Orny's Cycling Journal

Normally I wouldn’t consider doing a long-distance ride like the Pittsburgh Randonneurs’ McConnell’s Mill 200k brevet this early in the season. April is way too cold for long rides, and there’s no way I could have completed the training required to be prepared for 130 miles.

On the other hand, this winter has been so mild that I’ve ridden more than usual this year. Although none of that riding was anything near century-length rides, I figured I had enough miles under my belt to consider undertaking the hilly 130-mile challenge.

That desire was reinforced when Pittsburgh suddenly found itself in the middle of an unprecedented week of cloudless sun and temperatures in the 70s. With sunny days at a premium here, there was no doubt I’d spend the weekend in the saddle, and the 200k seemed perfectly timed.

On the other hand, there was reason for trepidation. This wasn’t just any hilly ride. Out of all the rides I’ve done since getting a GPS, the Mt. Washington Century, which traverses three mountain passes and claims to be the most challenging century in New England, contains the most climbing: around 5,900 feet by my records. The brevet route climbs 8,800 feet, the equivalent of one and a half Mt. Washingtons! Not a ride for someone who hasn’t trained for it.

But wait; there’s more. I couldn’t do the ride on my current bike (R2-Di2) because a week earlier I’d discovered cracks in the wheel rim and was waiting for a brand new rear wheel to arrive at the bike shop.

In the meantime I’d been riding my old bike (the Plastic Bullet), but two days before the brevet, its rear wheel also started acting up, making a horrible screeching noise anytime I coasted at speed, which I eventually traced to the freehub. In theory it was rideable, so long as you constantly pedaled and didn’t ever coast…

So that was the decision I had to make the day before the event. 130 miles, ten hours in the saddle, far more climbing than I’ve ever done, on very limited training, without coasting, on a broken bike? Yeah, sign me up for that!

So Saturday morning I found myself riding 8 miles to the start in Shaler, pedaling all the way. It was a pretty cold 52 degrees at 6am, but the forecast expected it to warm up a lot.

There were a mere eight starters, and I knew several of them from a ride down to Monongahela back in February. After photos and a briefing, we left the organizer’s house at 7am and immediately dove down a very steep 125-foot hill to the banks of the Allegheny. After having to brake and spin the pedals all the way down, I found myself off the back, but I caught up again easily.

The first segment was a flat 16 miles along the river on Freeport Street to Tarentum. The group mostly stayed together. My hands and feet (in my cycling sandals) went numb, but with the sun rising, warmer temps were coming. Thankfully, it was going to be a rare windless day.

From there, the route turned away from the river and up Bull Creek Road, one of many routes that follow stream beds up to the high plateau that surround the three rivers. But we soon left the stream valley and began the first serious climb of the day up Sun Mine Road.

That splintered our happy little group into shards, with myself and two experienced cyclists—Monica & Stef—leaving the rest of the group strewn along the climb in our wake. 23 miles into the ride, we now faced 100 miles of interval training: constantly rolling steep hills with zero flat to provide any respite.

Just after 10:30am we reached the West Sunbury country store that was the 53-mile checkpoint. The three of us refueled, and I jumped into the bathroom to quickly strip off my arm warmers, base layer, and cycling cap since the day had warmed substantially. The last one out of the store, I had to run to catch up to the girls as they left. It was then that I realized that after taking off my base layer, I hadn’t pulled the shoulder straps of my bib shorts up before putting my jersey back on! I stopped and quickly executed the reverse of the women’s “remove my bra straps without taking off my shirt” maneuver and set off to catch back up.

After passing through more hilly farmland, at noon we traversed Cooper’s Lake Campground. This is the site of the Society For Creative Anachronism medieval recreationist group’s huge Pennsic War, which my ex-wife and I attended three times, our first time being our honeymoon trip. Passing through the area brought back lots of memories, but it was hard to correlate 30-year old memories of a crowded campground with the open fields I saw as I rode past.

An hour later the temperatures were climbing toward 80 degrees, and with no shade in sight I was starting to fall behind Stef and Monica. I caught up with them at the 83-mile checkpoint at a 7-Eleven in Ellwood City. Stef left soon after I arrived, and that was the last we saw of her that day. Monica and I rode off after a rest, staying within shouting distance for the remaining 40 miles.

