I was 35 years old when I started my adult cycling career. In those early years, my rapidly-growing cycling fitness more than compensated for any loss of overall fitness that came as I aged.

As the years passed, my cycling fitness reached a stable plateau, while the effects of aging slowly but consistently gained momentum. But I wasn’t worried; throughout my forties I could easily keep up with riders ten years younger.

But when I turned 50, I noticed it took increasingly more effort to keep up with the kids. And now that I’m 60 years old, I have to admit that I’m simply not keeping up with them anymore, and never will again, no matter how hard I train.

So in case you’re on that same career path, here’s a few observations about my experience as an aging cyclist.

It’s easiest to see in the numbers. It wasn’t as linear as the “220 minus age” formula implies, but my max heart rate has dropped significantly over the past 15 years, from 175+ down to 160. And the inevitable loss of muscle mass has been reflected in my FTP and other measurements of power output like sprinting duration and max power.

The media always invokes the idea that we need more recovery time after hard efforts as we age. For me, that manifests mostly in my ability to do repeated bursts of high-intensity effort within a ride. I don’t feel I need more recovery time between rides; if I need more time for anything after a hard ride, it’s for my motivation to recover! And of course the standard prescription for maintaining fitness as we age is to continue doing severely painful intensity workouts. Ugh!

One generalization I can confirm is that as I’ve aged, my sleep cycle has become shorter and less refreshing. Gotta start embracing the nap, although they’ve always left me feeling nauseous afterward.

Another change is that I’m less willing to tolerate bad weather. I’m good with heat, but I’m kind of done thinking that riding in the cold is any fun. Doubly so for rain, and the annoying cleanup routine that follows a wet ride. Yes, it can be done; no, I don’t think it’s worth it anymore.

But once you’re out on the road on a nice day, what does riding “over the hill” feel like? It feels like having one of those days where you’re not performing at your best… every single day! Whether it’s heavy legs or lack of aerobic fitness, it always feels as if there’s something limiting me. There aren’t many of those strong days when you’re at peak fitness and everything comes effortlessly.

Instead of looking forward to hills as a place to attack your group, you begin to fear them as places where you’ll fall behind the group. And they drop you more frequently on those climbs… and on the flats… and on descents. You still participate in group rides, but you wind up isolated and riding by yourself much of the time.

You get discouraged on group rides, because you’re the last person to each rest stop, which means you always get the least rest before the group sets out again, despite being the person who needs recovery the most. So you give up on the group and spend more time doing solo rides.

That’s what it’s like. I’ve had an undeniable drop-off in physiological performance due to aging. But at the same time, psychologically I’m just less willing to tolerate the suffering inherent in high-intensity, maximal efforts. To keep up with other riders, I have to spend more and more of my time riding at my limit, and it’s harder and harder to marshal the motivation to spend long hours riding at that limit.

While I was slowly getting older, I spent 25 amazing years near the front of the pack. Now that I’m 60 years old, that’s simply no longer a possibility. It’s time to set ego aside and get used to being one of the slower riders that other people have to wait for. It’s either that, or ride solo, which is something I’ve always done quite a lot of.

While I may not be the strongest cyclist in the pack any more, I still have the advantage of being significantly healthier than my sedentary age-group peers. And I still have as much passion for cycling as I’ve ever had. The bottom line is that I need to accept my reduced capabilities, adjust my goals to match them, find groups that will tolerate them, and just ride on.

May the road before you be a long, enjoyable one!

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!

In contrast with a miserable 2018, 2019 was a complete renewal: possibly my best remaining year on the bike, and arguably the best of my entire lifetime.

MS Escape to the Lake Finisher

MS Escape to the Lake Finisher

Indoor Training on Zwift

Indoor Training on Zwift

MS Escape to the Lake

MS Escape to the Lake

Brilliant Physical Health!

I’m in Brilliant Physical Health!

PedalPGH Pittsburgh Overlook

PedalPGH Pittsburgh Overlook

The Herd's Leelanau Harvest Tour

The Herd's Leelanau Harvest Tour

Akron Bike Club's ABC Ride

Akron Bike Club's ABC Ride

My 2019 Cycling Calendar

My 2019 Cycling Calendar

While it lacked crowning moments like the Pan-Mass Challenge or the Dirty Dozen, I set dramatic new high water marks for miles ridden, century rides completed, and level of fitness.

Beyond the numbers, though, was how easy it felt. After my first winter using a smart trainer and Zwift, I began the season already near peak form. It was such a different feeling, without the usual early-season suffering to build fitness, and I went into every major event strong, confident, and at ease.

It made setting and chasing my cycling goals an unblemished pleasure, making 2019 a complete reversal of my disappointment in 2018. It was an absolutely stellar year!

My Original 2019 Goals

Let’s review my 2019 season goals. A year ago, I set three secondary and three primary ones.

My secondary goals laid the groundwork for achieving my primary goals.

