Summer is behind us, and the 2020 cycling season (such as it was) is ending.

It’s still too early to close the books on 2020, but I can get you caught up on where things stand a couple weeks into Q4.

McCahill Park @ Squaw Run

My last post was my ride report from a September 2th indoor century: my eleventh Zwift “Zentury” of the year. At that point, I planned to simulate two more real-world centuries on the indoor trainer: the traditional autumn Pedal the Lakes ride up in Mercer County; and the Epic Tour, which was originally going to be an international gathering of Herd team members up in Toronto.

However, a week later, my eight year old MacBook Pro started acting up, necessitating its replacement, and postponing those two big indoor rides.

On the upside, my brand-new laptop bumped Zwift’s graphics quality up from “high” to “ultra”, and also increased its frame rate from 10-20 to 50-70 fps.

But the downside was that — due to Apple’s terrible hardware, software, and service — it took three weeks to get my new laptop up and running. That pause blew a hole in my Zwift-based event plan, while my training and fitness levels dropped.

Meanwhile, I reconsidered whether I wanted to do those rides this late in the season. After eleven century-plus rides in seven months, I’m happy taking a break and doing a few shorter rides outdoors, before dwindling sunlight and autumn temps take hold.

Stopping also makes sense for next year’s plan. You see, as far as I can tell from my records, I’ve completed 97 century-plus bike rides. By ending the season now, I can save two indoor Zenturies for next season's preparation, then do a celebratory outdoor 100th century in the spring. That sounds great to me!

So with no more big rides, I’ve been toodling around on short outdoor rides, enjoying the warm weather and my remaining cycling fitness. Like last year, October and November will comprise my “off-season”, before I go back to indoor trainer workouts in December and January.

Having completed only one outdoor ride longer than 40 miles, 2020 has been a very strange year, but not uneventful. Although many of my achievements have been virtual or simulated, I kept at it, and retained good fitness for my age, despite the ongoing Coronavirus lockdown.

Now it’s time to relax and reflect: putting words and images together for my end-of-year wrapup blogpo, and adding next year’s big rides onto my cycling calendar.

3-2-1 Go!

Oct. 10th, 2017 07:53 pm

The first weeks of focused Dirty Dozen training are interrupted by the final long charity ride of the year: the Woiner Foundation’s 3-2-1 Ride.

At this time of year a completely flat metric century requires very little effort, so I don’t worry about any physical impact on my training. The biggest risk is if the date collides with one of the Dirty Dozen training rides, which this year it did not.

The Woiner Foundation supports research and treatment of pancreatic cancer and melanoma. Although I registered and fundraised for last year’s 3-2-1 Ride, I couldn’t participate because I had to unexpectedly fly to Maine to take care of my mother. So participating in and completing the 3-2-1 Ride was one of my expressed cycling goals for 2017.

Ornoth Starting 3-2-1 Ride @ Ohiopyle

Ornoth Starting 3-2-1 Ride @ Ohiopyle

Misty Morning Yough

Misty Morning Yough

Yough at Ohiopyle from GAP trail

Yough at Ohiopyle from GAP trail

The Red Waterfall

The Red Waterfall

For the event’s fifth year, in addition to the traditional metric century route starting in Connellsville, they gave top fundraisers the option of an 80-mile VIP ride starting in Ohiopyle, the site of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater house, as well as a memorable stop for me during the 2000 DargonZine Summit. Between the ride itself and the additional 14 miles of riding to and from the start at Heinz Field, I figured I’d extend it for my sixth (and final) century of the year.

Friday’s pre-ride packet pickup should have been named “luggage pickup”, as I collected my bib number, VIP rider’s jersey, a windbreaker, the event tee shirt, two water bottles, and two goody bags full of keychains, chain lube, sunblock, coupons, event info, assorted flyers, etc. I was given the choice of any bib number from 2 to 50, and opted for number 11.

Saturday was the off day between packet pickup and Sunday’s ride. But it was also the date of the first Dirty Dozen group training ride of the year. I attended that, which was of course a hard workout, covering four of the thirteen hills. Not ideal preparation less than 24 hours before a century…

Sunday morning I was up at 4:30. The temp was only 45 in Pittsburgh, and a stingy 37 in Ohiopyle, necessitating extra cold-weather gear. However, it was supposed to be 67 by the time we finished, and that huge temperature spread meant that I’d eventually have to stow all my extra gear, as well. The extra-quiet 5am ride to the start was cold, but I was fine except for my ears.