By half past two we hit the century mark while passing through the town of Cranberry. 7.5 hours, which is no record, but it’s pretty good, given the endless climbing we’d endured.

Half an hour later we stopped at another convenience store to refuel and rest. We’d take a couple more short stops for breathers over the remaining route, because I was flagging and Monica was having difficulty with her exercise-induced asthma. Another half hour had us passing through North Park and over the last major climbs of the ride.

Eventually we came out on Wible Run Road, a sustained stream-bed descent that led us finally back down into the valley of the Allegheny near the start.

A mile from the finish my GPS finally conked out. Losing the last mile of data isn’t a big deal, except that it included the vicious 12-percent grade climb back up to the organizer’s house, which reminded me a lot of the brutal finishing climb to the Mt. Washington Century, except shorter. Only later did the organizer reveal that he had chosen not to have us take an easier route to his home!

Monica and I pulled in at 4:56pm, just shy of 10 hours in the saddle. Stef, the only rider who finished ahead of us, had already checked in and gone home. The others drifted in and out over time while I waited for Inna to pick me up and munched on some well-earned pizza and soda.

Normally at this point I’d be all hyped up about getting my randonneur’s 200k finishing medal, but the organizing body and I had a parting of ways back in 2007, so I won’t be giving them the membership fee necessary to get the medal I earned.

So let’s do some context-setting here, because this was a milestone ride in many ways. My longest ride in Pittsburgh, longest ride and first century or double metric this year, first brevet in ten years, earliest in the year that I’ve ever done a century or 200k, exceeded my previous max climbing on any ride by 50 percent, probably only my sixth ride with more than a mile of climbing, and it also put me well over 50,000 feet of climbing (nearly 11 miles of vertical) so far this year.

Between the distance, the heat, the hills, and the broken bike, I’m pretty proud to have completed what will be one of the longest rides of the year, and notched my first century amongst the hills of western Pennsylvania.

Before I close, a quick review of how March went.

March was without question an excellent month: 400 miles of riding, with a stoopid 26,000 feet of climbing.

The month included exploration rides around McKeesport, Days Run up near Tarentum, Lowries Run into Emsworth, the GAP trail up to Boston (PA) and back, Dorseyville and Indianola, Munhall and the South Hills.

There were several particular highlights. One was finding and setting my first Tag-o-Rama locations, as described in an earlier post. I conquered four more of Pittsburgh’s brutal Dirty Dozen hills on the way to my first-ever Strava Climbing Challenge victory, although the worst of the hills— Barry/Holt/Eleanor—required a dab near the top after I pulled my shoe out of the pedal cleat. That same ride took me down the Montour Trail to the town of McMurray in memory of my mentor and hero Bobby Mac, where I stopped and had a memorial ice cream at a roadside stand that offered—appropriately enough—a “Dino Sundae”. My longest (now superseded, of course) was a 72-mile expedition out to Bakertown and over to Ambridge, where I came across a massive cheez ball spill in the middle of the woods in Sewickley.

So things seem to be going really well so far this year, aside from both bikes currently having broken rear wheels, of course.

One of the ironies of being hired by Buildium was that they field a team for the Cape Cod Getaway MS Ride. Being well-known for my cycling, I was pretty much obligated to ride, despite having made a big deal about quitting the PMC—the big charity ride I’ve been involved with for 14 years—last year. Nonetheless, I was looking forward to the MS Ride, which took place a week ago.

Another interesting bit is that it is kind of a clone of my yearly Outriders ride. Both go from Boston to Provincetown, and the two rides take place on consecutive weekends. The big difference is that Outriders is a single 130-mile day, while the MS Ride is 175 miles over two days. Or at least it’s supposed to be…

The day before this year’s ride kicked off, the weather report was bad enough that the organizers decided to pre-emptively cancel Sunday’s 75-mile leg up Cape Cod from Bourne to Provincetown. They expected driving rain and winds above 50 mph, which made it impossible for the ferry to run and bring riders back to Boston.

Since the storm wasn’t going to arrive until Saturday night, they decided to still hold the first day’s 75-or-100-mile leg from Boston to Bourne. It dawned comfortably cool and somewhat overcast. After getting up early and packing my bag, I hopped on my bike for a 4-mile warm-up ride down to the start at UMass Boston.