My secondary goals 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.”
Spending the winter riding Zwift on the trainer

I really enjoyed Zwift, as described in my summary blogpost. The virtual world was entertaining, the smart trainer changing resistance to simulate climbing kept it interesting, and the social interaction through Discord audio chat was engaging. From December through the spring, I tallied an unprecedented 2,600 simulated miles on the trainer.

Allowing me to enter the road season at a high level of fitness

I monitored my training using my usual fitness charts, which you’ll see shortly. I made steady progress throughout the winter, but would it improve my outdoor riding?

The big test of Zwift’s effectiveness came on April 14th, when one of my first outdoor rides of the year was a 125-mile 200k brevet. It went fabulously, as described in my blogpost.

Performing regular FTP tests throughout the year.

Since my indoor trainer includes a power meter, I can gauge my fitness with a new metric: functional threshold power (FTP). I took two different FTP tests every three months to monitor and quantify my progress, plus automatic FTP increases detected by Zwift while riding. Depending on how you measure it, my FTP varied from 197 to 234 watts, averaging 215W.

That set me up for success reaching my main goals for the year.

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

Although the turnaround started with my new indoor trainer and Zwift membership, several other factors helped rekindle my desire to ride. Bypassing the usual springtime pain of riding my way into fitness certainly helped. I also lost less time to traveling. And after suffering through 2018 being the rainiest year in Pittsburgh’s history, all of this year’s major rides had gorgeous conditions (despite 2019 being our third wettest year ever). And by staying on top of my fitness and fatigue levels, I avoided overtraining, which can also sap motivation.

Ride more

In 2019 I rode 3,400 miles, which is more than I average, and 625 more than I rode in 2018. So you can check that goal off.

But that’s only 52% of the story... The other 48% are the virtual miles I put in on the trainer. In my first full calendar year on Zwift, I logged an additional 3,182 indoor miles.

My combined total was 6,582 miles, which constitutes an all-time record for me. Ride more? Double check!

Get back to peak fitness

All that indoor and outdoor riding ensured that I got back to peak fitness. I was in the best form of my life, which I’ll quantify in the two charts in the following section.

Charts

These charts provide the next level of detail about my year, plotting my Chronic Training Load (CTL), which is a measurement of cycling fitness. The charts really tell the story for 2019.

Before addressing 2019 in detail, it’s worth looking at my fitness over the past nine years, which allows me to visually compare 2019 to previous seasons.

2011-2019 Fitness Chart

At a high level, four major themes jump out of this chart:

  • I was much fitter than usual earlier in the year
  • My training was much more consistent in 2019
  • I peaked higher, reaching new record levels of fitness
  • I spent a much longer duration at peak form.

If you compare 2019 to 2018, it’s obvious that 2018 was a substandard year, and that 2019 was an immense improvement. My max fitness in 2018 was 66.3; in 2019 I spent six and a half months above that level, peaking in June at 94.3! And looking forward, I’ll begin January 2020 with a CTL of 79: higher than I ever reached in all of 2018!

A little further back, my previous all-time max fitness levels occurred briefly in 2016 and 2017 around 82.5 (follow the horizontal grey line on the chart). In 2019 I spent more than four months above that level!

In other words, it was a record-smashing year. Now let’s zoom in and take a closer look at 2019.

2019 Fitness Chart

First, note that grey line inside the chart. That’s my average fitness level from 2011-2018. Thanks to my winter training, I entered 2019 way above my usual fitness, and surpassed my typical midsummer peak form by the middle of February! And my fitness remained above average over the entire year.

Another big difference from last year is my consistency. In 2018, I couldn’t ride regularly, so its chart had lots of ups and downs. This year was steadier, only showing brief dips (for travel) in March and July, followed by that big dip in October, when travel, an achilles injury, and a cold kept me off the bike. I hopped back onto Zwift in November to build fitness for the 2020 season.

These two charts document a ton of hard riding; I could stare at them all day long.

And those green circles on the chart? Those represent my 100-plus-mile rides. That’s the next level of detail to talk about…

The Centuries

When asked what kind of cyclist I am, I say I’m a centurion. The most important and memorable target events of my year are centuries (100 miles) and 200ks (125 miles).

This year I demolished my previous mark (nine), logging no less than a record-shattering thirteen centuries over just six months! Two of those were longer 200ks, and one was my first-ever virtual century on an indoor trainer.

With seven of them crammed into an eight-week period in July and August, I relied on a well-planned, repeating pattern of: train, taper, ride your event, recover, and repeat.

My biggest disappointment of the year was that I missed Pittsburgh’s arduous Every Neighborhood Ride while doing another ride I’d already committed to.

Here’s my full list of centuries with comments and links to ride reports. Or you could watch my late-season summary video.

