Trainer Confessions

Just another day in a cyclist's life

A whopping 400 miles!

I remember in 2005 being a bit proud of myself at the end of summer of my first season of riding (note that I don't have riding seasons now -- there's no beginning nor end to when I ride).  I had logged a whopping 400+ miles and I was exuberant over my accomplishment when I informed one of my managers (Julie) in the EMC² office.  She was an avid cyclist so I thought she'd appreciate the significance of such a big number.

She did smile, but in retrospect I think it have been just a case of her being polite out of respect for my position.  I was a director of Quality Assurance at the time, soon to move into director of Engineering, with my sights set on VP titles and beyond.  Needless to say that my career was pretty important to my self-identity.  I viewed my work title as partly defining who I was, and the title shed some light down the path of life and what I wanted to be.

A lot has changed since then.

The Meaning of 10,000

I do admit to having a bit of pride in now crossing 10,000 miles for 2011, but not too much.  I celebrated the less than momentous occasion for all of about 2 minutes this morning.  Partly because it was a milestone achieved at 5 AM in frigid temps.  Had I celebrated for any more time than the 2 minutes it took to shoot this photo of the moment, I'd have lost to frostbite some essential body parts required for me to cycle again.

The main reason though that I didn't pop open a bottle of bubbly is that its not like winning a race or climbing some monstrous mountain peak.  To be honest, it is not really an accomplishment, other than the fact that I am able to put in lots of hours on the bike.

Yet the number 10,000 does have some significance to me.  First, it served as a reminder that I'm darn lucky to have the time to rack up so many hours of enjoyment out on the bike.  I'm in a pretty special situation right now with work/life balance, my health, and the support of Mrs D and the girls.  You don't get to 10,000 miles without those key ingredients and for that I consider myself both lucky and extremely grateful.

Second, I do take a bit of pride in how I've been able to get many of the hours in w/o infringing upon family time.  While I'm certainly lucky with the situation I now find myself in, you also don't get to 10,000 without lots of dedication and determination.  I'm certainly not the toughest guy in the world, far from it.  However, you don't get a whiff of 10k living in New England while trying to maintain a decent balance with work and the family unless you can tough out a lot of early morning work-outs, either in the basement or in nasty weather.

But perhaps the reason I now find 10,000 of such significance is that it served as a sort of stamp on the paperwork to officially change the way in which I define who I am -- I'm a cyclist now!  I'm clearly no longer defined by work; that chapter of my life is closed, at least for now. If a stranger were to ask me what I do, my first response of course would be a dad, but quickly followed by "I'm a cyclist".  To be honest, if I ever have to look for a new job now, my path up the career track would only a secondary consideration in the job search.  Of primary concern now would be how I could fit cycling into the equation.  Would the company's location allow me to commute by bike?  Or would they offer the option to work remotely, allowing me to use commuting time instead for cycling?  Or maybe would the new job somehow do something to support other cyclists?  If so, then let's talk about future career growth and benefit packages if time permits during the interview!

So if you asked me what I did today, I might not even mention the 10,000 miles (OK, that's a stretch).  My response should be that the day was nothing out of the normal; just another day in a cyclist's life.

Feasting at the Smorgasbord of Fall Riding Opportunities

You know it’s my off-season when my post delve more into calorie consumption than calorie burning, and counting down the intervals, in fact counting in general is replaced with chit-chatting and joking with friends, and mid-race premes have now been supplanted with mid-ride hulu hoop breaks…

What follows below are three short recaps of rides that each deserved a stand-alone post of the own, but when you’re feasting at the smorgasbord of fall riding opportunities here in CT, there’s not a lot of blogging time left-over once I finally get off of the saddle.

Pie Ride

My plans for a weekend jam packed with sun-up to sun-down riding adventure almost started with a DNS for me as I took a few wrong turns and had to hammer it to meet the crew in Marlborrough for the Pie Ride.  Fortunately for me the rather large group took a few more minutes than planned to depart, and included a wide range of riders, so despite getting lost I arrived with minutes to spare, and the social pace at the start gave me ample time to recover. 

I chatted it up for the first few miles, especially with the ride organizer Karen (who’s efforts to mark the roads provided me worry-free navigation, even when I was at the front) and I made every effort to keep the pace tame when I was at the pointy end of the ~25 person pack.  Overall though I didn’t socialize enough on what was supposed to be a social ride, but I tried to be on my best behavior and leave behind any testosterone fueled hammering, even if a town line came into view.

I honestly thought I was still keeping things tame as we ascended a hill that climbed for maybe 6 or 7 minutes.  Frequent checks over my shoulder confirmed that I had a rider on my wheel, with glimpses of several more riders lined up to his rear.  But my “tame” pace going up a hill was probably an all-out effort for some, especially those who trained more for the PIE and less for the RIDE.

When we crested the hill our numbers had dwindled to just 7 and even pulling into the middle of the lane away from the other 6 so that I could safely sit up for a full look behind me wasn’t enough to catch a glimpse of those who had fallen behind.  So as penance for breaking up the group (unintentionally, I swear!), I resolved to sit at the front until reaching our final destination.  With winds in excess of 25 mph mostly howling against us on the way out, I had hoped to repay those that stayed with me by taking on the worst of the wind’s force.  Unfortunately though with my slight frame I’m sure those behind me still felt about 24.9 mph of the 25 mph head wind.