At the start I met up with the rest of the Buildium team, including former Sapient colleague Andrew Blackwell, whom I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. In addition to local and remote employees, our 60-person team included friends and relatives, people from the Seattle-based company we recently acquired, and investors. I also spoke to old friend Johnny H, who was manning the Quad Cycles repair tent.

Finally the starting time came, but not before some speechifying. Near the end, the captain for Team Velox Rota spoke in memory of Bobby Mac, the Quad Cycles ride leader in whose memory I’d devoted last year’s final Pan-Mass Challenge ride. He quoted two of Bobby’s most famous sayings: You can go fast, you can go long, but you can’t go fast for long; and: Ride with love in your hearts and smiles on your faces. I was taken completely by surprise, and had to stifle the tears it evoked.

Finally we took off. The team rode together for the first 20 miles, giving me a chance to socialize and take photos (Flickr photoset). One of my favorites is of Sapient alum and Buildium founder and CEO Mike Monteiro riding the first dozen miles in his rubber Crocs, having forgotten to bring his cycling shoes.

When we reached the first rest stop, I took one look at the line for porta-potties and got right back on my bike. I was destined to leave the group behind at some point, because I was the only person who planned to do the 100-mile route rather than the 75, and it made sense to push on now, rather than hang around in line at the rest stop. But as I rode through the far end of the rest stop, my bladder was gladder when I saw another whole row of porta-potties with no lines, no waiting! After a quick pit stop, I took off, picking up speed to ride ahead at my own pace.

Over the next couple segments I paid the price for having ridden slowly with the rest of the Buildium team. I skipped the second rest stop and sliced my way through packs of hundreds of riders, getting myself up toward the front. Then I saw three team members at the side of the road, fixing a flat. While I stopped to make sure they were all set, I watched as hundreds of riders I’d just passed returned the favor. Hoping not to lose too much ground, I set back off again in pursuit.

I pulled into the lunch stop at mile 40, hoping I was ahead of the bunch, and only stayed long enough to eat a bag of chips and fill my water bottle with ice and cola. I saw two Buildium jerseys there, but quickly pressed on.

Between fast riding and brief (or skipped) water stops, I was finally outpacing the main body of the ride. The roads finally opened up a bit for me, to the point where I was often riding alone, with only a couple other riders in sight.

About 50 miles in, near the point where the 100-mile ride forked off from the 75, I finally recognized one of the roads we were on. For most of the morning, we’d taken a much more coastal route than the more-familiar Outriders ride, which goes inland quite a ways. The route had been interesting, although the crowds hadn’t given me much opportunity to sightsee as we passed through unfamiliar towns like Cohasset, Hingham, and Marshfield.

As I passed (and skipped) another water stop, the road I was on ended in a T. Both the Outriders ride and the 75-mile route went left toward Plymouth, while the 100 turned right, adding an extra 25 miles of new and unknown roads. Those back roads circled around through cranberry bogs and into the sandy woods of the Myles Standish State Forest before popping back out for a short stretch on a familiar favorite, Long Pond Road.

On that extra 25-mile spur, I stopped to refill at the 60-mile water stop in Middleboro, but skipped the next one at mile 74. At mile 82 the routes merged back together again at another rest stop. As I rolled up, I heard someone exclaim that there were just 16 miles left of the ride, and I still had a full bottle, so I decided to just push on, skipping both remaining stops.

Although I’d been riding fairly strong up until that point, I was starting to tire and lose power, and a stiff headwind kicked up in advance of the evening storm. As I plodded my way into Bourne, I passed the scene of an accident, with police attending to a rider lying on his back in the middle of the road. Fortunately, I later learned he was okay.

Just a couple miles later I turned onto Academy Road for the familiar approach into Mass Maritime Academy, where the PMC also overnights. I rode across the line at 1:58pm, having ridden 102 miles in a surprising 6 hours 11 minutes. I checked in and picked up my event tee shirt and finisher’s medal. And in a riding sense, that was the end of my first MS Ride.