After checking in, I waited until the last minute to put my bike on the truck, thinking “last in, first out”. There were only about 25 riders on the bus to Ohiopyle, but that included FOAF Jen Braun.

During the 90-minute bus ride down to Ohiopyle, as the sun reluctantly rose I kept an eye out for fog. There was a lot of it around, especially in the valleys. Eventually we were deposited in a river outfitter’s parking lot, and I led the group march up to the bathrooms.

As planned, my bike was the first off the accompanying cargo truck. I grabbed it, did my final setup, and rolled out a little before 8am. No ceremonial group start for this group! Before leaving town, I stopped briefly to get some photos of the river and a selfie in front of the former Ohiopyle train depot at the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) trailhead.

After that, it was just a whole lot of crushed limestone rail trail, with virtually no other people in sight. Although I wouldn’t call the scenery monotonous, it was definitely mile after mile of the same thing: a steep wooded hillside going upward on my left, a flat spot for the trail, and then a wooded hillside sloping down about 50 feet to the Youghioheny River on the right, with more woods on the far shore. It didn’t seem deserving of the local nickname “the Yough”, which is pronounced “Yuck”.

A little earlier in the year the trail would have been inundated with wildflowers; a little later, and you’d have beautiful fall foliage. But despite the odd timing, it was very scenic. There wasn’t much fog, which I ascribed to the rapidly-moving water, but the misty morning still provided ample photo ops.

About 18 miles into the ride we crossed through Connellsville, where the metric century riders had started their ride. There was a little more foot and bike traffic on the trail near these small towns along the way, especially as the day warmed up. However, past Connellsville the trail wasn’t quite as scenic as that section starting out in Ohiopyle.

The riding was easy, with the early sections being an imperceptible descent transitioning into pan-flat. My GPS registered a stunning 3.3 feet of climbing per mile, making it by far the flattest ride you’ll ever find around Pittsburgh. It was very comfortable riding… at least at first.

One of the downsides of the 80-mile VIP route was that there were no extra water stops; we wouldn’t reach our first one until mile 45, at Cedar Creek Park in Port Royal. By then it was 10:30am and I needed food and fluid, since my winter gloves prohibited eating anything I carried with me while riding. Sadly, all they had were unripe bananas and a horrible sugar-free “electrolyte drink” with the same nutritional “benefits” as the emetic ipecac. No sports drink at all! I settled for one Rice Krispy Treat and unadulterated water.

Rolling on, things got uncomfortable. The lack of any descending meant it was impossible to coast. I had to keep pumping my legs incessantly, which began to grate after three or four hours. And getting out of the saddle to stretch only reminded me that I’d climbed four of the steepest hills in Pittsburgh the day before. On top of that, the unforgivable lack of food and drink left me weaker and more depleted than usual. And with the temperature rising through the mid-60s, I was starting to poach inside my winter gear, despite the easy pace.

It was all topped off by the frustration of being unable to operate my bike computer, because the touchscreen wouldn’t respond to my full-fingered winter gloves. In a deliriously joyful flash of insight I realized that if I bent down toward my handlebars, I could operate the touchscreen with my one bare extremity—my nose!—but the screen became unreadable after three or four swipes of a sweaty, greasy nose.

An hour and a half of that kind of thing, and I arrived at the second rest stop: in Boston (PA). This is where everything turned around and started going right for me again. To begin with, Boston was my first sighting of familiar territory; it was the farthest I’d ridden down the GAP (or up the Yough) from Pittsburgh, which meant the end was getting closer.

It had turned into a beautiful day, so I stripped off my excess gear: winter jacket, arm warmers, winter gloves, and leg warmers. It felt great, but it took some time and effort to jam all that stuff into my saddle bag and jersey pockets!

More importantly, there was food! They had a variety pack of snacks, so I ate a bag of sour cream & onion potato chips, and a bag of barbecue potato chips, and a bag of cheese curls, and some of the dried fruit left in my pockets. Although they still only had water and that ipecac drink, I spent $2 on a bottle of Gatorade from the trailside souvenir shop, so I was able to get back onto my regular fueling protocol.

Things got even better after convincing myself to get back on the bike. The trail transitioned to asphalt, making for a much smoother and easier ride. While the crushed limestone surface hadn’t been bad, I’d worried about the chance of getting a flat tire.