I’m guessing the effort to block at the front must have been somewhat appreciated though as nobody ever really made an attempt to bump me off the front and start me down the rotation.  One thing that I am sure of though is that the effort eased my conscience.  Not for breaking up the socializing, but instead, by off-setting a few more calories and lowering the guilt level I’d feel after the gluttony that followed.

Behold, the pie man!  45 apples were peeled, sliced, and slathered in butter, sugar, and spices to make this behemoth.

A single slice is as tall as my helmet

Real Artways Ride

With 4 hours of riding under my belt (which surely moved up a notch after Man-vs.-Food sized lunch-time slice) and some afternoon volunteering at the local Apple Festival keeping me up on my feet for hours, my body was telling me that Saturday evening should have been spent curled up on the couch.  But after basically ignoring the social-side of cycling for the entire 9 months of my 2011 training & racing season, I now feel compelled (almost obligated) to say “yes” anytime someone asks me to join them on a fun-ride.  Expo-mate Dave J thought that the family and I would have fun at something called the Real Artways Ride and mentioned that we’d see a bunch of friendly faces there, so recovery would just have to wait a day (actually, two days, but I’m getting ahead of myself).

I must say that Dave J did a stellar job in expectations setting.  We did in fact see some friendly faces, amidst the nearly 150 who gathered for the night time ride in downtown Hartford.  Even the faces we didn’t know though were pretty darn friendly looking (though with Halloween coming up, a few of the faces were “fiend”ly looking as well); in fact, as our large and wild looking pack snaked its way through Hartford, we seemed to make the faces of all that we passed by turn “friendly” as well. 

We passed through several neighborhoods where I’m guessing that recreational cyclists are a rarity, and we frequently blocked intersections and slowed traffic, and we constantly made way too much noise for the after dark hours.  However, rather than hearing f-bombs tossed our way for delaying people’s travels or interrupting their quiet Saturday evening, we saw smile after smile in ever car that passed us by; people set down their beers and exited the local bars to cheer us on; and little kids came pouring out of apartment complexes to give us a holler. 

If you ask me, cruising with Mrs. D and the girls in a rowdy and brightly lit cycling caravan on a Saturday evening alone would have left us with fond memories.  But given that this was an “arts” oriented ride, the evening’s ride was broken up by three different 15-20 minute entertainment stops.  The first was a improv show, and the last was a stop at triangle of dormitories at Trinity College where rudimentary musical instruments were passed through the crowds.  The highlight stop, at least in the opinion of my girls, was the middle of the trifecta.  Only in the off-season will you read about rides where hula-hoops are distributed for a mid-ride fun break!

Uber-Epic Rail Trail Ride

After nearly 9 months of hermit-like isolation while training for this past racing season, you now know I’m feverishly approaching this off-season trying to cram in as much fun and adventure as possible.  It’s as if I’ve been fasting for a week, and now I’ve been set loose at an all-you-can eat pasta deal at The Olive Garden.  My legs were telling me on Sunday that they had had enough to “eat” over these last few weeks, but the memories of the months of “fasting” erased my better judgment and when I said “yes” to the invite to partake in the “Uber-Epic Rail Trail Ride” on Sunday afternoon.

I’m not so sure that the ride quite lived up to the “Uber-Epic” moniker, as for me that’s a title that forever will be associated with last year’s Detour De CT, where over the course of 9 ½ hours of riding, Connecticut’s rail trail system offered up dilapidated bridges, mountain biking on a cross bike, swimming with said cross bike in the CT river, and many more trials and tribulations.  But while the ride fell short of achieving “Uber-Epic” status, it did go down as quite the autumn adventure. 

Too many smiling faces for this to be called an Uber-Epic ride

Starting off with a crew of 23 at just about quarter to two on a crisp fall afternoon, the goal for the day was to explore as much of the Airline Rail Trail as possible.  Given that it was mostly an out-and-back ride, you could (and people did) reverse course at any point once you’ve had your fill of the crushed stone pathway.  But if your appetite for miles and adventure exceeded your appetite for the kick-ass post-ride food and beverage selection (a big THANK-YOU is in order to the Thread City Cycle team for inviting me and organizing such a delicious post-ride spread!), there was nothing to stop you from riding well into the night, as there were plenty of bike lights to keep you on the trails.

Almost time to don the lights

I suppose that Saturday’s apple pie had my belly still feeling full a day later as it was clear that my appetite for miles and adventure won out and kept me and a hardy (or crazy?) group out well past dark.  By the time I opened my first frosty beverage and began to chow down on the jambalaya at just after 8:30 PM, we had logged nearly 5 hours and 45 minutes of riding 85 miles of rail trails.  Our time in the saddle only rarely encountered anything remotely resembling a hill, but for the most part our pace was set just a few notches north of a social ride, with yours truly out at the front setting the pace for extended stretches of time.  For the second consecutive day the calorie-burning engine was set to “high” for hours at a time, thereby affording me guilt-free indulgences amongst some new friendly faces.

