hours.

Unfortunately, as I’ve noted before, I’m keeping an eye on some cardiac issues and my chainrings are so worn that I can’t really sprint without dropping my chain, so my numbers are very pedestrian. Still, we can still draw some conclusions from my critical power curves for those two rides.

Chart: 3/31 critical power Chart: 4/2 critical power

And this perfectly confirms everything we’ve seen so far. At just about every duration, the pedals consistently read 3 to 5% higher than the trainer, as expected. The only variance is at durations shorter than 15 seconds, where the devices’ sampling rates might impact the numbers.

So my overall conclusion is that I can definitely rely on these pedals to produce accurate power data that is very consistent with my indoor trainer, keeping drive train losses in mind.

Unless you’re a cyclist, it’s hard to convey how exciting and interesting it is to finally have a power meter on the bike year-round. At the big-picture level, this means my power data will finally be consistent between indoor and outdoor seasons, thus giving me more reliable fitness and fatigue numbers.

This means I can not only monitor my fitness and fatigue month-by-month and year-over-year, but also precisely quantify and properly pace my level of effort and reserves on a minute-by-minute basis during an individual ride of whatever duration.

Judged against other years, my 2021 cycling season wasn’t bad. It was a refreshing return to a rough approximation of normality after the Covid-19 pandemic mostly cancelled the 2020 season.

In 2021, I enjoyed my first group rides, first centuries, and first major organized event in two years. I also achieved a new record level of fitness, reached Zwift’s maximum experience level, rode my 100th lifetime century, and completed my 16th Pan-Mass Challenge.

Summarized that way, it’s actually a hard year to beat! But I’ve got plenty more to say about it…

Modeling the 2021 PMC jersey in downtown Pittsburgh.

Modeling the 2021 PMC jersey in downtown Pittsburgh.

The first post-Covid Team Decaf group ride

The first post-Covid Team Decaf group ride

Ornoth & Phil overlooking the Ohio River during the Three-State century.

Ornoth & Phil overlooking the Ohio River during the Three-State century.

I completed 42 stages of Zwift's Tour of Watopia.

I completed 42 stages of Zwift's Tour of Watopia.

Banner for achieving Level 50 in Zwift.

Banner for achieving Level 50 in Zwift.

Celebrated completing another Pan-Mass Challenge, backed by my 16 PMC jerseys.

Celebrated completing another Pan-Mass Challenge, backed by my 16 PMC jerseys.

My Original 2021 Goals

A year ago, in the midst of the pandemic and with vaccines just starting to be manufactured, my goals for 2021 were only guesses. However, my predictions were pretty accurate.

Normality

I wanted to be comfortable stopping at convenience stores, so I could resume longer rides than I could on a single water bottle. Following my vaccinations in May, I finished a metric century on June 12th (writeup), and many more long rides thereafter.

I also longed to resume attending group rides, and did my first weekly Team Decaf ride on June 1 (writeup). Over the summer I’d join 14 of their 17 rides.

I wanted to return to my normal major events and century rides. However, most organizers shortened or cancelled their events. And after foregoing one century due to rain, I completed my first big event in two years on September 12: the PMTCC Three-State Century (writeup).

I also addressed my imbalance between indoor and outdoor riding. In 2020, 81% of my total 6,043 miles happened indoors. In 2021, I rode 6,215 miles (10,000 kilometers), and only 56% were on the trainer: a much healthier balance!

Zwift Level 50

After 2½ years, my biggest achievement to chase on Zwift was the game’s top experience level. In April I rode 42 (!) stages of the Tour of Watopia (since it offers double XP) and achieved Level 50 on April 27th, simultaneously setting an all-time fitness record (writeup).

But the cost for riding 860 miles in one month was a case of achilles tendonitis that kept me off the bike for the month of May. Oopsie!

Another Virtual PMC?

After riding all winter with several Pan-Mass Challenge luminaries on Zwift, I rode a second remote PMC, mimicking the distance and climbing of the traditional route. And happily rode outdoors instead of on the trainer!

Although different from the mass participation rides back in Massachusetts, I still enjoyed it, and raised 60% more for cancer research than last year. After 16 PMCs, my lifetime fundraising for Dana-Farber stands at $119,000! (writeup)

And my PMC fulfilled another of my annual goals:

My 100th Century+ Ride

This was the highlight of my year. I wanted to mark this achievement on a major organized ride, however that wasn’t possible. But even though I rode alone, finishing my lifetime 100th century+ on PMC weekend made it special. Read more toward the bottom of my PMC writeup.

Toronto Epic Tour Redux?

My registration for this 2020 ride – planned as a Herd cycling club gathering – was deferred to 2021, but with travel still inadvisable, I took the 50% refund they offered.

Which was fine; the 2021 Epic Tour was held on the same day as the PMTCC Three-State Century, which I rode instead, marking my first major event in two years.

Charts

This year’s fitness charts include a couple significant changes.

First: the static charts you see below are now available on a dynamic Fitness Charts page on my cycling website. They’re automatically updated after every ride to reflect my training throughout the year.

