A Crashy Christmas Century

What better day than Christmas to ride 100 miles on Pacific Coast Highway? Everyone would be at home, leaving the often creepy road all to me and coachubby and our friend Aaron. I somehow talked them into riding with me.

Little did we know that this Christmas, the battle wouldn't be against cars, but against each other.

Coachubby and I rolled out from our tiny apartment (whose 1920s wiring got so upset the day before when coachubby put oatmeal in the microwave while I blow-dried my hair that it cut the power altogether) at 6:20am to meet up with Aaron at 6:30 by the Hermosa Beach pier.

The only other people awake were the under-10 crowd, who couldn't wait to rip open wrapping paper, and cops. Lots of cops.

To avoid going straight down Pier Avenue as usual, where the cops are most likely to be hiding, I suggested we take 8th street. We didn't want to ride with lights since the sun would be up in 20 minutes anyway, and twilight had already begun.

Coachubby and I turned left onto 8th street. Then, at the next stop sign, with no warning, coachubby turned straight into me and went down. We had been riding for all of 30 seconds.

The next 5 hours of the ride were a battle royale between me and my brain. I didn't sleep the night before because I was congested, but there was no way I was missing my own Christmas Century. I hadn't ridden 100 miles since RAO (Race Across Oregon--in early July) and I would never see such beautiful riding conditions for months to come--50s and perfectly sunny. Add that to the likeliness that very few people would be driving down PCH and I had to make it to Big Rock. (A big rock on PCH just past Point Mugu, exactly 50 miles from Hermosa Beach. See below.)

But my body was pissed. A return to Beefcake spinning on the 24th at Hermosa's 24 Hour Fitness left my legs feeling like jelly, and my sinuses infected. Gyms are gross like that.

It was all I could do to hold on to Aaron's or coachubby's wheel. Yes, I was that guy--I couldn't take a pull if I wanted to, unless the dudes felt like riding 12 mph. But Aaron had a family to get to in Orange County, and my parents were driving to Hermosa from Phoenix and would be at my place in the afternoon. Slow was not an option.

I was elated when we made it back to the strand in Santa Monica. This is where you know you've made it. You're off PCH, you haven't been squished, and most of the ride home is on a designated bike path where the only obstacles are rollerbladers and oblivious powerwalkers--not to be discounted, but still not as scary as 4,000 lbs of rolling metal.

Then it happened.

Coachubby and Aaron stopped at a stop sign in Venice Beach while I was daydreaming in my stuffy head.

I ran smack into coachubby.

It was my first crash ever. (If you don't count when I fell over going uphill.) And a lame one at that. And of course, I had an audience--a young couple on the corner stared in confusion. And yes, I was wearing a Stanford jersey. Way to represent.

I popped my right foot out of the pedal and stepped it down before rolling onto my right side. The Silver Bullet and I were unscathed. The F-Bomb (Coachubby's tri bike) was not. I bent his rear wheel, and his fancy-schmancy aero-positioned brakes wouldn't open up enough so he could ride home without major rubbage. But he still pulled me back to Hermosa. What a perfect husband!

We made it back in 5 hours and 45 minutes. Not too shabby. Aaron made it back without getting run into by coachubby or me. And I made it back just in time to eat all of the appetizers I had set out for my parents' arrival. D'oh!

But there were consequences to be paid for riding sick--even it it was Christmas. Even if it was the most beautiful day ever. Even if I had a fabulous little squad to ride with.

Come time for Christmas dinner, I felt like my brain was trying to pop my eyes out of my head. And so, I write this now from the slopes of Heavenly, while the rest of my family--and coachubby's--tears it up.

Of course, I'll be out there tomorrow. No matter what.

Coming up: The Origins of the Phrase "Pain in the Butt"

5 Tips for Long, Cold Bike Rides

Score! It's sunny!
Boo! It's freezing!

It has been deceptively cold in LA these past few weeks, but people on a mission (Ironman, road races, whatever) are still heading out in droves to get their bike training in and they seem to be enjoying themselves.

How is this possible? They have figured out how to dress for the weather, which, at 45-55 degrees, is really not that bad, especially if you compare it to, oh I don't know, the current weather in Madison.

If you've been frostbitten one too many times trying to ride in 50-ish degree weather, you're not alone. It wasn't too long ago that severe "cold wuss" syndrome had me on my trainer way more than I ever wanted to be.

A distaste for working out inside and an REI gift card brought about a quick transformation.

If one of the only reasons you enjoy working out is to be one with the outdoors, it's time to get on the layering bandwagon and back in the peloton. Here are 5 tips to keep you warm and happy for your cold-weather rides, even if they last 10+ hours.