Hmmmm…riding with friendly faces, setting the calorie burning engine to 10, and indulging in food forbidden to me during the season…sounds an awful lot like my plan for next weekend too!  Check back again for what will likely be my next post after next Saturday’s Donut Derby.

CT to Cape Cod Double Century

Autumn riding at its best

Yesterday was one of those spectacular New England autumn weather days that surely inspired many to get out and hit the roads. The clear dry air and unseasonably warm temps probably caused a few riders to say "Man, with weather like this, I could ride all day!" Well, yesterday I did exactly that.

I departed home under the cover of darkness just after 5 AM yesterday, layered up with late fall/early winter clothing to ease the bite of the 43 degree chill. But within hours, then sun was up, and so were the temps, and I stripped down and tucked away the extra clothing (a very tight fit for my rear middle pocket) and then it was just smiles and miles for hours and hours.

Well, not exactly. Over the course of the day there were two small stretches where my spirits began to dip and my mind seemed to be dominated by thoughts of "I have how many miles to go????", around mile 90 and again around mile 110. Those low points were brief though, lasting just a few miles before I reversed the gears in my brain and got things back on track.

The route I took (somewhat based upon the map below) required very little active navigation, and offered up almost no challenging terrain, freeing me to use my brain for retrospection (where I concluded that life is going pretty well for me now); planning for the future (and of course many of those plans revolved around the bike); and just enjoying the moment, soaking up the scenery that ranged from farmlands, ocean views, cranberry bogs, and everything else you'd expect to see in Southern New England.

And of course my thoughts inevitably wrestled with numbers to help bridge my gaps in thoughts about life. From counting to calculating, I made note of the following throughout the day:

• 59,520: number of revolutions I turned the cranks yesterday
• 8,362: my mileage total for 2011 after yesterday's ride ended
• 5,926: calories burned during yesterday's ride, or about 8 Big Mac cheeseburgers topped with loads of catsup and mustard
• 197.88: total miles I tallied by the time I got to Orleans, MA
• 197.0: number of Dunkin Donuts I think I counted (I might be exaggerating some, but man it seems like there's one every mile now).
• 96: ounces of water consumed during the ride
• 48: ounces of Gatorade consumed during the ride
• 6: number of cliff bars consumed during the ride
• 2: number of Dunkin Donut's chocolate chip muffins I consumed during the ride (I couldn't pass 197 D&Ds and not stop at least a few times, right?)
• 0: number of clouds seen throughout the day

So over the 13+ hours I spent alone, my brain stayed remarkably fresh from start to finish. What's even more surprising was how the rest of my body responded. Aside from some modest chafing on the inner thighs, I arrived looking (according to Mrs. D) as if I had just finished a Sunday morning group ride.

Almost nothing went wrong for me all day long. Even when things could have turned against me, luck seemed to be shining down upon me just as brightly as the sunlight shone all day long. When the wind picked up, it was at my back, never slowing me down. When my overflowing pockets ejected some of my clothing, it landed on my chain stay and a good Samaritan shouted to alert me before I lost the garments forever. The two times I got lost during the day never gave me reason to be concerned. I had planned only a 190 mile ride, giving me a budget of 10 miles of being lost, and with a nearly due-east route, all I had to do is to look up and seek out the sun to get myself back on course. And when my wallet bounced out of my pocket shortly after leaving Dunkin Donuts, the wind died down and the cars seemed to disappear, ensuring that I had the silence needed to notice the sound of something falling and hitting the road.

I'm not sure if I'll do another double century anytime soon. With all of the good luck I had go my way during yesterday's ideal autumn weather, I can't imagine that my next experience would produce such fond memories. But...after coming up just short of an official 200 miler, I may tempt the fates again, especially when the forecasters predict another day like yesterday.

 

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Announcing Awesome Autumn Adventures (AAAA)

 I initially entitled this post "Fall, Family, Friends, and Fun" as it got more to the point of this post, but FFFF didn't seem to be as upbeat of an ancroynm as AAAA.

My last post (Cat Up or Not) might have given some readers the impression that I rigidly live and breath intervals, work-outs, WKO+, and schedules.  However, my planning prowess can also be used for activities that might appeal to you non-sadists out there.  By the time my off-season was just a scan six days old, I already had something fun and interesting planned out right through November.

But this isn't a post for me to "wow" you with my organizational skills.  Instead, I'm hoping that in sharing my look ahead here at the Trainer Confessions, I might be able to drum up a little extra participation at some events that are sure to be a blast and will allow you to chaulk up some lasting memories.  But I'm also sharing this for a selfish reason -- I'm hoping to get a bunch of friendly faces to populate the field to increase my off-season fun factor.

Family

I already kicked off the off-season fun this past weekend with what I hope was the first of many "Spooky rides" (that's what my two little ones called it).  Mrs D and I both had our headlights on by the end of our hour long family rail trail ride on Sunday evening, but within a few weeks our rides will get a little scarier as we'll likely be barrelling down the Airline trail absent of any light aside what we're projecting from our handlebars.