Second: the vertical scale changed on these charts to accommodate my new record fitness. For five years, my CTL (chronic training load) fit onto a vertical axis that ran from 0 to 100, but it now goes to 125, making everything look a little flatter than my previous summaries.

Let’s see what the charts say about my year:

Cycling Fitness: 2011-2021

This 11-year view shows that 2021 was incredibly similar to 2020. Let’s break down the similarities.

Both years began with steady winter training, ramping up to an early peak. In both years those were new fitness records.

However, in both years my fitness then fell quite substantially, dropping back to my long-term average at the end of May.

Over the summers, I maintained my level of fitness. My CTL followed a repeating up-and-down sawtooth pattern as I alternately trained hard, then tapered before major events, then completed a big ride, and recovered afterward. That pattern repeats all summer long.

As usual, my fitness tailed off in the autumn and I took time to recharge before another winter of indoor training.

Those are the similarities between 2020 and 2021. Zooming into this year’s chart in detail highlights some of the differences.

Cycling Fitness: 2021 Calendar Year (vs. average)

In 2020 I reached max fitness in January, whereas this year I timed my buildup a lot better, not peaking until the end of April.

The bad news: this year I lost as much fitness in the single month of May as I lost over four months in 2020, as tendonitis kept me from riding. That’s how I wound up back at the same point on June 1st.

However, another difference is that my fitness throughout this year was about 5% higher than 2020.

Which brings me back to that new fitness record, with my CTL reaching 103.97. Although it has no specific significance, breaking 100 CTL was a long-anticipated achievement, which only happened after my 860-mile blitz in April to reach Level 50 in Zwift.

But the biggest difference this year was how many centuries I completed. After doing 11 indoor centuries in 2020, this year I only did 4 (but three were outdoors)! So let’s talk about:

Riding with PMC President Jarrett Collins in the weekly Zwift group ride.

Riding with PMC President Jarrett Collins in the weekly Zwift group ride.

Proudly showing off the new in-game PMC jersey in Zwift.

Proudly showing off the new in-game PMC jersey in Zwift.

Sunrise on the castle climb in Zwift's new Japan-themed world.

Sunrise on the castle climb in Zwift's new Japan-themed world.

Enjoying the view from a rooftop ride in Zwift's new Neokyo expansion.

Enjoying the view from a rooftop ride in Zwift's new Neokyo expansion.

The Centuries

Starting with the unadorned list:

There are several reasons why I completed only four rides beyond 100 miles.

After doing 11 of them in 2020, I was sick and tired of indoor centuries, so I only did one of those. Solo centuries didn’t excite me, so I completed my PMC ride, plus one other. And Covid limited me to one major event.

I wasn’t motivated to push myself hard, following an intense two years that included 24 centuries (12 indoor/12 outdoor) and 12,600 total miles. After all that, I needed a relaxed year.

But it could also be… aging. Having another year on the odometer, my tolerance for high-intensity efforts is waning. Of course, I’ll continue fighting it, but I don’t relish the effort, since we know how that story inevitably ends.

Additional Highlights

Since indoor riding made up half my mileage, I’ll share a couple noteworthy developments on Zwift.

I began the year as a regular on weekly Pan-Mass Challenge group rides on Zwift that were led by Jarrett Collins, the newly-named PMC President. Those were suspended over the summer, but resumed in November.

To everyone’s delight, Jarrett got Zwift to approve an in-game PMC jersey that riders can unlock for their avatars to wear. The design honors the red tee shirts from the first Pan-Mass Challenge, in 1980. It quickly replaced the Zwift “Level 50” jersey I’d previously preferred!

Zwift also released a major new world called Makuri Islands. The fictionalized version of Japan was released in two phases: “Yumezi” features rural Japanese villages and countryside, and “Neokyo” is a neon-lit urban analogue to Tokyo. Both were well-received, but everyone’s holding their breath, hoping that a Mt. Fuji-like climb will materialize.

In the real world, health issues remained top-of-mind. May was torpedoed by achilles tendonitis, heart palpitations, and Covid vaccinations. I also addressed a longstanding irritation by swapping out my saddle (writeup). Seasonal asthma slowed my autumn riding, and aging-related performance declines remain an annoyance.

Another challenge was getting replacement bike parts due to the collapse of the bike industry’s supply chains in the pandemic’s wake, as well as Mavic’s receivership. My LBS jerry-rigged my recalcitrant rear wheel, but I can’t put high power through the pedals due to worn chainrings that I can’t replace.

Finally, in 2021 I gathered a collection of Strava Local Legend awards, which go to whomever has ridden a road segment most frequently. Here’s some of the segments I was named Local Legend on this year:

Riverview Park is the center of Pittsburgh's cycling universe.

Riverview Park is the center of Pittsburgh's cycling universe.

The Team Decaf group ride stops to admire the Pittsburgh skyline from the Fineview overlook.

The Team Decaf group ride stops to admire the Pittsburgh skyline from the Fineview overlook.

Noteworthy Purchases

Despite the bike industry’s disarray, I made several beneficial acquisitions.

