Orny's Cycling Journal

From start to finish, 2018 was a disappointment.

After the extreme effort to conquer the 2017 Dirty Dozen (blogpost) and my 250,000-foot climbing goal (blogpost), I fell into an enduring malaise and lack of motivation that lasted all of 2018. On top of that, three long trips—smack in the middle of training season—ensured I couldn’t get back into proper form in the spring.

A wet, grim start to Escape to the Lake Day 2

As if that weren’t enough, 2018 was Pittsburgh’s wettest year in recorded history, washing out even more of my training. In July, when my travel was done, I struggled through my remaining four big events, eventually riding myself back into fitness just in time for the season to end.

If we only count outdoor road riding, I rode only 2,776 miles: my lowest total in five years (if we exclude the intentionally light year of my move from Boston to Pittsburgh). And it was by far the least amount of climbing I’ve done since the move. Though if we count the 486 virtual miles I did on the indoor trainer, my annual total rises to a more respectable 3,262: still 20 percent less than I rode in 2017.

2018 wasn’t entirely bad—there were a few minor highlights—but all told, it was a miserable year.

My Original 2018 Goals

I really didn’t have any cycling goals for 2018. In 2017 I had checked off everything I’d aspired to do in Pittsburgh, leaving nothing specific to reach for.

The only item I mentioned at the end of last year’s summary (blogpost) was a planned trip to Tuscany, where I hoped to enjoy some long European riding and even catch a stage of the Giro d’Italia elite cycling race. However, it rained the entire time, allowing only 80km of wet, uncomfortable riding; and I abandoned my Giro date due to a scheduling conflict (blogpost).

My rental Bianchi at our Tuscan villa

Morning light on the Pedal the Lakes century

Tag-o-Rama pickup on Lemon Way, Downtown

Orny descending a mountain in Zwift's Watopia

Dirty Dozen rider Jeremiah climbing Eleanor St. on a bikeshare

My 2018 cycling calendar

The Centuries

Another way I judge a year is how many 100-mile rides I complete; therefore, this year I’ve introduced this separate section to enumerate them.

In 2018, despite the weather, my travel, and lack of motivation, I matched 2017’s total of six centuries. I suffered more than usual on these long rides, either due to insufficient preparation or increasing age.

The first century was easy: a slow amble up the Montour Trail with friends De’Anna and Bill, which I spontaneously extended with a solo jaunt to Monongahela and back. But it was so unnoteworthy that it earned only passing mention in my entry for the second century of the year, which was…

The annual Escape to the Lake MS Ride (blogpost) was soggy and sloggy, with rain both days, compounded by an unannounced (and poorly signed) detour and relocated rest stop.

I made a road trip to Akron for my second Absolutely Beautiful Country ride (blogpost). Despite a flat course, it was still a sufferfest. After accidentally bringing only two right gloves, I rode bare-handed all day, which produced a painfully memorable sunburn.

August began with the always-difficult Every Neighborhood Ride (blogpost). This year I had to stop for a vicious cramp halfway up Forbes Avenue. After recuperating and cooling off at the Squirrel Hill rest stop, I fell back and finished the ride with the slow group.

Pedal PGH (blogpost) was as chaotic as usual. Extending the metric to a full century proved costly, as I needed breaks to let the legs recover while recuperating from the heat.

A week later, I drove up to Mercer County for my final century of the year. Though difficult, Pedal the Lakes (blogpost) was manageable, since I’d finally started coming into form… just in time for the season to end!

Additional Highlights

One 2018 highlight didn’t require much effort: picking up 25 tags in Pittsburgh’s Tag-o-Rama cycling/photography game. That was enough to break into the top ten players (out of 125). (blogpost)

I’ve already mentioned that Pittsburgh set a new all-time record for precipitation in a calendar year, receiving over one and a half times our normal rainfall. The resulting landslides washed away several roads, some of which still haven’t reopened ten months later. Many rides were canceled, including brevets, the Western PA Wheelmen’s spring and fall rallies, the Mon Valley Century, and numerous group rides. I only attended 5 out of 27 Tuesday night Team Decaf rides due to rain, and I bailed halfway through one of those due to a sudden mid-ride rainstorm!

The year was filled with other frustrations, as well. Several of those mentioned below are covered in more detail in a short mid-August blogpost tellingly titled “Yeah, Yeah, Bicycle”.

The local bike “advocacy” group decided to withdraw all support for BikeFest, a two-week cycling celebration it had run for 15 years.