Pulling over to turn the lights on

 
Good causes

Sticking with the family theme, Mrs D, the Train & the girls, and I will all line up for the 35 mile option at the Oct 1st Pedal for Paws (they also have a 25 mile and a 50 mile option).  Last year the girls got their first taste of pack riding (we even challenged Dave J for a town line sprint!) and they got such a thrill when the Expo contingent overtook us while loudly cheering for the girls.  And Mrs D got her first, second, and third tastes of what could have been the best-ever post ride dessert table, so there's something in store for all of the Desmarais family when we line up to help raise money for homeless cats.

 
But before the Desmarais clan heads to Old Saybrook, I will be headed down to New Haven this Saturday for a rally called Moving Planet.  Right now I plan to ride the 36 miles down to the 4 PM event alone (and likely be headed back again alone, but in the dark) so if you're interested in showing your support, please let me know.  Here's a short snippet on what the hole thing is about: "Moving Planet is a worldwide rally to demand solutions to the climate crisis. Come on bike, on skates, on a board, or just on foot."

Speaking of showing support, at the tail end of October I'll be lending a hand at the Expo Wheelmen's first ever Silk City Cyclo-Cross race at Manchester Community College.  I've never raced Cross before so even though I'll just be there in a support capacity, I'm excited to take part in what I've been told is a rockin' good time.  But in addition to the fun factor, helping at the event will allow me to in turn support the casuses of the event.  A portion of each entry will be donated to the MCC Foundation scholarship fund, and in cooperation with Manchester Community College there will be a food drive to benefit MACC Charities.  

 
Racing for Fun

For those of you who know my competive side, you'll surely realize that my appetite for racing won't be satied simply by helping and cheering at the Silk City race.  I've got two races penciled in for the fall, but in order to adhere to my FFFF guiding principle for the off-season, each race definitely needs to have a big Fun and Friends component.

I have no plans to break my promise to avoid intervals in preparation for my first race on Oct 22nd, but I might have to stop at Dunkin Donuts to get in some race day prep for the first ever Donut Derby.  I honestly cannot recall the last time I've eaten a donut (we're talking in terms of years here), so I'll clearly be at a disadvantage at this event as each donut consumed knocks off 90 seconds from your overall race time. 

On the other hand, Cycling Concept's Dirty Dozen race on Nov 5th plays right into my wheelhouse.  There's no way I can pass up on a hilly challenge that tackles 13 ascents up roads I regularly train on.  But the biggest reason I get excited about this race (I competed each of the last two years) is that the format of the race offers me a great way to chit chat and socialize with friends.  While everyone hauls butt up the hills as soon as the whistle blows (btw, the hills all can be climbed in 2 or3 minutes at most, many in far less time), the entire field regroups at the top.  So it amounts to a friendly group ride that gets painfully interupted by 13 min-races.

Glutton for Punishment

And the word pain is a nice segue to the final part of my off-season plan.  Though I admit that these two entries hardly adhere to the FFFF guidelines if done solo, I am hoping to recruit a few sadists to join me in my adventures.

Anyone interested in helping to break up the monotony of my first ever attempt at a double centry?  I don't have Columbus day off from work, so I've decided to ride home to CT from Cape Cod and let Mrs D and the girls extend their stay to a full three days.  I've completed a 192 mile ride last fall, but I had the luxury of three far more experieneced riders pulling me for probably the last 50 miles.  200 miles alone on Oct 9th might cause me to go crazy.

And speaking of crazy, I was inspired by the "Hill Junkie" to begin planning my own slightly shorter (with perhaps "only" 9,000 feet of climbing!) version of his Berkshire Boondoogle.  I'm aiming to do it on the weekend of Oct 15th so that the spectacular fall colors of Massachusett's Berkshire Mountains will help to ease my pain as I tackle hills (or should I say mountains) like Greylock and East Hawley.  Drop me a line if you might want to join me on this adventure.

That's all I've got for now, though I think it might be hard to cram anymore FFFF into my off-season.  That said, if there's something tempting that I've missed, don't hestitate to make your own Autumn Awesome Adventure Announcement.

Mystic Family Adventure

How does he do it?

As I gathered up whatever strength remained in me today to put up a quick blog post, I wondered how the Metal Cowboy pulled off his multiple cross country/continent family bicycle adventures.  In one of his epic crossings from coast to coast, I believe he averaged six or seven hours a day in the saddle, with his tandem co-pilot #1, tag-along co-pilot #2, infant toting trailer, and luggage for 5 all being pulled behind him, through terrain that went up and over passes through the Rockies and later into the Appalachians.  Once the day ended, he and his clan did it again, and again, and again, for weeks stretching through the summer.

Me, on the other hand, well... I can barely keep my fingers typing right now after only logging 74 miles (just under 7 & 1/2 hours) over two days, while pulling only co-pilot #1 in a tag-along, co-pilot #2 in the trailer, and more luggage than needed for just two days (I have Mrs D to thank for that).  And I wasn't climbing through the mountains as did the Metal Cowboy.  Despite having tackled some of the North East's craziest hills over the last month, the rollers between Colechester and Mystic had my engine taxed to the max.  In fact, I even had to do an emergency/panicked un-clipping to put a foot down and avoid a "train" collapse as the modest incline on the approach to the New London pedestrian crossing got the best of me.