  • First Zentury (4/7)
    I extended one of Zwift’s 64-mile gran fondo events to complete my first-ever imperial century on an indoor trainer.
  • Sandy Lake 200k (4/13)
    Nearly my first outdoor ride was a 125-mile brevet: my longest ride in two years, confirming the effectiveness of indoor training.
  • Shades of Death solo (5/23)
    Rode a solo century from Pittsburgh to the West Virginia border to explore the Panhandle Trail and Shades of Death Road!
  • Escape to the Lake (6/8)
    Incomparable weather for the annual MS ride to Lake Erie, my only two-day event of the year.
  • PMTCC 3-State Tour (6/30)
    A foggy start gave way to a warm day for a familiar PMTCC ride to West Virginia and Ohio, with a thankfully modified route.
  • Absolutely Beautiful Country (7/14)
    Off to Akron OH for a club ride whose flat route was also altered this year, outrageously omitting the usual free ice cream rest stop!
  • Meanville Greenville 200k (7/27)
    Returned from a week of travel and dove straight into another long 200k brevet with the Pittsburgh Randonneurs.
  • Butler solo (8/4)
    Extended one of my long solo rides up Sun Mine Road, through Saxonburg to Butler and back.
  • Mon Valley Century (8/11)
    Enjoyed the return of an event that hasn’t been run since 2016 due to landslides; a third ride with a modified route (and poor support).
  • Four Rivers solo (8/19)
    My interwebs were down for 48 hours, so I went out and rode an easy solo century along Pittsburgh’s four rivers.
  • PedalPGH (8/25)
    As usual, I extended the PedalPGH metric to a full century, despite riding on an injured achilles and more ride organizer negligence.
  • Pedal the Lakes (8/31)
    Ended summer with a speedy and enjoyable PtL ride, completing 6 centuries in 6 weeks, and 8 in 10 weeks.
  • The Herd @ Leelanau Harvest Tour (9/14)
    The culmination of my season was a weekend trip to northwestern Michigan for an international gathering of Zwifters… and a scenic century alongside Lake Michigan.

Additional Highlights

One major development was my ability to train with a power meter, which allowed me—for the first time—to track my functional threshold power (FTP) and my power curve, which in turn helped me figure out my cycling “phenotype” as described in this blogpost. I also picked up and made good use of the defining treatise on the discipline: Allen & Coggan’s book “Training + Racing With a Power Meter”.

The biggest setback of the year was my late-August achilles injury, due to a combination of overuse and over-stretching. Although I completed three centuries while injured, it wouldn’t heal without time off the bike, which brought my season to an abrupt end. I’d hoped to do more easy autumnal riding, but there was very little of that.

I’ve already alluded to this year’s weather, which was simply amazing.

One fun tech project was creating the AlpenTimer, a Javascript webapp that helps you monitor and predict your pace up the Alpe du Zwift climb in order to earn the sub-60 minute achievement, break your own personal record, or just track your historical performance.

An artsy project was cutting hand-shapes out of Coroplast and spray-painting them cyan to mimic the blue “Ride On!” thumbs-up symbol that appears in Zwift’s virtual world. I hung a large one from the ceiling of my “pain cave”, and made a bunch of small ones for my jersey pockets.

One final disappointment was BikePGH’s Tag-o-Rama cycling/photography game. Regular participant Yale Cohen started harassing other players, driving many of them away. I don’t tolerate online abuse, so despite picking up 25 tags in 2018, I also quit Tag-o-Rama this spring.

Noteworthy Purchases

In the past, many of my “Additional Highlights” were things I bought, so I’ve carved out a new section to specifically highlight my new toys.

Most of this year’s purchases were on-bike equipment. A new Giro Aether MIPS helmet. New Prizm Road lenses for my Oakley Half-Jac sunglasses. A couple pairs of my favorite Craft Hale Glow bib shorts.

I ordered three new cycling jerseys, each of which comes with a unique story. I’m eager to show them off, but I'm still awaiting delivery of the last one, so I won’t say any more until an upcoming blogpost.

In terms of the bike, I got a Cygolite Hotshot 150 taillight, which crapped out after its first wet ride. I finally tested some Continental GP4000 tires I’ve had lying around; they were okay, but now I have to try their new GP5000s to see if they’re any improvement over my usual Michelin Power Endurance rubber.

I updated my Garmin bike computer with two new apps. I’m using Heart Rate Stress Score to replace Strava’s “suffer score” app, which became worthless when they changed its calculation. And I tried Multi-Page Race Notes for handy course notes, but fell back to old-school white electrical tape on my top tube.

The only noteworthy purchase that didn’t go on me or my bike was the aforementioned Allen & Coggan bookTraining + Racing With a Power Meter”.

List of Blogposts

And one final item before I look forward to 2020... It was a busy year here on ornoth-cycling.livejournal.com, with 24 ride reports and blogposts. Here’s the full list:

My 2020 Vision

That’s all she (he) wrote for 2019… What’s my outlook for the coming 2020 cycling year?

I don’t really expect to surpass my 2019 season, due to this year's confluence of circumstances. Will 2020 also feature great weather, limited travel, no job commitment, and an understanding partner who will loan me her car to get to distant rides? And can I continue to evade the growing concerns of age and health?

I’ll certainly continue Zwifting through the early season in order to hit the ground running once temperatures start to warm again. And I’m starting the new year at an even higher fitness level than 2019!