1. LAYER- Under shirt, jersey, arm warmers, leg warmers, wind jacket, wind vest, skull cap, booties / toe warmers, thick socks, thick gloves. It sounds like a lot, but in spandex form, it isn't. Layering will ensure you have enough to keep you warm on descents and at the start of your ride.
2. Wear a CAMELBAK- If you sweat profusely out of your head (like coachubby) or hands (like coachubby) or all over the place (like coachubby) you might want a second pair of gloves, probably don't want a skull cap at all, and ought to carry a second jersey. These, along with the gallons of gatorade you're going to drink on a monster long ride, can easily be stored in a Camelbak like this MULE. (Be warned, though, your buddies will want to stuff their extra clothes in it, too, when they realize their pockets aren't enough for food and shedding layers.)
3. Shed and Dress- Shed for climbs or hard efforts, put your clothes back on for descents and high speed cruising. The idea is you don't want to soak your clothes. If you wear them all to go up, you'll turn into a human Popsicle coming down. Purple is not a pretty skin tone on anyone. Except a grape.
   
4. Cover your feet (and head and hands!)- Don't want to spend a fortune on booties? Toe warmers and wool socks (try these!) are a great idea. And if you don't give a hoot about what roadies think about your fashion sense, and would like to cruise by them all warm and happy, make your own booties. Take a pair of old ski socks, cut holes in the bottom for your cleats, and put them on around your shoes. They'll keep your ankles and toes nice and warm and happy--and they'll keep any non-triathlete members of the household involved in financial decisions happy, too.
5. Wear a wind vest- No, it doesn't have to be road-worker orange or yellow, although I am a fan because I have decided to forgo color coordination in favor of visibility. (If someone on the road goes, "Hey, you look like a clown!" smile and be happy that they SAW you instead of hitting you...and then pray they don't hit you for looking like a clown.) It's amazing how such a thin piece of clothing, which can easily be unzipped and stuffed into a pocket (or Camelbak!) can make such a ginormous difference in your comfort, particularly descending. Buy one. You can justify it by saying it's a lot less than a trip to the hospital for hypothermia. Or road rash from crashing because you were shivering so badly.
   

Happy cold weather riding!

Double Century Training--Can Your Brain Handle It?

Crazy ride ideas pop into my head sometimes. This Saturday's extravaganza was no exception.

Thank goodness for coachubby who, in the spirit of maintaining his manhood, can't back down from the crazy rides, and for my girlfriend, Robyn, who will not only help me carry them out, but royally kick my butt while doing so.

Therefore, the rides can't be too nutty, because I'm not the only one out there doing them. (That's called "Ultra Cyclist Logic". I don't know if it's made its way into the Psych books yet...)

When the weather decided not to soak LA on Saturday, as was foreseen earlier last week, the ride was on. We figured it would be about 10 hours of riding, possibly up to 12 hours of being outside.

This time, we had to build on our last DA ride (disappearing a**), adding 1.5 hours of ride time and about 30 miles. (The last time we rode 150 a few weeks ago, it was relatively flat.)

The route: Leaving Redondo, meet up at the Hermosa Beach pier at 6am in the freezing cold dark, then ride up the Strand to PCH to Latigo, up Latigo, descend Kanan, North on PCH to Mulholland, up Mulholland, down Kanan, South on PCH to Latigo, up Latigo, down Mulholland to Cold Creek, up Piuma, down Stunt, then descend Topanga Canyon and back home.

We made our own pre-dawn to after-dusk ride. It ended up being 150 miles, 10.5 hours ride time, 12.5 hours of being outside. (The extra two hours were accumulated dressing/undressing time for descents/ascents...and watter bottle fill ups, and potty stops.)

Nothing tests mental endurance like the last two hours of a ride like Saturday's. It's like channeling the PMS gods. At some point, the mind goes blank, just wants to turn over the pedals, and anything that gets in its way from keeping the body zooming forward gets snapped at, or will snap its last nerve. And that was only 150 miles!

In a moment of sanity pre-ride, we switched out my 11-21 cassette for a 12-25, thus saving my quads from complete destruction as evidenced by their ability to ride again, and scoot me up a mountain trail yesterday.

What is all of this riding for? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Bring it on, Mulholland Challenge!

Also, this Saturday, coachubby, Robyn, and I will be at the Camino Real Double Century in Irvine. Come cheer, or come ride! The way the weather's been (freezing and drizzly) it's a guarantee that I will be wearing pink arm warmers, a blue jersey, acid pee wind vest, purple leg warmers, and possibly homemade booties (ski socks over the shoes with holes cut out of the bottom for cleats.) Roadies love it...Not really. (Photo coming soon.)

