Broken Wrist, Broken Dream?

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

I am bummed right now. Everything I have done since July 12, 2008, was to prepare myself for Newton’s Revenge* on July 11, 2009. A 42-mile Bike to Work Day ride may have ended that today when I crashed and broke at least my wrist. Even if the cast is off in time my fitness will be shot.

I made it up the “Rockpile” last year, albeit badly, and Mary Power, the Mount Washington Auto Road Events Director told me it gets in your blood. And it does.

I started walking the 12 floors each morning to my office rather than riding the elevator. I was committed to dropping 12 pounds to a more favorable climbing weight of 160. And I was down to 164 – the lowest of my adult life.

Broken Wrist

I hadn’t yet made the changes to the front ring but was planning to drop it to a serious climbing gear of 24 teeth. I bought a set of lighter wheels perfect for climbing. Last year I was one of the few riders who rode the race in a standard factory setup with no gear modifications. This year was going to be different. It had to be different.

I started a training program designed to increase my power. And after the first week of workouts, it may have been working. I noticed that this morning I averaged 20 mph to Occoquan over 6.5 miles. I wondered if I was already getting a benefit.

In the past three weekends, I rode the Blue Ridge Ramble, Blue Knob Ski Resort, and a classic ride from Myersville, Md. to Pennsylvania and back, Happy Happy Pain Pain. I was feeling good.

And I was feeling great today.

Road bikes are designed for the road. And roads are usually straight with gradual curves and grades, Mount Washington being an exception. Not so much these bike paths. Unfortunately, bike paths are often squeezed into spaces where roads don’t fit. They fly up and over existing roadways or tunnel under highways. They can have steeper than normal grades and sharper turns.

I had followed the Washington & Old Dominion (W&OD) trail to the Custis Trail. The Custis Trail goes through Rosslyn in Arlington Co. then descends down to the Mount Vernon Trail. At this point I was 38 miles into my Bike To Work Day ride, I came upon this descent and let the bike roll. I was going 20 mph when I saw a sharp turn to the left. Overnight rains had left a gooey mess of mud and moss mixed in with some sand and gravel.

I used my rear brake to slow the bike for the curve ahead but the tire slid in the muck. I released the brake and leaned and steered the bike through the turn. My momentum took the bike through the curve and the wheels slipped out from under me.

I hit the asphalt real hard and went sliding across it until I came to a stop. I could feel road rash on my left thigh and could see it on my leg. One thing to be thankful for: shaved legs. Without hair ripping out more skin, the damage to my leg was relatively minor in comparison to the rest of my body.

I unclipped and saw the blood on my hand and could feel that my wrist hurt. A couple of riders came by and asked if I was hurt. I told them I was. They kept going.

I brushed myself off, poured water on my hand and legs to get most of the dirt off, then rode four more miles to work. More than half the time I held my arm like a broken wing and rode with one hand. It hurt to put the injured hand on the handlebars.

At work, I got some assistance in the Fitness Center in taking off my jersey and in cleaning up. I then went to my office (via elevator — this was the first day I didn’t take the stairs). I worked for about 15 minutes before deciding the emergency room visit was necessary.

Now I face the question of what’s next. Six weeks in a cast will take me to June 30. If I am off the bike until then there is no way I will have the fitness or climbing legs to make Mount Washington. I am really bummed right now.

Monday I go for a hard cast. I haven’t been told how serious the break is or if there is more than one. If I can ride a trainer during this time it won’t be the same as being on the road but there’s still a chance. My only chance now is to be able to ride a trainer…


A Windy Blair Witch

RANSON, WEST VIRGINIA

Visiting Ashley in Ranson, West Virginia, I decided to head out for a ride along the basic route of the South Mountain Loop, a 37-mile route for hybrids or mountain bikes, which originates in Brunswick, Maryland. Only one problem presented itself: I rode the route just once six years ago and would attempt to ride it from memory. I did pretty well, only missing one turn which I would do differently.

The day was cold and windy. Winds were constant at 20-30 mph with higher gusts. Temperatures were in the mid-30s to start and only climbed to near 50º (10º C) by the end of the ride. Everywhere there was a headwind. I don’t know how this could be but it was.