The train gets rolling again after about 20 feet of embarrassed walking.

 
Other contrasts between me and the Metal Cowboy came to mind earlier as well.  He and his crew are guided by a few maps and travel books, but mostly by a seemingly innate ability to know at all times how to get from A to B.  Me...well despite asking numerous times for directions, consulting with google maps, and waving my iPhone's gps in circles like a wizard casting a spell on the person who marked the roads, it took me nearly 45 frustrating minutes to find the narrow pedestrian path to get out of New London.

And while I might have moaned and groaned when I had to break down the train and then reassemble it the next day for our stay at the Comfort Inn, the Metal Cowboy not only had to do that, but also setup camp in a tent each night, and then tend to the numerous bike maintenance issues that arise when you're on the road for so long.

We get to recover in relative luxury as compared to those like the Metal Cowboy who rough it in camp grounds

 
Why does he do it?

While I can't imagine how the Metal Cowboy successfully ferried his clan (with his wife riding her own steed on one of his adventures) without either him collapsing or his family disowning him, the Desmarais Mystic adventure gave me numerous hints as to why he rolls across the country. 

I'm not sure if I'll ever get excited enough about a good report card to go out and slap a bumper sticker proudly proclaiming my daughter's good grades.  However, I'd immediately open my wallet if I saw a sticker that said "My daughter loves hills."  You can only imagine the joy this hill climber felt as my youngest daughter composed her song "I love hills" after barrelling down one of the weekend's numerous descents.  While she didn't seem to enjoy the climbing part as much, there's no containing her joy going down a good hill, and the look on her face was contagious!

 
Perhaps the Metal Cowboy is reminded why he does it when people approach him (as they did to me this weekend) to point out how dangerous it is to bring your kids on the road (unfortunately the roads we took had us on some busy stretches filled with speeding cars).  While I won't dispute that there's some danger when sharing the road with two ton pick-ups, I always am quick to point out to those offering their caution that my kids would face far more harm had they been on the couch, watching TV, as I'm sure many kids their age were doing when we were out and about.

While I'm hopeful that I'll be able to continue racing for many years to come, adventures like this weekend continue to remind me that family rides wouldn't be a bad plan B if I sought to fill my summer weekends with something other than racing.  Our weekend lacked cycle friendly roads, our ultimate destination didn't have any super kid friendly rides and entertainment (and unfortunately what Mystic does have to offer was closed by the time we ventured into town yesterday evening), and all four of us are walking zombies right now.  However, when I look back on all of the smiling faces from the time together this weekend, it kinda makes me wonder if some future summer might be race-free and instead filled with my own Metal Cowboy adventures...

Lunch break

 

The swim leg of our adventure

 

More smiles than miles
 

Mount Washington Century

Part Time Job

For the first time in over 3 months, I will not be pedaling a single stroke today.   The last time I spent a full 24 hours off the bike was way back in April – what a remarkable stretch of cycling!  It is somewhat ironic that I am getting this forced day of rest due to work (I’m typing this while on a flight to Dallas TX), as my “part-time job” during the Desmarais family vacation in North Conway likely necessitated a day off the bike.  If it weren’t for the flight and then full day of meetings today, odds are that I’d be sorely tempted to hop back on the bike and sacrifice some sorely needed downtime.

You might be wondering what I meant by the “part-time job” comment.  Well, while I was away in New Hampshire for 9 absolutely magnificent days (not marred by even one rain drop during the daylight hours), I spent nearly 27 hours doing manual labor.  Like a low paying job, the work was very repetitive in nature, spinning the same machine (my cranks) over 121,000 times.  And just as a 2^nd job often requires odd hours to work around the schedule of the primary job (my job #1 last week was as the fearless travel agent and tour guide for the Desmarais family), I found myself up most days well before the sun came up.

But…the big difference between what I did last week and an early shift job making the donuts at D&D is the pay-off.  What I experienced last week could not be equated to the paltry minimum wage salary earned at a part-time gig.  With one exception (Cathedral Ledge), I bagged all of my normal hill climbs at least once (Bear Mt and Thorn Mt once each, and Pinkham Notch, Crawford Notch, and Hurricane Mt twice apiece).  I also scored some new-for-me climbs up the full extent of the Kangamangus Hwy, as well as an ascent up the north side (in other words, traveling south) of the steep, twisty, and dirt climb up Jefferson Notch. 

And no employer would offer the benefits provided by the Tin Mountain Conservation volunteers like what I received during the Mount Washington Century this past Saturday!

Mount Washington Century

It was just minutes ago, when the stewardess announced that all electronics needed to be off, that I took the time to read about the charity supported by the Mount Washington Century.  I brought on the flight today some of the reading material that was in my goodie bag handed to me at the sign-in of Saturday’s ride, and I now realize that I rode for a great cause – “To promote an appreciation of the environment in children, adults, and families through hands-on programs in schools, at summer camp, and in the community”.   If I ride again next year (and I will ride it again next year if my vacation week lines up with the date they select for next year’s edition), I’m going to be a bit more earnest in fundraising for the cause.  However, when I signed up for the charity, all I knew of the charity was that it was marketed as “New England’s Most Challenging Century.”