In no time we reached McKeesport, which is my frequent turn-around point on my excursions from Pittsburgh. A few days earlier, there’d been a big coal train derailment that had caused a detour for trail users, but we used the usual route, seeing only a few workers finishing some cleanup.

90 minutes later, at 2pm I crossed the Allegheny and rolled down toward Heinz Field. I passed under the finish line balloon arch, but the event photographers weren’t in the mood to capture that moment. Still, I claimed my VIP finisher’s medal and rolled over to the food tent.

I spent some time munching at the finish line, cheering riders coming in and giving feedback to Ric, one of the event’s founders. I made sure to emphasize the near-fatal drink mixes.

After not-quite-enough rest, I hopped back on the bike for the ride home. Instead of going directly, I went up the Allegheny, climbed up through Highland Park, and across town. That added just enough mileage for me to finish with an even 100 miles, completing that sixth century of the year.

Not yet complete, however, was the desperately-needed cleaning of the bike, which—after 65 miles on a crushed limestone bike trail—was absolutely filthy. Ugh!

As expected, the 3-2-1 Ride was a nice experience, and I enjoyed being able to participate, after having been out of town last year. It was fun being able to ride back from Ohiopyle, over a long section of the GAP trail that I’ve never seen before. Although it shares the late-season time slot, it didn’t interfere at all with my Dirty Dozen training. It was nice to support a small but growing grassroots cycling fundraiser early in its history. And I added another $590 to my already impressive sum of money raised for charity, and specifically for cancer research, treatment, and prevention.

When I lived in Boston, autumn meant easy rides and enjoying being at peak fitness. But in Pittsburgh, it’s just the opposite.

Before the move, my entire season was structured to put me in peak form for early August and the Pan-Mass Challenge. Once that was over, I had three months or more to enjoy riding for pleasure, rather than for performance, before the weather put an end to my season. Sure, there’d probably be a fall century or two, but nothing I needed to train for, since I was already at peak form. Autumn rides in New England were part of the payback for all the painful spring and summer training.

The calendar is a little different here in Pittsburgh. Instead of having most of August free, I had two centuries and three very hilly metrics, right through Labor Day. So I couldn’t think about taking it easy until after the end of August.

From Labor Day onward, the calendar is mostly open for the rest of the year. I’ve got a very flat (and mostly crushed limestone) metric century 3-2-1 charity ride in the middle of October, but that’ll be a cakewalk.

Riders on Canton Ave

But there is one major event left on Pittsburgh’s annual cycling calendar, and it’s hard enough to destroy any notion of taking it easy: the Dirty Dozen.

For over thirty years cycling legend Danny Chew (who was recently paralyzed) has run the Dirty Dozen ride, where two or three hundred cyclists tackle thirteen of the steepest streets in this extremely hilly town. It’s Pittsburgh’s most legendary, mythical, signature cycling event.

How can I communicate how ridiculously steep these hills are? In Boston, if people want a workout, they might climb Park Ave hill up to the town’s water tower. Park Ave has a slope of 6 percent. None of the Dirty Dozen hills are less than 20 percent—several surpass 30 percent—and Canton Ave tops out at 37 percent, steeper than any other public street in the world. Steeper than anything you have ever seen in San Francisco, Los Angeles, or the Alps. Much steeper than anything professional cyclists tackle.

Imagine trying to ride up a ramp that’s steeper than a staircase. You might think that’s an overstatement, but the sidewalks along Dirty Dozen streets—when there are any—are in the form of stairs, as you can see here or here.

Needless to say, average riders—even proficient roadies—don’t undertake the Dirty Dozen without some very serious hill training. The ludicrous harshness of each hill, combined with trying to cajole your legs into doing no less than thirteen of them back-to-back, demand preparation via a very focused period of incredibly intense training.

For that reason, there’s a seven-week series of group training rides that run through all of October and most of November. They begin by tackling three hills per ride, then graduate to six, and culminate with a full practice run of all thirteen, two weeks before the race, which is held on the Saturday following Thanksgiving.

2016 first training ride

This year’s first training ride (GPS log) was held yesterday. It was wet and rainy, which provided a test of tire traction that two riders of our fourteen failed spectacularly. The biggest lesson I learned is that I need to replace the cleats on my winter shoes. No harm done.

The group ride covered the first three hills (Center/Guyasuta, Ravine, and Berryhill), and the fourth hill (High/Seavey) was optional. After finishing those, I went and added the 13th hill (Flowers/Kilbourne/Tesla), since it’s on my way home. It was my first time doing five DD hills in one ride, and I definitely felt it.