Not a purchase, but (as mentioned above) I swapped out my extremely worn saddle for a less-used one off one of my other bikes. It’s not brand new, but don’t tell that to my butt! (writeup)

My biggest purchase was the new GoPro Hero 10 action video camera and accessories. It was too late in the year to produce much, but I have huge hopes for future rides. Tho I did create this 72-second vid:

Also on the topic of optics… Back in 2015, I bought plastic HydroTac stick-on bifocals that adhere to any pair of glasses with water: perfectly functional and cheaper than prescription sunglasses! This year I bought stronger ones and stuck ‘em on my Oakley sunglasses and some clear lenses I bought for night riding.

For evening and nighttime rides, I added a new headlight: a Niterider Lumina OLED 1200. Featuring LED bulbs and lithium batteries, it’s immensely better than my old AA-powered incandescent one. Along with the action cam, this was my best purchase of the year.

Having trouble procuring my preferred Michelin Power Endurance tires, I tried a pair of Continental GP5000s, a new model in a popular line of road tires. I like them a lot, although I miss my Michelins’ red sidewalls.

Also replaced the Shimano SM-BTR1 battery for my Di2 electronic drivetrain. After 8½ years, its original battery had lost capacity, and I needed a replacement, since they’re being discontinued.

I occasionally replace the caps on my Camelbak Podium Ice insulated water bottles due to mold. I bought four replacement lids after learning they were recently redesigned, making them easier to clean.

Finally, I got new ice cube trays. These ones are nicely-sized. I also got these thinking 2” cubes would work inside a hydration pack, but that proved unnecessary once I was vaccinated and could stop at convenience stores to refuel.

My 2021 cycling calendar/log.

My 2021 cycling calendar/log.

My 2021 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 62 minutes and 17 miles per day.

My 2021 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 62 minutes and 17 miles per day.

Blogposts

Goals for 2022

2021 was a big improvement over Covid-plagued 2020. But what will 2022 look like? I’ve got a whole checklist of idears:

  • Going 100% metric
    I’m taking the plunge. Far broader than just cycling, this impacts cooking, weather, travel, health… Don’t you think it’s about time?
  • Another 10,000 km year
    Here is where that transition begins. Having ridden 10,000 km in two of the past three years, my goal for 2022 will be to make it three out of four.
  • More major events
    Most ride organizers are resuming full-length events in 2022. I’m excited to revisit events I’ve missed since 2019.
  • Video ride reports
    It’s been eight years since my last ride video, and the GoPro should produce immensely better results. I wanna see what I can do with it.
  • Another remote PMC?
    I’ll probably sign up for a 17th Pan-Mass Challenge, again remotely. I’m awaiting the event jersey reveal, and considering potential routes. One remote possibility is a two-day, 200-mile ride crossing Western PA from south to north, ending on the shore of Lake Erie.
  • Zwift team time trial?
    I don’t race, but the Herd sponsors several teams for the WTRL team time trial series. The format is intriguing, so I’d like to try it out.
  • Bike repairs?
    This will be a concern until the bicycle industry recovers. My biggest problem is putting down sprinting power without my chain falling off my worn chainrings.

That’s 2021… It could have been better, but it was a big improvement over 2020, and there were several memorable highlights. 2021 fulfilled my hopes of getting closer to normality, and leaves us with the promise of an almost normal year as we roll into 2022.

Four years after successfully conquering Pittsburgh’s infamous Dirty Dozen ride (documented here), I’m still suffering PTSD. So instead of training up and riding this year, I once again chose to photograph the riders, as I did in both 2018 and 2019.

Dirty Dozen riders

It made perfect sense. After doing eleven indoor centuries in 2020, this year I just wasn’t motivated for the intense training that would be required. On top of that, my bike’s in pretty bad shape thanks to the unavailability of replacement parts due to supply chain issues. As if that wasn’t enough, this year had pretty typical Dirty Dozen weather: cold drizzle and temps in the 40s.

So I packed up my archaic dSLR and hit the slopes on foot, hitting four strategic locations: hill #6 Logan, hill #9 Canton, hill #10 Boustead, and hill #12 Eleanor. Yes, the numbers have changed, because of tweaks to this year’s course; Berryhill is back in, but the route still begins with Christopher, which this year stands in for Rialto, which was declared too difficult and dangerous to use.

During the long waits between grouped categories of riders, you often find yourself recognizing and/or chatting with other folks who have come out to spectate. At Eleanor, this year I chatted with an aspiring future Dirty Dozen rider named Ryan who had pored over my 2017 writeup to learn about the ride and the course. It’s always a delight when I find someone who has benefited from any of my writing, and especially my Dirty Dozen and Pan-Mass Challenge reports, so that was one of the day’s several highlights.

This year I came home with 414 photos, a tiny sampling of which appear below. To see the rest of my 86 curated shots, go visit my 2021 Dirty Dozen Flickr album. And for previous years, here are links to my 2019 blogpost & 2019 Flickr album, and my 2018 blogpost & 2018 Flickr album.

And as always: click for teh bigness.

Dirty Dozen riders Dirty Dozen rider
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