Instead of starting in Brunswick, I started in Ranson and followed US 340. When I crossed the Shenandoah River just upriver from Harpers Ferry, I turned on Chestnut Hill Road. From 340, Chestnut Hill Road looks almost impossible to drive up and does look impossible to bike up. But on a bike is where magic happens.

I turned the corner and kept climbing higher and higher. The GPS showed 12% then 14% then 18%. When it “leveled” off to 4% I decided to turn around and go back to the route I had planned. I descended at 45 mph. I could have gone faster but there was a stop sign, heavy traffic, a guard rail, and the Potomac River at the bottom.

I followed US 340 into and out of Virginia and across the Potomac River into Maryland. I passed beautiful farmland to Burkittsville, the location of the horror movie, The Blair Witch Project. It’s a lovely little village and I can’t say I saw any witches. But who really knows for sure? They don’t all look like Elphaba.

Welcome to Burkittsville

Out of Burkittsville, I climbed a ridge road along South Mountain before being dropped back into the valley then climbing up Reno Monument Road. At the base of Reno Monument Road is a large, slightly unkempt house on the left. You know, the kind where a huge dog is lurking ready to attack. Outriding dogs can present their own adrenaline rush but I’m not going to out pedal a dog while going up a 20% hill.

My dogdar (that’s like radar to detect dogs) was on full alert mainly because when I rode this six years ago I was chased by a big dog at this house. Yes – you remember those things.

I was quietly pedaling, not shifting gears, and generally trying to avoid disturbing any creatures who may live there. And then I saw him. A huge dog but I’m not sure of his breed.

And he saw me. Or she saw me. I didn’t want to get close enough to check.

The dog came flying across the yard and I dismounted and started being really nice. There was no way I was going to flee and kick in the dog’s chase mentality. I was on the right side of the road and the dog was to the left. I hoped that he wouldn’t come across the road at me. I walked a little saying stupid things he couldn’t understand like “nice puppy.” This completely killed my average speed for the day too. I should have paused the Garmin.

My break came when just as the dog was coming out of his yard a car came down the hill and almost hit it. Brakes squealed, the driver stopped and I used the car as a shield to sneak away.

Reno Hill kicked up to 20% but it was a relatively short climb. At the summit, there are some Civil War markers and a “Private Road” sign which invited me to ride.

Burkittsville, Md.

I turned left and was riding the very summit of South Mountain. A one-lane paved road with no traffic was great. I wondered where the road would end. I thought it was a U.S. Park Service one-lane road which perhaps made a loop. The grade was great for climbing. A lot of 12% with even higher numbers as well. After two miles I came to a dead end. Some government installation. Some secret government installation. I smiled for the cameras and turned around.

Back to the main road, I descended into the valley on the east side of the mountain. I missed the road that would have taken me to Chestnut Ridge and down to Harpers Ferry. But Rte 67 has a very wide shoulder and was a nice run into Brunswick.

As I approached Brunswick I saw the last road on the right and thought it would be fun to take it to Harpers Ferry if that’s where it went. It didn’t. It was a heck of a climb and ultimately I realized I was climbing for no reason that the road would not cross the mountain. I was right. I made a loop right back to Rte 67. Bonus miles.

I was not prepared for the distance with the climbing on this day. Or the wind. I climbed almost 6,000 vertical feet. Other than a small packet of Sport Beans (by Jelly Belly), I had no food and I ran out of water. I bonked and the thought of climbing back out of the river valley was too much. I pulled out my cell phone but no one answered my distress call.

My emergency funds consisted of two dollars in my saddlebag and were used to purchase a Snickers bar at the Exxon Station at the base of Harpers Ferry Road. Hunger solved. I made the 2-mile climb up the US 340 past Harpers Ferry to the plateau with ease.


The stats don’t show the entire trip because I reset the Garmin nine miles into the ride so I rode close to 66 miles. It was a good day but very tiring.

These Guys Are Fast

RESTON, VIRGINIA

Sitting in the auditorium at South County H.S. in Lorton, Va., yesterday at our annual high school soccer referee clinic, I kept looking outside wanting to ride instead. It was unseasonably warm (low 60s — 16ºC) and I hadn’t ridden in more than three weeks. Following the Steelers on their run to the Super Bowl was worth it all though.