 

I don’t give the ride’s organizers high marks for their marketing.  First off, their “century” was actually 111 miles.  Those extra 11 miles, on top of the 22 miles I added commuting by bike to the start/finish gave me way over a double metric century for the day.  I should be able to tout that I did a double (metric) century, not a measly 100 miler! 

Also, I have to challenge their claim to be the “most challenging” century.  Sure, the climbs up Bear, Pinkham Notch, and Crawford Notch were tough on a near 90-degree day, and the final one-mile climb up Bald Hill Road in Albany was a doozie, especially after already logging 120 miles.  However, how can you give top marks in the challenging category for a ride that had five fully supported and well-staffed break areas stocked with lots of calorie rich goodies throughout the ride?  If you want to call a ride “challenging”, you should tell riders that they ride will conclude with a BBQ serving liver and lima beans, rather than motivating them by highlighting that, in addition to the standard BBQ fair, the event would be capped off with Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream (which I sandwiched in between two tasty home baked chocolate chip cookies).  Lastly, for a ride to be truly challenging for me, it would be completed while mounted atop my trainer, up in my office, without any distractions, and not set amidst the White Mountains.  Vistas like what I saw on such a beautiful summer day act as a magnate, nearly pulling me without effort through the course.  You call that challenging?

Joking aside, I have to once again count my lucky stars.  I couldn’t have asked for a better family vacation/hill training camp.  I’ve stocked up on enough family memories to tide me over until our next big get-away (Tucson AZ during February vacation), and I’ve logged enough tough hours in the saddle to hopefully set me up for a great finish to the summer road racing season. 

All that’s needed now is a little bit of “rest” now that I’m back at work!

Mid-Vacation Check-in

Another Notch on the hill climbing belt

I only have time for a short post today (well, I’m at least starting the post thinking it will be terse, but odds are that I’ll find the time to get wordy).  Odds are that I won’t have any more blogging time until after my vacation/hill-training-camp ends on Sunday and I’m allowed to “rest” on an early Monday AM business flight to Dallas.  It is a family vacation first and foremost, and as usual the time I claim as my own and away from Mrs D and the little ones needs to fit into the early AM hours, or during nap time.  Normally those Dennis D time blocks are sufficient to allow me to cycle and blog, but not this time around.  And I only have myself to blame for that!

You see, when I asked the Coach for my plan for the week, I told him to bring on the pain.  I didn’t give him any time limitations, and I told him to take full advantage of the fact that I’m surrounded by all sorts of hills.  It also is the last week of what will end up being the final three week “build” block of training for 2011, so I fully expected a loaded schedule in the mail.  My expectations were more than exceeded so to speak.  As I glanced at email one final time on Sunday night, I saw that the Coach had me logging 21.5 hours on the bike for the remaining 7 days of vacation, with a heavy dosage of hilly intervals.  And that was on top of the 5.5 hours I had already logged on the first two vacation days.

I had a fitful sleep Sunday night, mostly driven by the anxious spinning of the wheels in my head, trying to figure out how best to squeeze in so many hours on the bike in a way with minimal impact to the family vacation.  I even conjured up the Tetris tune in my head to help place the cycling hours into the right scheduling holes.  Eliminating blogging time ( as well as blog reading time) was the first idea, as well as getting the Mrs to drive to places like Santa’s Village (~50 miles distant from our home base) while I’d meet them there on the bike.  And of course any thoughts of sleeping in late (which for me would be 6 AM) went out the window as well.

Well, I must be “at one with nature” out here in North Conway, because some obnoxiously loud animal read my mind at about 3:55 AM on Monday to give me a very rude wake-up call.  I’m guessing it was a bird that made the rucous, and not these guys (who woke us up on Tuesday morning by ripping the siding off of our house!).

It's hard to see through the screen, but they really are ripping the siding off in an attempt to get in

 

I briefly thought of trying to go back to sleep, but then my anxiety driven plan quickly replaced the loud squawking keeping me from sleeping.  After many cups of coffee, I was off before the sunrise, ready to put a big dent in the week’s hours.  4.5 hours later, I arrived at Santa’s Village, much relieved to see the cheery little ones unloading from the car with Mrs. D.  I was excited to switch gears and focus on the kids, especially knowing then that I’d find a way to get the cycling hours in this week.  But what made my smile even bigger as I changed out of my cycling gear and into my daddy gear was the fact that during my circuitous route to meet up with the girls, I “discovered” a new hill for me, a diamond in the rough. 

I had never ascended Jefferson’s Notch before, not even by car.  I had only vague recollections about the ride having read a blog post some time back (after the ride I searched for it to refresh my memory – lots of good North Conway hill information here), but I really didn’t know what to expect for terrain, duration, or pain. 