Originally, between my company beach day and Outriders and the Cape Cod Getaway, I had been targeting riding over 400 miles in eight days. However, with Sunday’s 75-mile ride to Provincetown cancelled, I wound up with only 350, which isn’t that stellar an achievement; after all, I did 300 miles in three days for last year’s PMC!

More importantly, after spending time in Provincetown after Outriders, I wasn’t going to get back there again after all. A week earlier, I’d said some tentative farewells to Provincetown, and it seemed like those would be my final goodbyes. “P-town” and the ride up Cape Cod are among the things I will miss most about New England when I move.

Having arrived at MMA, I tried to follow my tried-and-true PMC arrival ritual: pick up my bag, shower, and find the massage tent. The bag was easy. The shower was a little more difficult because I first had to find my room in the maze of MMA dorms, but I eventually found the right undifferentiated passageway and the nearest men’s room. The showers were hot and semi-private, and very welcome.

The next order of business was finding the Buildium team tent, which didn’t take long. There were a couple riders there from our investors, but I was the first employee to arrive, and with four idle masseuses, I stepped up and took a well-earned turn on the table.

Then there was some food and socializing, but it was a good two hours before any other teammates arrived. After canceling Sunday’s ride, the organizers had allowed people to ride the 100-mile route even if they’d only signed up for the 75, and a large number of Buildians took advantage of that offer, most of them doing the first century of their lives. I was really proud and impressed with them, and glad to see them finish the day smiling.

By 8:30pm, the promised sprinkles began, the party started getting sloppy, and I chose to go back to the dorm to get a head start on sleep. As usual in the dorm, sleep was a rare commodity. I don’t think I got more than a couple hours of it before loudspeakers started barking instructions at 5am Sunday morning about gathering bicycles on trucks bound for Boston.

I went down to the cafeteria and discovered that some of our team had already hopped buses north, so apparently it was every man for himself. I went back to the room and packed up, then met up with Tora on her way out.

We went straight to the buses waiting outside, but despite having an umbrella, I wound up soaked to the bone by a wind-blown deluge. The wind gusted up to 57 mph, and we set records for rainfall and the lowest high temperature for that date. As we waited for the bus to leave, our company president, Dimitris, dragged himself on board. So much for his advice the night before of sleeping in late and gathering as a team!

After an hour on the bus, I was discharged into the UMass Boston parking lot where we’d started. Thankfully, I immediately spotted my bike and got ready to ride home. Needless to say, I had to fight the rain and the wind all four miles back to my condo, and left large puddles marking my route from the building’s entryway to my unit.

But by 8am I was standing in my bathtub, stripping off my sopping-wet jeans and tee shirt. At least I had the rest of the day to warm up, dry off, and recover from my first MS Ride!

Here’s the Strava GPS log, and here’s my Flickr photoset.

So that’s the story; what about the summary?

Overall, it was a good experience. I’m really proud and impressed by the company, which fielded a team of sixty riders, many of whom rode their first centuries, and who raised about $83,000 this year, making us the fifth largest fundraising team in the event.

The ride itself was nice, and I enjoyed doing a route that covered a lot of new ground. Of course, I’m very disappointed to have missed what was probably my last opportunity to ride up the cape to Provincetown, but canceling Sunday’s ride was definitely the right decision.

Naturally, there are big differences between the MS Ride and the PMC, starting with a fundraising minimum of $500, rather than $5,000, which relieved me of the PMC’s huge fundraising effort.

Starting in Boston allowed me to ride to the start, rather than having to get a hotel out in Sturbridge. Giving each team its own little tent—and its own masseuses!—was different, and seemed to work well. And I have to admit that I’ve always been disappointed that the PMC doesn’t give out any kind of finisher’s medals.

But the biggest difference was that this was the first charity ride I’ve ever done as part of a team, rather than as an individual. Rolling out as a group was cool, as was riding together (at least as far as the first water stop). Seeing other riders along the route wearing our team kit gave one an instant icebreaker. And I was guaranteed to have a big group of friends to hang out with at the finish. Those all made this ride a very different experience from my 14 years as a solo PMC rider.

So overall, despite losing Sunday to a monsoon, I really enjoyed doing the ride, and—for the first time—sharing it with so many of my friends and co-workers.