Although there were rides listed on the Potomac Pedalers site, I trekked up to Reston to ride with Evolution Cycling Team. One thing that was different about today — I was on time. So rather than jump on the rear, I actually asked if I could ride with them. One warned me they ride at an A pace — or something like that. I nodded.

There were six of them and one of me. We headed out towards Great Falls. On the way, we were on a lightly traveled road and they wanted to ride a paceline. That was my first time in a true paceline. My summer rides with DC Velo is more me hanging on the back but this was a single paceline, all moving up in unison then falling off. The riders were gracious to this old rookie.

Once we got to Great Falls we broke apart a little. There were some steep descents and steep climbs. The one woman in the group, Tanya, had a hard time matching pace, especially on the descents. But she was a strong rider. Maybe not quite as strong as the others.

Then Tanya was already behind the 8-ball for the next climb. As long as they were waiting for her I could hang in there.

Eventually, I sensed they wanted to go faster without Tanya and without me. But they would never suggest that. She told me she didn’t have legs going out or back today and I felt I didn’t either. Although I’d been riding indoors, it’s not the same as being out on the bike.

We were near the end when Tanya and I headed over to the W&OD trail and let the others go flying on without us. It was a good ride but I wonder why I think I can ride with the guys 20 years (or more) younger than me.


Garmin Stats (note that I forgot to start the computer at the start)

It Smells Warm

RESTON, VIRGINIA

Fool that I am, I returned to Reston to ride with either The Bike Lane or Evolution Cycling. Perhaps because it was overcast, it seemed colder than last week and the numbers showed. They were way down.  

Like last week, stopping for gas and food left me dangerously close to missing the start of the ride. I rolled up just as four riders were rolling out. One woman was left in front of the dark Bike Lane store telling me she was waiting for their group ride. Instantly I determined, correctly, that there would be no ride from The Bike Lane today and made my decision to catch the Evo boys leaving on the trail.  

Although temperatures were in the low to mid-30s for most of the ride, the low overnight temperatures and some rain during the week left some ice patches on the W&OD. But they presented no problems.  

What was neat was that we started out with five riders and actually picked up riders along the route eventually getting up to 10. We rode on the W&OD until we could get safely off onto other roads and streets.  

Almost immediately I wondered why I had come back. We were in a paceline of 10 riders rolling along at 23 mph on a 3% uphill grade. There is no way, even by being paced, that I could keep this pace. I was afraid I might have to excuse myself. But we took turns pacing at the front and once the strong leader dropped off another rider took over and I didn’t have problems staying with the group again.  

Out of Leesburg towards Hamilton, we climbed Dry Mill Road, in the process dropped a rider aptly named “Turtle.” At the top of the climb, where Virginia Routes 7 and 9 intersect, we waited. Eventually, Turtle came and then graciously announced that he would ride the trail back and not hold us up.  

It was actually amazing that I jumped in with this racing team and hung with them. At the same time, one of their riders could not keep pace.

We headed out through Hamilton, out Harmony Church Road, and back towards Leesburg. I was able to hang on with these racers most of the way. Leaving Hamilton we could smell the fire from a fireplace burning nearby. One of the riders said, “it smells warm.”

I never thought something could smell warm — we’re mixing the sense of touch with the sense of smell — but I could agree with him. I’d love to be inside feeling the warmth of the fire.  

The route today would encompass more than 60 miles. I noticed after 50 miles that when we had moderate climbs of 2-3% grade that I had difficulty keeping up with the group. Usually, I would drop 10, 20, or 50 meters behind only to catch them on the other side.   

The Evolution is a Cycling Racing team, most are younger riders and these old legs just don’t have the recovery in them to be able to spin up these moderate climbs. The steep climbs are different because everyone is working hard but these lesser grades are ones where the younger riders can sit and spin and after 50 miles I have difficulty.  

Maybe it’s the old legs or maybe it’s that I still suck at nutrition on the bike. I had one energy bar with me but didn’t open it. Stupid.  

Without about five miles to go, I sat up for a moment while a couple of riders dropped off to go home. I lost contact with our remaining riders. Mostly they were never more than 100-200 meters ahead but that is still dropped.  

I felt my energy level drop. I hadn’t eaten on the ride and should have and fumbled around to find the energy bar. I felt a little better after ingesting it and rolled on back alone to the start/finish.  