I’ll mostly target the same events I do every year, but there’s one known wrinkle in next year’s schedule. Instead of repeating the Leelanau Harvest Tour, next year’s Herd gathering will be outside Toronto, at the Epic Tour. That’s geographically convenient, and their 180km route will be the perfect distance for a September ride.

Other than that, 2020 will probably look an awful lot like 2019, and I have no problem with that whatsoever, since 2019 was one of my best years on the bike.

Bring it on!

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

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

My rental Bianchi at our Tuscan villa

Morning light on the Pedal the Lakes century

Morning light on the Pedal the Lakes century

Tag-o-Rama pickup on Lemon Way, Downtown

Tag-o-Rama pickup on Lemon Way, Downtown

Orny descending a mountain in Zwift's Watopia

Orny descending a mountain in Zwift's Watopia

Dirty Dozen rider Jeremiah climbing Eleanor Street on a bikeshare tank

Dirty Dozen rider Jeremiah climbing Eleanor St. on a bikeshare

My 2018 cycling calendar

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:

2018 TRIMP fitness chart

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!

2011-2018 TRIMP fitness chart

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 on Day 1

Rolling thru the second rest stop

A wet, grim start to Day 2

A wet, grim start to Day 2

Midway thru a very wet 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!

A week at a Tuscan villa is a cyclist’s dream vacation: scenic rolling hills, sunny Mediterranean weather, and—in May—the chance to visit the Giro d’Italia, one of the three European Grand Tours at the elite level of professional cycling. When the opportunity arose, I leapt at the chance.

Although the trip was ostensibly to join Inna and her kin for a family reunion, cycling was my main motivation and goal. Since this is my cycling blog, that’s the scope of this post; you can read about the non-cycling aspects in my overall trip blogpost on my main blog.

Rental Bianchi

My rental Bianchi at our villa

While the countryside was amazing, my rental bike, the weather, and my schedule all fell short of my aspirations and expectations, so I came home disappointed. Here are the details that add up to my overall underwhelming experience.

After arriving at our attractive villa late Saturday night, on Monday I drove to the Chianti Bike shop in the nearby village of Falciani. The proprietor claimed to have not received the email I’d sent requesting a week-long rental, but he spoke enough English that we communicated, and he set me up with a serviceable Bianchi Infinito.

Although Google Maps routed me along the intriguingly-named Via Ho Chi Minh in Impruneta, I drove home safely and added the various accoutrements I’d brought from home to the bike, such as my saddle bag, GPS cyclo-computer, and so forth.

The weather was cold and cloudy, with isolated rain, but between showers I set out for a quick six-mile shakedown cruise: from our villa in the village of Mezzomonte (Italian for “Half a Mountain”) down to the bottom of our ridge, then up and down another hill before climbing back up to our villa from the opposite direction I’d descended.

Having Campagnolo shifters, which work differently than my Shimano ones, the bike took a bit of getting used to. But that was nothing compared to the non-compact gearing. Whereas I’m used to riding with a lowest gear of 34x28 (32 gear-inches), the rental only went down to 39x25 (41 gear-inches). In real terms, that means its easiest gear was 28 percent harder than what I’m used to. It’s as if you took my regular bike and removed the two easiest gears.

That wouldn’t be a problem on flat terrain, but Tuscany (much like Pittsburgh) is full of short, stupidly steep hills. After a screaming, swooping descent down off our high ridge toward the town of Grassina, I made a side turn onto the little hill I wanted to climb, up to a hilltop church. With no gears sufficient for the ascent, I had to stop along the way to let my legs recover; and I never stop on climbs (thanks to the miracle of modern gearing)!

After topping that climb, flying back down to the valley, and dragging myself back up the ridge to our villa, I’d climbed over 1,000 feet in less than six miles, and was really feeling the effort, especially in the right calf I’d injured last month. Between the stupid hills and the cold, wet weather, I was already wondering who in their right mind would call Tuscany a cycling paradise!

The weather remained cold and unsettled Tuesday, and I stayed at the villa because Inna had stayed home that day, rather than sightseeing.

Wednesday morning I woke to yet more rain. Still, having spent $200 to rent a bike, I set out between storms on what looked like a simple 20-mile route downloaded from Chianti Bike’s website.

Having driven it a couple times, the road from the villa to the nearest town of Impruneta was becoming familiar, but once there, the shape of the ride became decidedly pear-esque. At first, I missed a side turn and went off track; but after backtracking, I discovered that the official route took me the wrong way up a one-way street, before it later simply rejoined the main street I’d already wrong-turned onto! That’s dumb.

Crossing the Greve

Crossing the Greve

Il Ferrone Detour

Il Ferrone Detour

As I hit a short descent into the village of Ferrone, the rain promptly started to pour again, so I pulled off and stood forlornly underneath a strip-mall overhang for 15 minutes, waiting for it to pass.