I’m not sure where Jefferson’s Notch ranks in the White Mountains difficulty list, but I can safely say that it now rates very high in my all-time list of grueling rides.  Though that rating may be skewed by the lack of sleep, plus the 3.5 hours of hilly intervals that had already battered my legs prior to hitting the Notch.  The only rest I got during the 45 minutes of climbing were the small pavement sections of the road, sprinkled throughout the early stretches where the road made its frequent overpass of a bubbling stream.  The remainder of the climb was all dirt and rocks that were not quite packed down well enough to allow me to stand and mash the gears where the grade inched up over 15 or 20%.  I had to stay seated and steadily crank away, lest my tires spin out on the dirt and I took a tumble.

The picture is blurry as I snapped it from my iPhone while climbing -- can't waste any time to stop for pictures!

 

It wasn’t a very scenic climb; in fact, until the very top, I truly was in a pain “cave”, as trees and leaves entombed, I mean, enclosed the entire view throughout the ride.  It also wasn’t the greatest descent, as I never really could let it rip for fear of losing traction on the dirt switch backs (and given that I only saw one car during my climb, and given that I had no cell reception, I wanted to avoid sitting in a ditch for hours waiting for help while fending off bears).  But for a guy who for some reason loves to inflict pain upon his legs, you can be sure that Jefferson’s Notch will be added to my must-ride climbs when the Desmarais family returns in 2012.

My only rest stop atop Jefferson's Notch

 

Performance Enhancing Drugs

Its all Legal

It's unfortunate that we far too frequently hear how some the big names in cycling are caught doping and/or engaging in some other illegal performance enhancer.  It wasn't until this week though that I realized that probably all of the top cyclists are taking advantage of a very legal performance enhancing drug -- scenic mountain roads.

I'm not talking about the obvious benefit derived from training in the mountains, but nearly a week now into my family vacation out West, I won't deny that roads like this offer clear advantages to those who are lucky enough to train in places like this.  Just the other day my route included a hill that had me climbing for a full hour, non-stop.  I turned around on my out-and-back ride having already logged 27 miles, but from what I've been told, I could have kept on climbing for perhaps another 45 minutes.  I was tempted to take advantage of full offering of Kolob Terrace Road (in Virgin, Utah) given that I won't see anything remotely like it back in CT.  But I reminded myself that I was on a family vacation, and not a training excursion, so I left those final few miles for the pros out on the roads.

The Route

According to MayMyRide, the portion of Kolob Terrace Rd I covered ranks amongst some of the TdF hills.

  

A State of Zen
There's more to those mountains though than just a great way to crank up the resistance on your rides.  What I've noticed in the past five days is that the enormity of the dramatic vistas looming above me as I climb seems to have a drug-like affect upon me.  I know my body is suffering and my legs in particular are teetering on the edge of revolt.  However, once my brain starts processing the images of the snow capped mountains ahead, my body must start producing some chemicals that seem to blunt the feeling of pain.  I have to imagine that the body must do something similar in response to pain killers or other classes of drugs that allow you to ignore the incoming sensations.

If I had attempted the same work-out say up on the trainer, or even out on my normal routes in CT, I'd surely be fighting the urge to pull over and call it quits.  But here, under the influence of the drugs offered up at Zion National Park, I'm cranking out Watt after Watt in a blissful state of Zen.  Hopefully you can get a contact high by taking a look at a few of the pictures I snapped on my way back down.  Don't worry -- it's legal.

Near the base of Kolob Terrace Rd.  Just a hint of snow on the peak in the center.

I hit 52 mph near this turn on the way down, but on the way up I was holding steady at around 9 mph.

 

I saw more deer (12) than cars (5) on my climb, as this empty parking lot can attest to.

The world looks a little different after climbing 4000 ft up.

Even if I had more time to complete the ascent, snow covered roads likely would have turned me back any ways.

Views clase to where I stopped

My poor rental CAAD 9 is probably getting more miles than it's used to getting in a week

I say "bring on the intervals" if this is what awaits me!

 

Spin City

Worth Every Penny

I really haven't adjusted to the time zone difference since arriving in Las Vegas in the wee hours of Sunday morning, so that meant I was up and ready to go well before sun up on Tuesday.  It was our last day in Vegas before heading to the north and east to Zion National Park, so even though I had already logged two laps around Red Rock canyon just 12 hours earlier, my appetite for the challenging yet panoramic course had not yet been satisfied.  It was cold (though not as cold as it was back at home) and dark, but I quietly clipped my headlight on my helmet and snuck out of the resort before the girls awoke so that I could  get two more doses of what the red rocks could throw my way.

It was a steady thirty minute slog up a modest hill to get to the park entrance.  When I arrived at the park's 6 AM pre-dawn opening, I was greeted by a unreasonably peppy toll worker.  He told me that he had been expecting me as he had spotted my headlight a good ten minutes or so before my arrival.  He then went on to try to "up-sell" the park fee to get me to pay $30 for a year long pass, as opposed to the $3 day long fee assessed to cyclists and walkers.  While I declined the offer, despite the cheery delivery in which it was presented to me, I quite honestly would have paid quite a bit more than what amounted to the price of a 24 oz soda purchased that the airport two days earlier. 

Even if I had shelled out the full $30, I still might argue that I got more than my money's worth over the course of the four laps I did over two days.