Not sure where the rest of the winter takes me. I’d like to ride with Evolution more but every Saturday between now and mid-March is booked and then begins soccer season. I was asked to join the team and race with them but feel that I would probably bring them down.  

I was feeling bad about not being able to stay with what was left with the group but Adam, back at The Bike Lane, reminded me that these are racers who log base miles every Saturday and Sunday plus are younger too. As I read in Bicycling magazine once, when you feel a little discouraged about not keeping up with the Cat 2 and Cat 3 riders, take a stroll in the Mall and compare yourself to those guys.    


You say you want an Evolution

RESTON, VIRGINIA

You say you want a revolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it’s evolution
Well you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction

Don’t you know you can count me out
–The Beetles

I didn’t ride on New Year’s Day, missing out on Potomac Pedaler’s “I’ve Ridden Every Day This Year” ride. It was cold and windy on New Year’s Day in the morning although not as bad as New Year’s Eve. We had winds sustained at 35 mph and gusting to 50 mph. My mailbox post was a victim. When I arrived home from work both the mailbox and post were on the ground so that became my New Year’s Day project.

I left the house this morning after 8:00 and WTOP Radio reported it was 23º (-5ºC) in Manassas. Cold. I drove up to Reston to ride with the group ride that leaves from The Bike Lane at Reston Town Center. I was running late and arrived at exactly 9:00 a.m.

I quickly parked in the parking garage and put the wheels on my bike. I rolled out of the garage at about three, maybe four, minutes after 9:00, turned the corner, and saw the group heading out. I rolled past The Bike Lane to catch the group. Funny, as I did I saw 3-4 bikes parked outside The Bike Lane.

I caught the group as we rolled through some bike paths out to the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. Adam (The Bike Lane group leader) normally doesn’t take the group on the WOD, I thought, but was willing to concede that either he decided on a cold winter Saturday it wouldn’t be crowded or this somehow was the wrong group.

Could there be two 9:00 rides leaving from The Bike Lane? Even if there were, it was too late to go back and find Adam. I hung on the back of the group — they were flying — and finally asked someone if this was Adam’s ride. No one seemed to know although there were no Bike Lane jerseys in this group. But lots of white ones.

I was told that I had joined the Evolution Cycling Club’s training ride but that I was welcome to hang on. And I did. I asked how far they were going and I was told — 80 miles. Yikes. It was a nice day, if 23º was “nice,” but I hadn’t brought any water (intending to fill up inside The Bike Lane) and no food. And no money for a stop at a store. It’s not good to ride that far with no nutrition. Oh well.

The ride was relatively easy as long as I was hanging on the rear. We went through Ashburn then to Leesburg. After Leesburg, we climbed our first long hill. It wasn’t that difficult but one learns the perils of hanging in the rear.

I wasn’t having any problems keeping on the wheel of the rider in front of me. But he was. A gap opened halfway up the hill and the first half of the group crested the hill a good 150 meters ahead of our group. In a race that’s when they attack but this wasn’t a race. Still, once we reached the top we had two separate groups out on the country roads. The gap widened more.

I finally broke free to pass a number of riders and tried to bridge to the front group. For a while, I was in “no man’s land” about 250 meters behind the lead group and 250 meters ahead of the trail group. I had no one working with me. After being stuck here a rider finally bridged to me and the two of us then worked out way up to the leaders.

We stopped at a store in Hamilton where some bladder-challenged riders, including me, made our way behind the store for a visit to some trees. Here we also broke the ride into groups and when we left there were nine of us. It was nine that we should have ended with.

We rode for a while longer until we came to a moderate climb. One of the riders, in the middle of what was supposed to be a paceline, was having difficulty climbing and we all passed him. When we crested he was way back and we waited for him at the light on Va. 9 at Paeonian Springs.

Our ride leader, a guy named “Chicken” then decided we would have some fun descending on Dry Mill Road to Leesburg. We would break into teams and try to box other riders out at high descending speeds — generally about 35 mph. Say what?

What the heck. We took off and formed our teams. We had only gone a couple of miles when we lost our trail rider again. Chicken went back for him and was going to show him the direct way back — the WOD. Chicken came back to us but reported that he couldn’t find him. I felt bad and was going to offer to ride with him but he had disappeared. We were down to eight.