Follow this link for my full 2014 Pan-Mass Challenge ride report, including writeup, photos, and GPS logs.

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.

It’s May, so things have started happening.

A week ago Sunday I did the full/long Quad Cycles ride for the first time this year, rather than bailing at Northside (Gammy’s) in Bedford. It only added 10 miles to my day, but it was my first 75-mile day of the year. It being May, I returned home with eyes that were absolutely encrusted with pollen.

While standing at our lunch stop at Ferns in Carlisle, we ran into Billy Starr, the founder of the Pan-Mass Challenge. We exchanged a few words, and he encouraged us to see if we could flush out any more riders for this year’s event. So if you’re on the fence this year, please sign up. There’s many options as far as length and fundraising commitment, and the classic Sturbridge to Provincetown route is still open!

Last Monday I went to the official Bay State Bike Week kickoff ride and press conference. The ride was a bit silly—just from City Hall to Columbus Park, about as far as you could throw a baseball—but the press conference was a bit interesting.

In the photo at right you get to see Mayor Menino (speaking), Mass Highway Commissioner Luisa Paiewonsky behind his shoulder, next to Boston Bike Program Director and former racer Nicole Freedman, lifelong bike advocate Doug Mink in the back, and MassBike director David Watson at right.

Apparently the Metro newspaper also carried a photo of the event that included me! I haven’t seen it yet (I hope to get a copy), but it must be a prominent and recognizable likeness, because both a former coworker and a fellow Quad Cycles rider both commented on it to me.

Amazingly, as I biked back from the press conference, I stopped in a line of traffic at a red light at Commercial/Causeway/No Washington. What’s that on my left? A spuddy-van Zipcar all painted up in 2009 Pan-Mass jersey colors! Last year Zipcar Saran-Wrapped a van in PMC colors, and apparently they did so again this year. Quick like bull I whipped out the camera and took the accompanying snap.

The amusing bit is that about fifteen minutes after I got home, David Hellman, the PMC’s Director of Operations, tweeted the following: http://twitpic.com/4ziqi Zip Car is doing it again in 2009 for the PMC http://twitpic.com/4zish zipcar.com/pmc

Then Wednesday was such a beautiful day that I decided to go even longer, making it my first (100 mile) century ride of the year, something I’m not usually ready for until June or July. And I cranked through it, too, finishing in seven hours clock time, which includes a 30-minute ice cream stop at Kimball’s. I got through it with relatively few complaints, although both my knees and leg muscles required some time to recover.

And yesterday I did the Quad ride, which did 62 miles, giving me a day’s total of 77 miles, although I took it very easy after Wednesday’s stressor. The ride featured a return to stopping at Kimball’s for ice cream. Although a group of over 50 riders began the ride, by Kimball’s it was down to four: Bobby, Paul, Michael, and I. Bobby wanted a reprise of his photo feeding Buff the Powerbar-Eating Goat, so I took care of that for him. Another good day in the saddle.

As I indicated, this is also Bay State Bike Week. They have a mileage challenge this year, and I pledged 150 miles and rode 184, between the kickoff “ride”, the solo century, and yesterday’s Quad ride.

And I’ve just completed editing my first video fundraising appeal for my Pan-Mass Challenge ride. It’ll be up and announced shortly, as I kick off this year’s fundraising drive. I hope it goes over well!

Yesterday was quite an interesting day for me, so I thought I’d share.

Having already put 125 miles in this weekend, I decided that my goals for the day would be some hill climbing and a bit of exploring new routes.

After riding out to Alewife, I began my first exploration. Instead of taking the exceedingly popular Minuteman Bikeway, I turned off and took the less well-known Fitchburg Cutoff, a short stone dust path that runs parallel to the commuter rail line, from Alewife to Belmont Center. The path has been narrowed by encroaching vegetation, but it’s quite passable if you’re not focused on speed.

As I approached the end of the path, up ahead where it intersects with Brighton Street I saw three cyclists go by: one with a red, white, and blue helmet, and two others in blue and green Quad Cycles jerseys. I caught up with them and verified that the leader was indeed Bobby Mac, the guy who leads the Quad Cycles weekend training rides that I often take part in. That was really surprising, because I‘ve never known Bobby to ride in Belmont, and being there at just the right time—midday on a Wednesday—is just ludicrously improbable. We chatted for a bit, and I followed them back to the store, where I peeled off.