Over the past couple weeks, I’ve ridden eleven of the thirteen hills, for a total of 20 ascents. I haven’t gotten around to #9 Canton and #10 Boustead, since they’re very hard to get to. And there are two (#5 Logan and #7 Suffolk) that I haven’t completed without stopping, so I’m going to have to work up to those. And that’s gonna be a full-time job for the next eight weeks.

So unlike years past in Boston, there’s no easy wind-down of the cycling year in Pittsburgh; at least not if you’re going to ride the Dirty Dozen. And because they’re so intense and require recovery time afterward, intense hill repeats don’t combine well with the kind of long-distance rides I usually prefer. That means my lengthy endurance rides are over for this year; instead I’m embarking on a very steep and painful build-up to what will undoubtedly be the hardest and most challenging ride of my life.

WQED did a half-hour story during the 2010 Dirty Dozen ride. If you’re curious to learn more about the riders and the hills and the overall spectacle, it’s a pretty digestible nugget. You can find that here.

Bicycling magazine used to have a monthly feature called “The Big Question”, queries which solicited short, witty contributions from readers. After my recent review of my old magazines, I decided to post my responses to a few of them. I’m sorry they’re more serious than witty, but that’s my nature, and hopefully they’ll give you a little more knowledge about me as a cyclist.

How did you get into cycling?

When I moved into Boston, I spent several years inline skating. For some reason, I decided to start commuting to work (2 miles) by bike, and then the challenge of a long ride started to call to me.

Who would you most like to turn into a cyclist?

Without question, my former, future, and present significant others. Part of that is to promote healthy activity, but the other half is to share all the beautiful places I’ve seen and experiences I’ve had in the saddle, which just can’t be communicated in words. It’s a part of my life that they have never been able to share or fully appreciate.

When do you feel most like a cyclist?
What’s your bike’s favorite season?

This one’s easy: late summer. Winter’s too cold, and spring is beset by strong headwinds and the painful process of training up to peak fitness. In late summer, it’s still beautifully warm out, but with all one’s major events done, one can forget training and ride for the pure enjoyment of it, reveling in the ease that comes with peak fitness.

How did you pick your bike?

First I identified the criteria I’d use to make a decision. Second, I reviewed the literature to identify bikes that would meet those criteria. Then I went out and rode lots of bikes, because the real final determiner is how the bike feels under you. Then I bought from the closest LBS to my house.

How do you know when you’ve found the right bike?

When it feels like a part of you, allowing you to move through the world almost effortlessly.

What does your bike want?

The Plastic Bullet would love to have its youthful vigor and health back. After 12,000 miles of riding, it’s had tires, wheels, cranks, bottom bracket, chainrings, chains, cassettes, and a brake/shift lever replaced, and the frame has acquired a bunch of little dings. It’s starting to look a bit beat, but it should continue to serve for a while yet.

What gender is your bike?

My bike doesn’t have a gender. “Bicycle” *is* a gender.

Old-school or cutting-edge?

Cutting-edge, no question. I never want to become one of those old-school cranks with their Brooks saddles and Sturmey-Archer hubs and DPW-surplus reflective vests.

Eat to ride or ride to eat?

Can you tell me any reason why I should need to choose between them?

Faster climb or faster sprint?

Climbs have always motivated me, whereas sprints just seem like typical male dicksizing. And I’ve never been a fast-twitch muscle fiber guy. My sprint lasts about 3400 milliseconds.

Faster or farther?

Definitely farther. See previous question! Plus by going farther you get to see more interesting places. Going faster just means you’re less present to experience the beauty of the locale you’re riding through.

How far do you go?

How far *can* I go?

What finally makes you quit?

My knees are rapidly going to hell, and I get terrible neck pain on longer rides. I was always surprised that lack of strength is never the limiting factor; instead, it’s these niggling little incapacities that have nothing to do with your actual stamina, endurance, and desire.

When do you go slow?

I go slow a fair amount of the time. Unless you’re training, there’s no real need to push yourself to go faster.

What’s the best cycling advice you ever got?

Probably the best suggestion was a meta-suggestion: go check out the rides Bobby Mac puts on at Quad Cycles. I have to credit Bobby with nurturing the inspiration, drive, and know-how for me to develop into an experienced and accomplished cyclist.

What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a bike?