We continued on and while descending, one of the guys in front of me went off the road. His tire hit the shoulder and three of us had to quickly maneuver so as not to join him. That also killed our descent. We regrouped, didn’t get any sprint points, and made it back to Leesburg.

Passing through Leesburg I was told Chicken peeled off although I didn’t see him. At a cross street, I saw another rider leave. And I missed another one bailing because we were down to five.

Another rider and I moved to the front and did a monster pull for about 3-4 miles. What was I doing pulling these 30-year-olds home? Eventually, we let the trail riders lead and we would follow their wheels.

The five of us returned to Reston and I got to go into The Bike Lane and told Adam why I wasn’t able to join him today. He just laughed. Unlike three weeks ago, I was able to hang and at least one other rider wasn’t.

I was told that the Evolution ride was a closed ride but no one on the ride took exception to me being there. In fact, many introduced themselves and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. I don’t plan on racing because I don’t have time but I am thinking about joining this racing club. It was a great day for cycling!

And the First Shall be Last

RESTON, VA

Some days you have it, some days you don’t. Today I didn’t.

It was cold but I wanted to ride. It’s easier if you commit to meeting people so I called Adam Lewandowski at The Bike Lane last night to see if they would be riding in the morning. He said they would. It seems silly to drive 45 minutes to join a group ride but that’s what I did. I pulled in just as they were departing and asked if they would wait for me. They did. There were eight of them.

It was 28º (-3º C) and I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bike, and rolled up with them. I caught them outside the mini-skating rink at the Reston Town Center where two teams of 8-9-year-olds were playing ice hockey. Cute.

We rolled out and kept a good pace. Think about the guys that want to go riding when it’s below freezing. There aren’t too many recreational types here. Well, I was. I overheard one guy talking about his personal cycling coach. I didn’t quite understand that.

Still, we kept together for most of the ride but on one fairly long climb the pack pulled ahead of me by 50-100 meters and I couldn’t close the gap. I could catch them at the traffic lights but there were two places on the course of 30 miles (48 km) where my legs just weren’t keeping up. Disheartening.

It dawned on me that the night before around 9:00 p.m. that I did 40 minutes on the stepper machine. I mentioned that to Adam and he opined that would kill my legs for sure. I simply had no recovery at 9:00 a.m. in the cold. Whatever it was, I was the slowpoke today.

It doesn’t usually happen but we’ve all had those days — at least all of us who aren’t doping have had those days. It was cold. It was still fun, but a little disheartening.

Mason Neck Meander

LORTON, VIRGINIA

For most of the early Fall, I could not join a group ride on the weekends. Every Saturday I had refereeing, either mentoring/observing or attending clinics. I refereed travel games more this Fall than in the past so my Sundays were shot too.

Yesterday was a teaching day but today was wide open. Next weekend is the NVSC Fall Classic tournament and my referee assignments are from 8 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. on each day. If I could get a group ride in it would have to be today.

I left the house at 8:30 to gas up, intending to head out to Middleburg for a ride in Loudoun County. The wind was shaking the van and I hadn’t confirmed with the ride leader. I was unsure whether once I got to Middleburg there would even be a ride. I filled up the tank ($1.779 per gallon) and then went home knowing there was another ride a little later and a little closer.

After getting home I got the information for the Mason Neck Meander. It was described as a leisurely ride through the Mason Neck area and surrounding neighborhoods, with only a few climbs. It was rated a “C” which is slower than I normally ride but you can’t always find the perfect group.

We met at 11:00 a.m. at Gunston Elementary School. Temperatures were in the low to mid 40s and winds were gusting to 30 mph. The trip leader looked at me and said “you look like you ride faster than us so if you want to go ahead you can.” I’d rather not.

Some people enjoy following cue sheets while I would prefer not to. I don’t mind pulling (being the leader) if someone is behind me navigating.

There were six of us. I slipped in behind the leader and followed at second wheel for about eight miles. He then pulled over and three of us went ahead using our cue sheets. The route was a nice ride. It is mostly flat and in heavy woods. A lot of the road were covered in leaves. For much of the route we were next to the Potomac River, or next to homes that were next to the Potomac.