That was convenient for my interest in hill climbing, because Quad Cycles is right at the foot of one of the best climbs in the area: a 380-foot hill with an MWRA water tower on top. So I rode my usual route up Park Ave. to the top.

But I wasn’t through exploring. There are many roads that ascend that hill, but I’d only ever done two of them. So the next thing I did was try coming up the other side of Park Ave., from Belmont. Unfortunately, that side of the hill wasn’t much of a challenge, and the road was busy and in poor condition, so that’s been permanently taken out of consideration.

Then I went down Eastern Ave., which turns into Spring Street. My friend Jeremy had said that was a better challenge than Park Ave., and he was indeed right. At just shy of a mile, it’s the longest side of the hill, and because it starts at a lower elevation than the other roads—just 85 feet above sea level—it also sports the most altitude gain.

I was timing myself on each ascent I did, but I’d gotten no more than a quarter of the way up Spring Street when my cell phone rang. I pulled aside, turned off the stopwatch, and talked to my friend iniren for about 15 minutes. As I did, I saw a woman cyclist ride down the hill, and climb back up past me. She was wearing last year’s Pan-Mass Challenge jersey, the one with the Boston Red Sox motif; amusingly, it was the same one I had on at the time, and I waved and gave her a thumbs-up as she passed me.

After iniren hung up, I went back down Spring Street (seeing that PMC rider climbing the hill a second time), reset my stopwatch, and began a second ascent. But only six minutes after I hung up with iniren, as I was about a third of the way up Spring Street, my cell phone rang again! This time it was a consulting company I’d been interviewing at, calling to let me know that they were turning me down. That certainly didn’t help my mood any.

Then it was back down once more, for a third attempt to climb Spring Street. This time I made it to the top. It’s quite a climb, a great discovery, and is now one of my two preferred routes up that hill. If you’re familiar with Route 2, Spring Street parallels the long hill that climbs through Arlington and Belmont.

From there, I decided to explore yet another route. I’d recently seen an article about a Boston bike courier who used Oakland Ave. to train on. As Oakland goes over the hill, I first tried the west approach, but that, like the south approach of Park Ave., is barely a hill at all. Then I went down Oakland’s east approach, which is a bit of a hill, but it’s neither as long as Spring Street’s ascent, nor as steep as School Street.

Oakland did, however, dump me off near the foot of School Street, which is my other favorite approach. While Spring Street may be the longest climb and have the most elevation gain, School Street (which turns into Kenilworth Road) is by far the steepest and most monotonic grade. It’s death on a stick; that’s why I like it so well. So I timed myself going up School Street, as well.

After that, I made two more trips down and up Spring Street again. As I climbed one time, I again saw that woman cyclist. Judging by the number of times I saw her going up and down Spring Street, I became convinced that she’s a machine—probably one of those Fembots used by the villains in the Austin Powers movies. Though on one trip up, I did pass her as she stood at the side of the road, fuming at her chain which she said unshipped every time at that point on the hill.

By then I’d put in about six trips up that hill, and added about 20 miles to my weekly total, so I decided to head home. I took the Fitchburg Cutoff again on the way home, but had some difficulty approaching it via Channing Road, because the commercial landowners had fenced off the connecting property.

Once home, I had a couple surprises in the mail. One was a PMC donation from one of my aunts, and every donation is worth celebrating these days! The other was the pack of ten “LiveStrong” bracelets that I’d ordered from the Lance Armstrong Foundation. I figure that, as a symbol of support for cancer victims, it’d be a good thing to wear during my PMC ride, but I can also wear one every day in the hopes that someone might either recognize it or ask about it, giving me an opening for talking about my PMC ride and potentially gaining another sponsor for my ride.

Oh, and in writing this article, I also discovered that John Hirtle has put his most recent shots up on the Quad Cycles photo page. He takes snapshots during the weekend rides, and he got a pretty good solo photo of me on June 20th at Concord’s historic Old North Bridge, which is one of our rest stops. A cropped version of the photo illustrates this journal entry, and the original can be seen as picture #9 on this page.