My bike had several mechanical travails, ranging from a still-unresolved creak to a fancy new Di2 mount that promptly broke my Di2 junction box.

I spent $70 to re-stock my supply of powdered Gatorade mix, only to discover they’d changed the formula into an unusable dust that won’t mix with water and tastes just like burnt plastic.

And Strava completely ruined the training charts I relied on, which I’ll speak more of below.

I wasn’t in any shape—or mood—to ride this year’s Dirty Dozen hill climb, but that gave me the opportunity to play event photographer, which might have been more fun than actually riding! (blogpost)

The year’s biggest highlight happened in December, long after the riding season was done: my long-awaited purchase of an indoor smart trainer and membership on the Zwift multiplayer online cycling platform (blogpost). In addition to my first FTP test, I rode as “far” on the trainer in December as I did on the road in any other month in 2018! While it had no impact on the 2018 season, it has helped me get over my season-long malaise and should improve my form next spring.

The Charthouse

As mentioned earlier, Strava changed the math behind their “Fitness & Freshness” chart that I relied on for training and event tapering, and which I incorporated into my annual summaries as a graphical overview of the year.

Their “improved” metrics are completely worthless, but thankfully I’ve been able to recreate the TRIMP charts I relied on them for. Updated versions follow:

This first chart shows my fitness level over the past twelve months, with centuries highlighted.

What you’ll note is an overall saw-tooth pattern, with sudden gains from intense training followed by immediate backslides; i.e. a complete lack of sustained improvement.

You can see the dips during my travel dates: Southeast Asia in the latter half of March, a mini-dip in May during my week in Tuscany, and my meditation retreat in late June.

But even when I was home, each time I gained fitness, it declined again, rather than moving progressively higher. Every upward impulse is followed by a dip back down; I just couldn’t sustain a consistent string of training.

One easily-overlooked but hopeful sign is the upward trend throughout December. That’s the result of my new indoor trainer and Zwift membership. With any luck, I have already begun my positive fitness trend for the start of the 2019 season!

The second chart shows how 2018 compares to previous years. Even though I began the year at a high level, over the summer I never attained the peak fitness of my previous six years. And that pretty neatly summarizes my year.

Goals for 2019

A year ago, I reluctantly set some vague goals for 2018; I’d done all the new rides I wanted to do, and didn’t see any specific challenges to undertake in the new year. In that respect, I’m in the same situation this year.

However, my lackluster 2018 was not a direct consequence of my lack of clearly-identified goals. I blame it all on horrible weather, lots of poorly-timed travel, and the fatigue and demoralization left over from a very demanding 2017.

Fortunately, I’m entering 2019 much fresher, and with no major travel plans. So long as we don’t set any new rainfall records, 2019 is bound to be better than 2018 was.

My primary goal for next year is simply this: to finally get beyond the malaise of 2018, to ride more, and get back to peak fitness this summer.

That’ll be aided by my secondary goal for 2019: spending the winter riding Zwift on the trainer, allowing me to enter the road season at a high level of fitness, and monitoring that by performing regular FTP tests throughout the year.

I needed a major change to shake me out of the funk that lingered over me all year, and Zwift is certainly different. I find myself actually looking forward to riding the indoor trainer and learning how to train more effectively by using its built-in power meter. I’m hopeful it’ll be the key that unlocks both my attitude and my fitness level for the 2019 season.

If I can achieve those two simple goals, I’ll be happy, and it will make possible any specific challenges I target as the year progresses. And so far it looks promising!

There are two kinds of rainy days on the bike. There’s days with passing showers but things dry out quickly; and there’s day-long pouring rain that leaves you no choice but to slog through to the end of the ride.

This year’s Escape to the Lake MS Ride had one day of each kind.

To be fair, it’s been that kind of year. As I wrote in my last post, my week in Tuscany was almost exclusively rainy and cold; and our horrible spring weather was the topic of the post before that.

Rolling thru the second rest stop

A wet, grim start to Day 2

Midway thru a very wet Day 2

After a disappointing week in Italy, I had two weeks to train up (and then taper for) the annual two-day Escape to the Lake MS Ride.

I stumbled into some form by doing a slow ride up the Montour Trail with Pittsburgh Randonneurs Bill and De’Anna, for her last warm-up ride before her first 750-mile event. Understandably, it was a casual ride, but on the way home, I vectored off on my own down Bunola Road, which brought me up to an even hundred miles: my first century of the year. It’s nice to be able to do a century, completely unplanned!