Setting out again, things got even worse. I promptly missed another turn and had to double back. After crossing the river Greve, the side road immediately turned to gravel, which at first seemed interesting, in that I’d be experiencing the same gravel roads as the nearby “Strade Bianchi” professional bike race. But it wasn’t gravel so much as deep, wet, sucking mud.

I tried climbing the side hill next to a farm before realizing I was off course and doubling back. Then I plowed through what looked like a sodden logging road and forded a stream before realizing I was again off course and backtracking. On my third try, the correct “road” looked even less-used than my previous two mistakes. With me and the bike covered in mud, I angrily decided to abort the off-road bullshit, give up on the bike shop’s route, and just set off on my own. At least then I could stick to the pavement!

So I pulled over and tried to plan an ad hoc course that would hit the same major towns as the bike shop’s route. I decided to stick to the strada provinciali: the primary roads. They were busier, with more motor vehicles passing at higher speeds, but at least they were paved!

I followed SP3 back to Ferrone, then through Falciani—recognizing the Chianti Bike shop as I passed by. Then SP2 up to Tavarnuzze, which I also recognized from the previous evening’s grocery trip. Despite the wet conditions, I flew on these smooth primary roads, which were also much flatter, congenially following the river valley rather than billy-goating up and down over steep ridges.

By then I was feeling confident enough to consider rejoining the original bike route I’d downloaded, which cut across Tavarnuzze by taking a small street over a steep hill. But in a continuation of the day’s extemporaneous nature, I was turned away by a road closure!

Back on the provincial road out of Tavarnuzze, I endured a long (but thankfully not steep) climb up SP69 through Bagnolo back to Impruneta, which was all familiar from the previous afternoon’s drive. Then SP70 back to Mezzomonte and our villa. 22 miles, and thankfully less climbing than I’d feared (1,700 feet).

If you noticed that I haven’t talked about the Giro d’Italia yet, it wasn’t because I hadn’t thought about it. If I was going to do it, Thursday would have been the day I visited the Giro. Out of all 21 stages, Thursday’s stage 12 from Osimo to Imola was the closest to Florence.

However, Imola would have required an uncomfortable and indirect two-hour drive each way, across the Apennines, and hours of standing along the roadside, waiting. It would have been a full-day committment.

At the exact same time as the riders finished in Imola, online registration opened for a difficult-to-get-into meditation retreat that I was set on attending.

Plus, Thursday was my last chance to get a meaningful ride in. So after missing my chance to see the Tour de Langkawi in Malaysia two months ago, I chose to forego my chance to see the Giro when it passed so close.

San Polo In Chianti Pano

A wet panorama in San Polo In Chianti

Because I needed to be back by 3pm to register for the retreat, I could only manage another short morning ride. I fabricated my own route into the Chianti region and set off, again defying the continued cold, wet weather.

I followed my Monday route down off the ridge and into Grassina, where it immediately started to pour. Despite my misery, I picked up SP56 and headed south through Capanuccia, San Bartolomeo a Quarate, and down into San Polo In Chianti. Then SP119 west to Strada In Chianti, north through the town on SR222 before hitting SP69 into Impruneta from the southeast, and the now comfortable SP70 back to Mezzomonte and the villa.

At just 20 miles and 1,750 feet, in wet conditions, it was a disappointing end to my riding in Tuscany.

On Friday I loaded the bike into the car and brought it back to the shop, picking up a set of red handlebar-end plugs as my only cycling souvenir to bring home from Italy.

Impruneta Swoops

SP70 swoops through Impruneta

From a cycling standpoint, it was a disappointing trip. I’d anticipated long, sunny days spent exploring the countryside, admiring gorgeous views, quaint villages, and quiet roads. Instead, I missed the Giro and only managed 50 miles spread out over three very short rides, all of which were cold, wet, and miserable.

With better weather, I would obviously feel differently. The landscape is scenic and breathtaking. The roads are narrow and swooping, providing endless variety and revealing new photo opportunities every couple hundred meters. The drivers mostly didn’t cause me any problems, and certainly were less belligerent toward cyclists than in the US.

Those were all nice things that I appreciated. I have a feeling that Tuscany would be a wonderful place to ride on a nice day, with better equipment. But the absence of sun for my entire visit literally overshadowed my enjoyment of the region.

In the end, I was glad to go back home to Pittsburgh, where—despite its shitty roads and aggressive drivers—it’s sunny and warm at least some of the time.

Coming back from four and a half months of forced inactivity is decidedly *not fun*. And I know from not fun.

Back on October 2nd of last year, I rode the first of this year’s Dirty Dozen group training rides. Then my mother got sick, and I had to go to Maine to care for her. Over the following 19 weeks I only managed one trivial ride, while my previous peak strength and fitness plummeted. I only resumed training on February 14th, about a week and a half ago.

Old Mill gravel road

Fortunately, my homecoming corresponded with Pittsburgh’s warmest February ever, with a record nine days in the 60s, and a couple well into the 70s.

After jonesing for the bike all winter, last week’s weather allowed me to ride five days consecutively, and in those five days I rode more often than I had in the previous five months! For the week, I rode six days out of seven, covered 167 miles, climbed more than two vertical miles, and burned a spare 7,800 kCalories.