We followed a route that took us through the neighborhoods before taking us into Mason Neck Park. The three of us were ready to leave the park after a short restroom break when the trailing three joined us. We left together with eight miles back to the start of a 21-mile ride.

As I was leading I looked behind me to see who was on my wheel. To my surprise, no one was. I was riding a bit too fast for them to hang on and this was in the flat in the park. I was by myself in the “lead.” I would have to solo home to “victory.”

The last seven miles had some climbs and was all wind. The wind was strong and in my face. I had no help. I just kept working, into the wind. The wind was so strong that I could not hear cars approaching from the rear. Sometimes I thought there was a car behind me and it was just the wind. Other times the wind was so strong I never heard a car coming.

Once I had soloed for about four miles I took a peek. I couldn’t see anyone. I kept going, even as I was picking up the pace. I arrived back but forgot to celebrate as I was first across the line.

I probably then violated the unwritten rule of group rides. It’s OK to solo ahead, even to victory, but one should wait and say goodbye at the end. Be nice and say thanks to the leader for organizing the ride. But I looked back, there was no one anywhere in sight, and football was starting in 22 minutes.

For a day, a cold and windy day, my breakaway worked.


Alpha Male For a Day

REMINGTON, VIRGINIA

What a weird group ride today. I must say it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was advertised as a 48-mile “follow the leader” ride. Instead of everyone having a cue sheet and eventually riding their own pace, this one forced everyone to follow the leader.

I showed up at the school near Culpeper and looked at the riders. I thought I was much too strong. To be fair, the ride was classified as a “CC” ride (12-14 mph) which is slower than my normal pace. But it was the only one I could find on this Labor Day weekend. I figured I would work on keeping my speed slow and my cadence high.

There was one guy pretty overweight (kudos for riding and trying to shed pounds) and another who smoked before, after, and during breaks. I did not see him smoke on the ride though.

The trip leader announced that he had forgotten his riding shoes. No one had a wrench to remove his pedals so he couldn’t go with us. The designated leader had been only been on parts of the ride before. The “sweep” made it be known we would have to wait for him.

There were no hills of note on the route but there were plenty of “rollers” here in the Piedmont. We crossed numerous streams and had an excellent view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Throughout the day when we came to any of the hills, I found myself going off the front and banging up the hills. I would sometimes sit up on the descent to let others catch me and sometimes just got in my tuck and enjoyed the speed. Top speed: 40 mph.

Often the best conversation starter on a group ride is a great jersey. And none is better than my Newton’s Revenge jersey. Maybe not surprisingly, no one, and there were 11 of us, ever mentioned it. But when I wear the jersey I hope it gives me wings to fly up the hills. I owe that much to the jersey.

In the early part of the ride, the group stayed together. But as they got tired, or as we got tired going at a slow pace and picked it up at the front, huge gaps began to develop. So that no one got lost, at every turn someone would have to wait at each intersection for the end of the group. Usually, I would stop and wait, sometimes up to five minutes.

Once everyone safely made the turn I would bridge back to the front, often with the leaders more than a mile ahead at that point. That made taking what was a slow-paced ride very enjoyable by giving me my own challenge of bridging through the group.

Our first rest stop was at a country store. One man was cooking BBQ — the ribs and chicken looked and smelled delicious. If I hadn’t been on a bike I would have loved to have bought something to eat then or take home. As we finished our break, we were warned of a very bad hill ahead. “It is a mile long.”

Whoa. A mile hill. I almost pointed to my jersey and said, “Now this is a hill!” But I didn’t. I just let my climbing do the talking. And if climbing Mount Washington doesn’t give one inspiration for any climb, last week our first major climb at the Blue Ridge Extreme was 18 miles. I had no problem zipping to the top. It was 0.7 mile.

For one day, one ride, everyone was looking at this old guy as the leader. Every hill, and every flat, remember, I bridged the group throughout the day, I was the one who went through the group to the front. I will claim only second fastest on the descent though as one rider was on a recumbent and he had the aero advantage, and probably 50 pounds too. We rode together a few weeks earlier on a ride out of Nokesville and he and I finished “first” on the day, out of about 30 riders. We would finish 1-2 again today, with me being the first back to the school.