Perfect Drug

I know some would argue that using iPhone earbuds somehow amounts to sacrilege against the beauty of mother nature, but lately I've succumbed to using them to give me a little extra juice while doing intervals.  I'm sure others would say that I'm missing out the glories of the outdoors by focusing on the Watts and not totally soaking up the panoramic vistas at a more leisurely pace.  However, given that I was the only cyclist spinning out on the road, while virtually everyone else in Sin City was still sleeping off the effects of the previous night's debauchery, I'd like to think that I still was taking advantage of the great outdoors more than about 99.999% than anyone else on Tuesday AM.

On second thought, I was in fact indulging in my own form of debauchery.  It must have been more than just a coincidence that the first song up once I pushed away from the toll house was "The Perfect Drug" by NIN.  I have no problems if you want to call me crazy, but despite pushing the limits of my Lactate Threshold for the 20 minutes or so it took to ascend to the height of the loop road, I experienced something akin to a drug like euphoria (Well, to be honest, I'm guessing that is what a drug induced euphoric feeling must be like -- you'd need to ask the some of the people who were sleeping one off to confirm).

As I neared the top of the loop for the 2nd time, I entered a switchback that had me circumnavigate what seemed like a half of the outer edge of a bowl.  My legs were searing from the acid buildup, yet I know if anyone else had been on the road at the time, they surely would have been scratching their heads, wondering why the crazy cyclist had such an evil looking smile on his face. 

The reason for my insanity was a magical sensory overload.  I entered the switchback just as Led Zepplin slowed things down on Dazed and Confused, and my vision narrowly focused on the moon hanging over the snow capped peaks.  Then, as the guitar solo started to pick up (in a way that always reminds me of how it must have felt as ancient pagans attempted to conjur the gods during a wild dance), four deer bounded into view and then ascended off to my right, up the hill with grace that I had never associated with an animal before.  Finally, as I finished the turn, the brilliant sunshine came around the corner, nearly blinding me.  It was if Jimmy Page had incinerated his guitar during the final moments of the solo, and somehow Steve Job's genius had provided an iPhone option to convert the fire-like sounds into a visual image. 

Unfortunately for you, I think my clumsy word selection fails to remote capture that feeling I had out there on the roads of Vegas.  But, because I've tasted the sweat drug-like combination of great views, hard rocking music, and awe inspiring view, I'm sure I'll be lured into repeat doses for the Utah portion of our vacation, so perhaps I'll have another crack (pun intended) at finding the right words to get closer to the feeling of euphoria.

The moon looks a lot smaller when viewed through an iPhone.  Apologies for the poor photo quality as only learned that the batteries were dead on my real camera when I pulled it out of my jacket.

The only person to beat me to the height of Red Rock Canyon 

How ironic that on such a crisp clear day I only had a fuzzy camera

Sweating in an Ice Box

Layers

I became vaguely aware this weekend of signs of spring's arrival.  Sunlight still danced in the sky when I finished work on Friday; a Bethel crit circled on my calendar to kick-off my 2011 racing stands now just a scant six weeks away; and yesterday marked the introduction of Lactate Threshold intervals into the training mix for the first time in five months.  Those hints of spring stood in stark contrast though to the 13 F reading on the thermometer and 3 feet of snow in the backyard, and that conflict caused me to weigh the pros and cons of venturing outside to do the day's work-out.

I really wasn't thrilled with the prospects of doing LT efforts up on the Trainer, but I also was none too excited to lose a finger or two to frostbite.  I can't remember the last time I had been out on the roads with the temps below 15 F, and with the few times I had gone out this season at sub 25 F, I always had returned with fingers that took nearly an hour to thaw before I could feel the tips.  Yet numb fingers seemed the lesser of two evils as compared to a brain numbed by intervals in my office, so I decided to dig deep into Mrs D's clothing bins to see what extra layers I might find to help fend off Old Man Winter.

I don't particularly like the ratio of prep work and post-ride clean-up to actual riding time I logged yesterday.  By my estimates, the time spent dressing before, and then undressing afterwards, plus the time spent in the frigid garage washing down the salt and grime off of my bike was at least half as long as the two hours spent actually cranking out the intervals on the hills of Glastonbury.  And that doesn't include the time that the Mrs today will spend washing the:

• 2 pairs of socks
• Booties
• Gloves, lobster gloves, and mittens
• Tights
• Base layer, wool shirt, Expo jacket, and winter jacket
• Balaclava and wool hat
• (not to be washed by the Mrs, of course, are the ski goggles and Grabber hand/foot warmers)

In spite of all of the hassle, I have to say in retrospect I made the right decision as I had discovered just enough new layers such that the brutal cold was never really a factor yesterday.  In fact, I returned from yesterday's ride feeling over heated and dripping with sweat!  While I spent a good chunk of time after the ride undressing and cleaning, I lost no time waiting for the feeling to return to my extremities.

Would the new found layers get me through the negative double digit wind chills predicted for today or tomorrow?  I don't know yet if I'll be brave enough to try that experiment.  However, I can say for sure though that if the thermoter reads 10 F or more, you likely won't find me up in my office anymore if the plan calls for an interval work-out.