Three days later I did a metric century up Sun Mine and Guys Run, which was pleasant. I had just enough ascending to earn Strava’s May climbing badge, in addition to their gran fondo distance badge. It was the first month that I’ve earned both badges since last August.

A week before the MS Ride, I did the regular moderately-paced Saturday morning group ride out of Performance Bike, but also did their inaugural fast-group ride on Sunday, which was fun. Then, a week before my event, it was time to taper my training.

I hate having to register for events (or reserve hotel rooms) ahead of time. You’re forced to gamble on having good weather, and monitoring the long-range forecast occupies me in the lead-up to any event.

After waiting, I registered for the MS Ride a week before, when the forecast said there’d be a small chance of rain and summerlike temperatures. Over time that changed to likely rain on Saturday and clearing on Sunday morning. We’d be directly beneath a stationary front, which would oscillate north and south all weekend, with disturbances traveling along it.

That was the story Friday night, but on Saturday morning’s forecast shifted most of the rain to Sunday. When riders lined up for the 7am start on the lakefront at Moraine State Park, it was a cool and dry 59°, but heavy overcast with ominous clouds.

The first segment was lots of up and down, and there was a patch of wet, puddle-filled roads where we’d just missed a shower. We got through it without setting soaked, but on one steep hill my slick tires kept trying to slip out on the wet pavement.

As usual, I skipped the first rest stop, which put most of the pack behind me. The crowds thinned out, and a group of a half dozen guys and I passed each other back and forth until the second rest stop, where they pulled off while I rolled on.

Mostly-shootable rolling hills punctuated the third segment. A group of five guys blew past me in a paceline, but those were the only other riders I saw on that entire 13-mile run. There didn’t seem to be as many riders on the road this year, which was probably attributable to the weather forecast.

After the steep ascent into Mercer, I took my first rest of the day. I was ten minutes behind my schedule, but that was fine, because I wanted to conserve my strength, being so under-trained this year.

The soaking-wet roads were reinforced with another round of sprinkles as I rolled along the up-and-down farmlands of the next leg. I arrived at the Sandy Lake lunch stop at 10:20am, still trailing my goal by a few minutes, so I had a quick ham sandwich and carried on.

After the lunch stop, the route follows a major road that carries high-speed traffic. It’s not my favorite part of the ride, but it does end in a ripping downhill to the Cochranton rest stop at mile 65.

But in cycling what goes down must come up, and there are two long, legendary hills leaving town, after which the small number of us on the full 100-mile route vector off on a big loop to add the extra miles.

At mile 77, my GPS told me that I was no longer on the route provided by the ride, so I backtracked a mile to the last intersection to verify the route markings. Okay, I continued, again leaving the GPS route, but after a couple miles with no signage, I stopped and started to call the support number to verify that I was on course. But another rider rode past, so I followed him until more signs appeared. It was probably a short detour, but I was uncomfortable that we weren’t on the route I’d downloaded.

Not long after, we rolled into an unexpected rest stop, where I learned that both the route and the mile 83 rest stop had been moved at the last minute. The town had stripped one of our roads and had planned to resurface it the day before the ride, but had been delayed.

At the ad hoc rest stop, I had to admit my fatigue and accept that I’d have to plod and nurse my way over the last 20 miles. The final rest stop at mile 91 came just before the last big hill, and I took a ten-minute rest there before setting out.

The last segment was a painful challenge, but I made it to the top of the ridge and enjoyed the final 300-foot descent to the finish line at Allegheny College in Meadville.

I arrived at 2:42pm, which was the slowest of my three times doing this ride, but most of that will have been due to added mileage from the detour, combined with my confusion and backtracking along the route. Although there had been sprinkles and some roads were wet, the predicted rain had held off. It was still really cool and overcast, but that had protected us from the summertime sun.

Evening was predictable. I checked in, got my bag, stored my bike, got into my dorm room, showered, and collapsed until suppertime. The food’s always good, and I shoved down a tray full of chicken, rice, pickles, berries, ice cream, and a cola. Afterward, I relaxed and watched a New England Revolution soccer match on my phone.

I also checked the weather. Originally, Sunday was supposed to be clearing and approaching 80°, but the oscillation that had given us a mostly rain-free Saturday was about to reverse. That was verified when, after a fitful night’s sleep, I got up at 5am to steady rain and a gusty breeze. Between the cold, wet weather, an aching back, and an unsettled stomach, I was not looking forward to setting out.