From a training perspective, I was trying to alternate between long, hilly days, and “off days” featuring short but hilly rides, to permit muscle recovery but maintain the training impulse. I hit Center Ave & Guyasuta (the first Dirty Dozen hill) twice, and took the opportunity to go exploring up a very hilly Field Club Road and the gravel outer segment of Old Mill. It felt great to finally put the body to use after endless months of inactivity!

But ironically, that intense desire to be on the bike post-layoff quickly evaporated, being overshadowed by the frustration and immense painfulness of rebuilding my fitness from nothing. It always surprises me that a short ride that I’d normally consider a mere warm-up in the summer can be so excruciatingly painful as to be almost impossible following a short winter break. And this was the longest that I’ve been off the bike in eighteen years!

Normally I’ve valued my off-season, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to relax, do something other than pedal, and eat whatever I want. I’ve always laughed at the muscle-heads who train year-round, caught in the perpetual hamster-wheel of compulsively needing to be faster than all their buddies. While I do enjoy riding fast and long, I don’t have so much ego at stake in my performance. Age and experience give you perspective beyond such adolescent traps.

But shockingly, I’m starting to appreciate the idea of training all year round. Not so much out of a vain compulsion to avoid losing competitive fitness at all costs; rather, it’s to avoid having to endure the muscle-searing pain of rebuilding the strength and endurance one loses during the off-season!

Or, to put it more succinctly: springtime riding still sucks hard! I mean, it’s beautiful and delightful… but it hurts so much that I’d consider giving up my off-season just to avoid that torture.

Thankfully, even in Pittsburgh February heatwaves must come to an end, giving weak, out-of-shape cyclists a breather, and a good reason to sit back and write about the trauma of early-season training.

Will I see you out on the road sometime?

Aquaman

Aug. 16th, 2016 05:18 pm

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.

Sunrise over the Monongahela

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.

So this is what an aquatorium looks like

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.

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.

Team Buildium
Mark and Tora
Saro
Alex at Dawn

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.

Between a holiday and the proximate weekend, the Fourth of July is almost always focused on training. There’s usually a long Quad Cycles ride on offer on the Fourth, in addition to the normal weekend rides. The Pan-Mass Challenge is a month away, and there’s always one last century around the end of July to prepare for (although it historically was the CRW Climb to the Clouds, in recent years I’ve switched to the Mt. Washington Century).

This year had the added impetus of a weather change. It was nearly impossible to ride in June due to an unchanging threat of thunderstorms every day that resulted in it being the third wettest June in recorded history. The whole month, I was only able to do three bike commutes. But on July 3rd, things shifted into a new pattern, creating a five-day heat wave that featured blazing sun, oppressive humidity, and temperatures well into the 90s.

With such a conjunction of factors, it was time to put some miles down.

July third was our first brutally hot day. I commuted to work, then took advantage of the early release day to do one rep of Great Blue Hill’s ballbuster climb. Then I hoofed it home just in time to turn around and ride out to the Landry’s / Green Line Velo Wednesday evening group ride for the first time in two years. I toodled along in the “leisurely” group because I wanted to conserve energy, but somehow I wound up getting sucked into the “medium-fast” group halfway through, which provided a much harder workout than I wanted. Despite working that day, my tally came to 68 miles.

The Fourth of July I decided to ride easy with Bobby Mac and the Quaddies. Between the brutal heat and holiday, it was a very small group that broke into bits immediately. I decided to skip the usual stop at Ferns Country Store, and instead went straight to Kimball Farm for ice cream, then solo’ed my way home via Virginia Road and the Old Mass Ave hill. Second day of the heat wave: 56 miles.

Somewhere in there I managed to really mess up my neck. I often stretch and crack my neck at stops, and I suspect I pinched something. Hopefully that problem will magically disappear in a few more days. I also generated some saddle problems, but my efforts to alleviate those seem to have worked.

July fifth I worked as normal and bike commuted, but experimented with trying to keep my heart rate below 80 percent max. Ridiculously hot; 22 miles.

July six was an easy Saturday ride with Quad, and I did the same ice cream route I’d done on the Fourth, spending the early part of the ride dispensing tips to an eager first-time PMC rider. I took it easy, since I had plans for a long ride on Sunday, and the 80 percent rule really seemed to make a major difference in how destroyed (or not!) I felt at the end of the ride. Yes, it was brutally hot. Another 56 miles.

July seven, despite it being uhh brutally hot, I wanted to go long, so at 6:30am I set out on an old, flattish century route I found online that someone had done from Cambridge to Rockport and back, using a mix of familiar and unfamiliar roads.

The short version of that story is that my fourth century of 2013 racked up another 109 miles, bringing my 5-day total to 312 miles in 20 hours of actual pedaling (i.e. excluding stops).

It was the fifth official day of the heat wave, and my fifth consecutive day in the saddle: something that actually hadn’t happened in more than two years.