This is a tough one, but I think my big childhood bike accident qualifies. A friend grabbed my baseball glove and rode off. When I caught up to him on my bike, I veered into him sideways to intimidate him so that he’d give it back. In the process, his pedal went into the spokes of my front wheel, and I instantly was thrown over the bars. Not my best planned strategy.

What makes a ride great?

A great ride consists of enjoying the spectacle of nature, the inner quietness that comes with focused riding, the physical ease that comes with peak fitness, and sharing all of that with close friends.

What did you smell on your last ride?

It’s spring, so typical seasonal smells include dogwood, lilacs, spreadered manure, and the cool, watery smell of lakes and rivers.

Where’s the best place to end a ride?

The ice cream shop, duh!

How has cycling changed you?
Has cycling made you a better person?

Absolutely. I’m healthier, wealthier, more philanthropic, and more at peace with nature, all because I’m a cyclist.

What’s the greatest thing you’ve ever done on a bike?

I don’t think I could answer this any other way than to say that I have derived a ton of satisfaction from the $60,000 I’ve raised (so far) for cancer research by riding in the Pan-Mass Challenge.

What was your best moment on a bike?

This is a tough one, but the thing that immediately comes to mind is the first time I crossed the PMC finish line in Provincetown.

What was your toughest mile?

At 112 miles, the first day of the PMC is always tough. Although that first time I finished in Provincetown was also hard, because I was having severe knee pain.

How is bicycling like a religion?

Cycling has its own ethics and culture, along with many different “sects”. Cycling is a solitary activity that promotes quiet contemplation. Cyclists know that although we each understand the joy of the ride, it’s something that can’t be communicated in words to someone who hasn’t experienced it themselves. Even between cyclists, that feeling can only be shared, not fully captured in words.

Why don’t the others understand?

Because they view the bike in a very limited way. There’s one thing that bicycles share with automobiles and trains and motorcycles, which is a sense of freedom and exploration. That’s why all these conveyances inspire enthusiast groups who all share a very similar kind of passionate devotion. If you compare cycling to the great American love affair with the automobile and the open road, you will actually see an awful lot of similarities.

What’s cycling’s greatest lesson?

Simplicity of life has immense payoffs that easily eclipse the hectic, self-obsessed, compulsiveness and materialism of modern life.

Today was another big adventure. All summer long I've been fascinated by the first graph on Doug Jansen's Northeast Road Hill Climb Profiles page. It lists eleven of the longest and steepest paved summit climbs in New England. Earlier in the year I told you about climbing Mount Wachusett, which is listed there as "the easiest climb reviewed". Well, as my 40th birthday approached, and with the end of the season fast approaching, and with the autumn foliage in color, I decided to make a road trip and bag the next two bigger mountains, which also happened to be the closest to Boston.

So today, despite a forecast for afternoon rain, I headed up to Manchester, New Hampshire. I parked in Goffstown and proceeded to bike to the summit of South Uncanoonuc Mountain (photo). Unca really didn't live up to its billing; it seemed about on par with Great Blue Hill, which must be about right: Unca rises 500 feet to an altitude of 1300 feet in about a mile, at an average 9 percent grade. Some of the roads had been resurfaced, but others were badly broken up, including the main summit road. It was good exercise, but not that tough a challenge.

Just as the very light rain began to pick up in earnest, I drove a few miles to Wilton, New Hampshire, where I'd depart for an 18-mile round trip to Pack Monadnock and back. I gained 1100 feet over the eight mile approach alone, before even getting to the mountain, which was pretty formidable: rocky cliffs, two real switchbacks, and an ascent of 770 feet over a mile and a quarter, for an average grade of 12 percent. But the killer was that the last fifth of a mile was a veritable wall, with a sustained grade of 19 percent. Pack is actually steeper than famed Mount Washington, although obviously only a fraction as long.

Over the whole day I rode 39 miles and climbed a total of about 4100 feet. Unfortunately, the whole ride to Pack and back was in pouring rain along a busy highway, but other than that, it was quite a memorable ride. While Uncanoonuc isn't anything I'd go out of my way to do again, Pack really was quite a nice ride, and would be absolutely amazing on a clear, warm day. It would have produced some wonderful pictures, but it was raining too hard.

I'm glad to end my season, and unfortunately my thirties, by conquering two more noteworthy mountains. And now I've only got Cadillac left, and then I make the big jump to the set of 2200- to 2800-foot ascents, but those will all have to wait until next season.

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