After breakfast, I kitted up with all the gear I’d brought and set off with the rest of the unfortunates at 7am into a heavy, soaking rainstorm. The worst part about riding in the rain is the initial getting wet, because once you’re soaked through, no amount of rain and puddles and road spray is going to make you any wetter. At only 54°, the first segment was just miserable. My only consolation was that I’d only have to ride in it for 65 miles: about four and a half hours.

After skipping the first rest stop, the rain lightened to the point where you could almost convince yourself it was going to stop. But the sprinkles returned throughout the second segment.

At the second rest stop, I gathered strength for the ride’s final noteworthy hill. Continuing through serious farmlands, I distinctly recall the absurdity of passing a group of a dozen girls in simple Amish dress, sitting in three neat rows on what looked to be a small choral riser by a driveway. I weakly waved a greeting and they all called out cheerful hellos. It was absolutely surreal.

After having slackened for a while, the skies opened up again after the final rest stop. However, the ride was almost over, and the final ten miles were mostly downhill. I arrived in Conneaut and rolled down into the lakefront park at 11:26am with no ceremony, but delighted to get out of the rain.

After steady rain and temperatures that never exceeded 57°, I spent no time enjoying the lakefront reception. I grabbed my finisher’s medal, a small square of oregano-laden pizza, and a Dilly Bar. Once the ice cream had disappeared, my only goal was to get warm and dry. So I biked up to the upper parking lot, grabbed my bag, commiserated with other finishers in the changing tent, loaded my bike onto the truck, and hopped on the chartered bus that would bring me back to the start line.

With Inna out of town, I couldn’t repeat what we did last year: staying in Erie and spending a leisurely Monday on a lakefront beach before driving home. Having left my car at the start line in Moraine State Park, the only way back was the bus. That was for the best anyways, because it was terrible beach weather, and I just wanted to go home and dry out.

Obviously, the ride’s salient element was the weather. The ride itself went well enough, and I’m glad to have a second century under my belt for 2018. But the rain and cold temperatures took most of the fun out of the experience. Happy to put the event behind me, I drove 45 minutes back to Pittsburgh, where—lo and behold!—I returned to a very welcome 80° and sunshine!

Sunday I was up dark and early for my first Mon Valley Century ride.

Or rather, to check the radar to see if conditions were too ugly to ride. The forecast had called for day-long rain and thunderstorms as a powerful front rolled through, but at 4:20am the radar didn’t look prohibitive, and the NWS forecast language had moderated slightly.

I really don’t like missing major events on my cycling calendar, so I decided to risk it, packed up my backup bike rather than the good one, and drove down to Monongahela.

There were only a handful of riders at the Noble J. Dick Aquatorium, and after taking a picture of the sunrise over the river, I was the first to set out on the 100-mile route.

The first few miles were very fresh chip-seal, which essentially made it a gravel road. But once that section was done, it was clear sailing on empty country roads for the next 90 minutes. The first two riders caught up with me at the first rest stop, 22 miles in. So far, the weather was fine, and one of the volunteers told us that the radar looked like it would stay clear until noontime: very good news.

Having cut across country, we turned north and followed the Monongahela north, back toward the start. We all missed an intermediate water stop the organizers had moved, but a bunch of us regrouped at 10am at the lunch stop: mile 53 and first loop complete, as we were only a couple miles away from our original start line.

The next hour and a half was spent circling out on a different loop out to the rest stop at mile 72. As I got back on the road, an intermittent sprinkle began to fall, but it wasn’t enough to make things messy. I returned to the start/finish line at 12:30pm with 83 miles done.

Technically, that was the end of the ride, because the organizers had arbitrarily lopped ten miles off the start and end of the route because Bunola River Road was presumably closed.

Knowing better, and wanting to complete a legit century, I decided to ride up Bunola Road to the old start/finish in Elizabeth and back, which would complete the full 100-mile course. While I did that, I endured one good, soaking shower, which passed but left the roads very wet. While I did hear some thunder, it wasn’t the hellfire and brimstone that the forecast had called for, and for the most part it was acceptably refreshing. Nonetheless, I was glad I rode the beater bike instead of my good one.

I completed the full course—my sixth century of the year—at 1:45pm. A seven-and-a-quarter hour century ain’t terrible, especially with 5,000 feet of climbing. I hadn’t pushed myself very hard, and it had been an overall pretty pleasant day out.

Thankfully, it turned out that I’d over-prepared for the weather we got. Although maybe I was just quick enough to escape it. Later that afternoon, a storm dumped over three inches of rain, prompting very real flash flood warnings in several of the towns I’d ridden through. So I’m actually okay with the idea of having over-prepared.