But there were plenty of other interesting details to share, like passing Sesame Street in Wakefield, getting stuck drafting a big old farm tractor for a couple miles in Essex, and watching a coyote and a jackrabbit (separate incidents) cross the road in front of me in Hamilton. I continued my trend of trying to keep my heart rate below 80 percent, even when The Authorities tempted me to sprint by placing three or four of those “Your current speed is…” radar displays along the route!

It was also interesting to observe how as a cyclist my opinion of a town is very strongly influenced by the condition of their roads. I can tell you that Beverly is just a cheap, penny-pinching dump, while nearby Lynnfield and Middleton are absolutely wonderful, caring communities!

Stepping back and summarizing the season’s bigger picture… PMC fundraising is going okay. There are a lot of people I haven’t heard from yet, but there’s always a flurry of activity when the ride happens. The big open question is how much my angel sponsor (and his employer) will give, as that will make or break my year.

We’re now a week and a half away from the Mt. Washington Century, which Paul and I will do. No hard training between now and then, except maybe some hill repeats. And two weeks after that is the Pan-Mass Challenge, where I should see Jay and Kelly who’ll be up from Florida. Hopefully I’ll have some video footage from both events!

So the high season is now under way, and thanks to the weather and this past week of riding, my ridonculous tan lines are all ready to go!

This year’s blazing hot Tour d’Essex County (TdEC) century was tremendously difficult, and Noah and I were the only two people out of 75 starters who completed the ride.

Last year, I had to rely on the Commuter Rail to get to the start in Manchester, and since the first train didn’t arrive until an hour after the ride departed, I had to ride the entire route solo. This year I convinced my car-owning buddy Noah to come, which ensured that I’d at least be able to start with the rest of the group.

However, as Memorial Day weekend approached, we both had second thoughts. The weather was going to feature a cold, wind-driven rain and temperatures that barely reached 50 degrees. Thankfully, the organizers chose to postpone the ride by a week.

Aside: we hoped to ride a make-up solo century on Memorial Day itself, but I had to cancel that when I discovered my water heater had started leaking that morning.

While the original date had been cold and rainy, the make-up date (the following Saturday) had the opposite problem: blazing sun and temperatures well into the 90s. Nontheless, Noah drove up at 6am and we loaded my bike into his car. In the process, we got black chain grease all over my new bike’s (almost) pristine white bar tape (sigh). Then we headed up to Manchester for the start.

After arriving early, we set off with the rest of the riders, but the group thinned out very quickly. In fact, after riding 18 miles, we never saw another rider on the course. The first half of the ride is really scenic, and we set our own pace. Despite the fact that the roads weren’t marked, we only got off-course once in Middleton, which we realized very quickly when the road surface turned to gravel. As the temperature climbed through the 80s, we stopped at the West Village Provisions in Boxford before continuing on.

Fifty miles in, we reached the first rest stop: a bike shop in Newburyport. At this point, the route diverged from the one I’d ridden in 2012. From the bike shop, this year’s ride would do a 25-mile loop up one side of the Merrimack River and down the other, returning to the shop for another rest at mile 75 before returning to Manchester.

At this point, the temperature had exeeded 90 degrees, and we had emerged from the woods and begun traversing roads which were more exposed to direct sunlight. All the other riders, most of which were from the Essex County Velo cycling team, decided that the heat was too much, and they were going to skip the river loop and go straight home. Pussies, all of them. Noah and I were the only people who wanted to do a complete century, so I downed a package of crackers and some berries and we (perhaps stupidly) headed off toward the river.

The Merrimack loop was pretty scenic, but brutally challenging for me due to the heat and a surprise bout of exhaustion. While we’d averaged 17.5 mph over the first 50 miles, my speed dropped to 14.5 on this segment, and my average heart rate climbed up to 86 percent of my max. I’d lost all power, and that was reflected by the fact that I needed to stop and rest three times over that 25 mile stretch. Fortunately, one of those stops was right next to a stream emptying into the river, so I walked in and at least cooled my feet off!

When we finally got back to the shop, I was seriously overheating and just sat in the shop for about 15 minutes. Having assumed that all the riders had gone straight home, the shop had put away all the supplies for the ride, so the only thing they could offer us was room-temperature water. We took it gladly and reluctantly climbed back on our bikes for the final 25 mile trek home.

Half of that leg follows Route 1A, which is a busy main road with absolutely no cover. It was another brutal segment, and I found myself having to stop every couple miles just to bring my heart rate down. It was an epic struggle to make any meaningful progress. At this point, Noah decided to go on ahead of me, subsequently getting lost and finding his own route back to the shop. He did break 100 miles, but that left me as the only rider who was going to finish the ride according to the published route. Hopefully…

Several miles later, having drank the lukewarm water and poured an equal amount of it over my head, I needed to refill my bottle. As I crossed the Ipswitch town line, I spied a restaurant—The American Barbecue— and figured they might not turn away a dying cyclist. I went in and spied Nirvana: one of those soda machines where customers walk up and dispense their own drinks… and ice! SCORE!