I am reminded to something Phil Gaimon wrote a few weeks earlier. When he won a local crit in New York, he angered a number of folks when he wrote that he didn’t beat anyone, meaning the top pros weren’t in the race. When he won the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hill Climb two weeks ago he more carefully wrote that the big boys were in Utah and the guys he beat all had families, 9-5 jobs, rode tandems, and were in age from 9-75. He was being humble for winning but recognized that his best competition wasn’t there.

There are just too many events that I registered for where my competition is the big boys. The people I rode with today don’t compete in the hill climb up Mount Washington or the Blue Ridge Extreme Century. One young lady was looking forward to her first metric century (63 miles). On a hybrid bike.

Too many times I am comparing my finishes to the Phil Gaimon’s and the college boys who smoke these events. I am both relieved and excited at finishing while being disappointed that my times often are in the bottom 25% or even 10%.

Every once in awhile a ride with a lesser group, CC in this case, is good for the ego. I do get dropped occasionally if the boys at Hains Point put the hammer down. They ride an A pace and I can barely keep up but do manage most of the time. But if they want to drop me, they can.

I am reminded what was published in Bicycling about magazine in Jan/Feb 2008 (page 48) about getting discouraged. “When you feel like your fitness has a long way to go, stop comparing yourself with other cyclists. Go to the mall and compare yourself with other Americans. You feel better now, right?

I spend way too much time being disappointed I am near the last of the finishers up Mount Washington or across the Blue Ridge. But today’s ride also reminds me that compared to most Americans, and even most other cyclists, I sometimes can be the Alpha Male. At least for a day.


Sperryville, Luray, and Skyline Drive

SPERRYVILLE, VIRGINIA

It was back to Sperryville for an almost repeat of Friday’s ride. It was cool, perhaps 68°. I headed off and only went 200 yards and thought I might need a jacket. I went back to the car. I wasn’t worried about climbing as I knew my body heat would be enough. It was the descent I worried about as I didn’t want to get too cool.

I headed off a second time. I had gone just 200 yards and realized I didn’t have my heart monitor. I am learning to play with my Garmin Edge 705 and the heart rate monitor is part of it. I want to see what my body was doing as I was climbing. Back to the car.

The third time was a charm. I headed out for the seven-mile climb to the top. The first two to three miles are at two percent grade before the road turns up.

On Friday I never went lower than my 4th sprocket so I figured I had to match that today as well. That has 19 teeth and I can go to my lowest gear which has 27 teeth. I am hoping that what the run-up to Skyline Drive lacks in grade (6-7% mostly) that going in a higher gear will offset.

I’m hoping.

Unlike Friday I didn’t have water running down the road at me and thunder and lightning near me. There were no weather distractions so one could think about the ride up the mountain.

Supposed to be a view of Old Rag Mountain from here

As I crested the top a motorcyclist passing in the other direction gave me a huge thumbs up. It is nice to be recognized.

I switched into the big ring for my ride down the mountain to Luray. Technically I didn’t go all the way to Luray. Although I was prepared to when the road passed the National Park Headquarters it flattened out to a four-lane divided highway with a speed limit of 55 mph. I didn’t need that. I came to climb, not ride another mile or two of flat roads, so I turned around and began my climb back to the summit.

This one was a four-mile climb. I didn’t have any difficulty but there were times I wanted to switch to a lower gear than 19 teeth. But I didn’t.

I reached the summit then paid $8.00 to ride on the Skyline Drive. I wanted to go south at least as far as the tunnel which came in a mile or a mile and a half. It was very foggy here and I had no lights on me. I was worried about being seen in the tunnel but I went. No cars came behind me while I was in the tunnel.

As with much of my riding, my new goal became to ride until the road turns downward. That would be about five miles by my estimate. I just kept climbing. When I finally reached the high point, I turned around for the crazy descent back to Earth.

I love roller coasters but the thrill of descending at high speeds, around corners and just straight away on a bike is better than ANY coaster I have ever been on. This is the WEEEEEEEE! moment that makes climbing pays off.

In short order, I was back to the Skyline Drive entrance and then back on U.S. 211 East to Sperryville. Although I had cars behind me, no one caught me until I had descended four miles and the road flattened out a bit.

It was a great ride. My Garmin unit measured my distance and 32.5 miles over 4,200 hundred vertical feet of climbing.


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