Going through those precautions gives me the opportunity to share some of the ways I prepare for riding in the rain. Hopefully this list will be useful to others—as well as my future self—when facing such conditions.

Let’s start with the most basic truth: NOTHING is going to keep you dry. NOTHING. You ARE going to get SOAKED. Are we clear on that? Okay.

One of my hard-won cycling lessons is that it only takes a cyclist a couple minutes to get soaked to the bone, and once that’s done, you can’t get any more wetter (sic). The damage is already done, so you might as well just keep pedaling and enjoy it!

Having said that, here’s how I prepare for a long, wet, ride in the rain:

• Don’t use your good bike if you can avoid it; instead, ride a beater bike.
• Don’t bother with a rain jacket. Lots of sports apparel companies make incredibly expensive rain jackets specifically for cyclists. The few that actually protect you from the rain also make you sweat so much—and trap it inside the garment—that you would be better off going without. Try to dress for the temperature instead.
• If you expect rain and wet roads, a clip-on fender is great. It’ll prevent the rooster-tail from your rear tire from being flung up into following riders’ faces, and also from being flung up your anus and backside. If you expect sprinkles, an Ass Saver should be sufficient.
• Wear a cycling cap with a brim. That’ll help keep the rain (and spray from other riders) out of your face.
• Another thing that helps with spray is clear lenses for your sunglasses. You absolutely need eye protection under these conditions, but dark lenses impair your visibility. Clear safety glasses can be cheap and effective, but they’re prone to fogging up due to lack of ventilation.
• Certain things must be kept waterproof: your wallet, your phone, and any food you’re carrying. For these, one or two layers of Ziploc bag is ideal. Make sure your cyclocomputer is water-resistant, too.
• Inside that Ziploc, keep a handkerchief too. It’ll be useful for wiping off wet glasses, screens, hands, and so forth.
• If you drove to the ride, keep a full-size bath towel in the car. You can use it to dry off, and to protect the seat on the drive home.
• If you have the opportunity to change, obviously bring a dry set of clothes, and a bag to stuff your wet kit into.
• Give your chain some wet lube, rather than dry lube, before setting out. It won’t perform miracles, but will stick longer. To be honest, you need to worry more about cleanup after the ride than lubing the chain before. After a wet ride, your bike is going to need a major cleaning.
• Lower your tire pressure in the wet by a few PSI. This will enhance your grip on slippery surfaces. Also expect your braking distances to double.
• Bear in mind that drivers have drastically limited visibility in the rain, so carry rear blinky lights, extra batteries (inside that Ziploc), and possibly a (lighted) safety vest. Take responsibility for being seen on the road.
• I almost always wear cycling sandals, and they’re surprisingly effective in the rain. Water flows through them, unlike regular cycling shoes and socks, which absorb water, become heavy, and stay sodden for days.

While riding in the rain isn’t the best experience in the world, hopefully some of those ideas will be helpful.

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

Follow this link for my full 2008 Pan-Mass Challenge ride report, including writeup, photos, and maps.

So I ordered a 2006 Specialized Roubaix Expert Triple from my LBS. It came in last night. I’m very excited about it. You can see a picture of the model here.

Today I would have gone to the bike shop to perform a final “user acceptance test” test ride, except it was pouring out all day. Oddly, looking at WHDH, NWS, and Intellicast, their long-range forecasts all report the same thing: it will be unseasonably cold and there will be heavy rain nine out of the next ten days.

Do you think these two events are coincidental?

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.

Bike Week continued with the Charles River Wheelmen-sponsored "Mean Streets: Boston" ride. This was a short 12-mile ride through some of the city's back streets, alleys, and wharves, but made more challenging by the New England weather. Fifteen minutes before the ride it was clear and sunny; as the ride began, the skies suddenly opened up in a downpour; half an hour later, the sun was out again; half an hour from that, just as the ride was ending, the rain started again, this time accompanied by bursts of howling wind. It was bizarre. Fortunately, it feels like my knees are slowly improving; hopefully they'll be in solid shape before the coming weekend's rides.

Follow this link for my full 2001 Pan-Mass Challenge ride report.

Began a new project at a client site on Totten Pond in Waltham, a 15-mile ride from home. Began using the daily commute as the motivator to increase my training miles from my winter average of 50 miles per week up to more than twice what I'd been doing. Today was made a more challenging ride because in three places the bike path was beneath the surface of the rain-flooded Charles River!