I jammed my bottle full of ice and filled it with lemonade, then pulled up a bar stool and drained it. I also sucked down a disgusting apple-cinnamon energy gel. It was the first time I’d ever had an energy gel, so this was either a really great thing or an absolutely stupid idea, but things couldn’t really get any worse, could they? Knowing that whatever liquid was in my bottle would wind up being poured over my head, I refilled with ice water and headed back out onto the road.

Just one-point-seven miles later I rode past an ice cream stand. Well, when I say “rode past”, I actually mean “rode straight into”. There really was no conscious contemplation about whether I was going to stop or not; it just happened all by itself. It didn’t matter that I’d just rested, or that I’d just downed a quart of lemonade, or that I’d just swallowed that pukey gel; ice cream was cold, and if my delirium allowed me any thought it was that cold equalled good. So on top of all that crap already in my stomach, I threw in a big pile of chocolate chip.

This was either going to save me, or I would be leaving a huge smear of technicolor barf in the breakdown lane of Route 1A.

Much to my surprise, once I got back on the road I managed. I can’t say I felt much better, but instead of having to stop and rest every 2 miles, I managed to go 5 or 6 miles between stops. It remained a slog, but I managed to maintain a 13.4 mph average speed and eventually crawled into the finish in Manchester. Again, because they didn’t think anyone would actually do the whole century, they had already shut down the post-ride cookout. But it didn’t matter; I was happy to just grab a Coke and some ice.

Even though every other rider DNF’ed, and despite how ridiculously difficult it had been, I alone had kicked it! I was damned proud of my accomplishment, even though I averaged only 15.5 mph and took 8 hours 14 to do it. It was my second century of the year, and probably good hot-weather training, which I will need to get me through this year’s upcoming Mt. Washington century and Pan-Mass Challenge.

But even sooner than that, I will need that reservoir of strength to complete the grueling 130-mile Outriders ride—always the longest ride of the year—which is now a mere week away.

The TdEC ride was last Saturday, and on Tuesday I had my first full postride massage appointment. He did a lot of therapeutic work, which left me pretty sore the next morning, but I tested his work with a hilly 50-mile ride. I have to say, scenic Glezen Lane in Sudbury has to be one of my absolute favorite roads in Massachusetts.

Then I came home in time for my annual expedition to the Scooper Bowl, where I demolished 34 cups of ice cream, in the interest of charity, of course!

This weekend’s a family visit, so no riding, which should give my legs a little time to recover and prep for next weekend’s big ride to Provincetown. Here’s hoping the weather cooperates!

I’ve already had two noteworthy rides this month, so here’s a quick update.

On Laborious Day, my buddy Jay tricked me into going out to Princeton MA and riding about 50 miles to the summit of Mt. Wachusett and back. At 2000 feet, Wachusett is the highest point in Massachusetts east of the Connecticut River, and the only other time I’ve climbed it by bike was on the CRW Climb to the Clouds back in 2003… five years ago!

Biking Mt. Wachusett w/Jay
Flattest Century: Crapo Hill
Flattest Century: Tiverton, RI
Flattest Century: Tiverton, RI

It really was a nice ride, and quite a workout. In 2003, I approached the mountain from the north, and the ride up to the park gate seemed much more difficult than the actual climb from there to the summit. This year we came from the south, and the approach wasn’t quite as bad. However, the climb up from the gate seemed more challenging, which means the approach from the north must be even more of a beast than I remember!

We hung out at the summit for a while, and then rolled out for a nice zippy little descent back to Jay’s mom’s place. It made for a really nice day.

Then yesterday Jay and I did the Narragansett Bay Wheelmen’s Flattest Century in the East, which is in his old stomping grounds of southeastern Mass and eastern Rhode Island. It almost didn’t happen, as the remnants of Hurricane Hanna blew through overnight, but by morning it was surprisingly clear and warm. The only weather-related complications were a gusty residual breeze and a ton of windfallen branches from the storm.

I really wasn’t up for the ride. My legs hadn’t recovered from the Wachusett ride six days earlier, and I hadn’t trained at all since the PMC, a month ago. On top of that, I was overtired, headachey, and too nauseous to eat anything for breakfast. That all showed in my performance on the bike, which was okay, but lackluster.

On the minus side, by the end it was a bit of a slog, as I started to feel the effects of not eating anything beforehand or on the bike. Both Jay and I were pretty exhausted by the end, but we felt a lot better after a shower and some ice cream at his friend Steve’s, then a big meal (fajitas for me) at Healthy Grille before returning to Boston.

On the plus side, it was nice to do a long supported ride where I felt no pressure to finish early. Unlike the PMC, we took our time at the water stops, even picking up some lemon ice cream at the 50-mile stop in Tiverton RI (they were out of sorbet). The day was glorious and the ride really pretty, especially where the route touched the Atlantic coast in Tiverton and at Elephant Rock.

But I think next time I’ll plan to keep my training up and get a little more food into my body, rather than doing the ride undertrained and undernourished.

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.

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!

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