ALSO, stay tuned for the grand announcement of what all of this is for, including the double century. (But wait, there's more!)

Happy training and staying warm!

Irvine to San Diego--A Birthday Cycling Extravaganza

When you're a triathlete, "best days ever" are usually described in terms of massive mileage, gallons of sweat lost, and a ridiculous amount of calories consumed.

Enter the birthday ride: a hundred mile social ride with several friends who also happen to have their birthdays within a few weeks of your own. There is no better way to celebrate. And absolutely no other reason to average 9.5 miles an hour on a century ride.

Here's how to make your own birthday ride:

INGREDIENTS:

10 crazy people, half with birthdays within 2 weeks of each other

(ex: 2 bday girls above)

10 bikes

Tons of water

50+ of either PowerBars or Cliff Bars

50+ of either PowerGels, Shot Blocks, Gus, Hammer Gels

Tons of Gatorade, Cytomax, or other powder carbs may be substituted

5 PB & Js

100s of salt pills

Cash

10 valid driver's licenses

10 changes of clothes

10 good attitudes

10 excellently padded cycling shorts

TIME NEEDED: 5-12 hours, depending on the number and skill of aforementioned crazy people involved.

DIRECTIONS:

• Make plans to arrive before 7:30am at Irvine Amtrak station for a 7:30am clip-in time


• Clip in a little after 8am


• Ride 4 miles out in the wrong direction


• Ride 4 miles back to start


• Ride approximately 20 minutes


• Stop at Starbucks to commandeer the 1 restroom available


• Ride approximately 20 more minutes, generously add Gatorade and PowerBars to riders


• Puncture one rider's tire with large nail & washer


• Hang around in shade for 40 minutes, keeping riders' core body temperatures at a comfortable degree


• Ride to a beach town. Revel in gorgeousness and wonder why the beach 60 miles south of you has pretty blue water when your ocean is black. Decide not to think about it because that's nasty. Remind self that down here, people get eaten by sharks because even the sharks don't want to swim where you do.


• Stop for 40 minutes at local bike shop so unfortunate rider #6 can get new tire. Drink more Gatorade and water.


• Ride to the entrance of Camp Pendleton. Get excited to see men in uniform.


• Get unexcited when man in uniform tells you the bike path is closed for military exercises.


• Get excited again realizing that even though you have to ride on the shoulder of the I-5, you'll be riding faster than the current traffic thanks to a strategically placed accident.


• Stop at overlook to check out "military exercises". Remark that it would be cool to see something explode. After nothing explodes, decide it would be cool to ram the port-a-potties with a military Hummer.


• Continue down freeway with your stomach in your throat. Dodge debris. Pretend to be in the Tour de France, and that the cars now whizzing by each carry your very own Johan Bruyneel and support crew.


• Arrive in Oceanside. Prepare for massive lunch break. Call husband to relay the information that you have ridden 50 miles in 5.5 hours. You are awesome.


• Split group into two groups: one of 4, one of 6.


• Send group of 4 onward while letting group of 6 simmer a little longer in Oceanside.


• Every 2-5 miles, make group of 3 stop for 20-40 minutes to wait for straggler.


• Have enraged roadie yell at group of 3 for stopping in his way on the bike path.


• Regroup, then blast by roadie shouting "on your left!" and giving an ironically friendly wave.


• Wonder exactly where Solana Beach is and if you'll see a shark there.


• Remark that Nytro, the triathlon shop you have heard of that is along your route, is a lot dinkier than you thought it'd be.


• Somehow miss Solana Beach entirely, feeling relieved that you went by and lived to tell the tale...even when not swimming.


• Balk at the huge 1.5ish mile climb into Torrey Pines.


• Decide Mission Bay is super cool.


• Decide riding by the San Diego Airport is the most opposite of super cool.


• Celebrate making it downtown to the Amtrak station by adding a 4 mile loop by creepy airport to make it an even 100.


• Feel befuddled that Group of 6 arrives only 10 minutes after you.


• Miss the 6:20pm train back. Acknowledge that you have officially been in the same bike shorts for 10.5 hours--without doing an Ironman. Realize nobody will want to be in your 8pm train car with you.


• Take Amtrak back to Irvine. Watch ticket puncher man hit on your friend.

Happy Social Riding!

PS. On the next page are directions for the Irvine to San Diego ride, should you feel like doing it. If you do it right, it's 88 miles. Mostly good roads. A few sketchy parts through downtown beach town areas (like Oceanside) where there is no bike lane and there are quite a few stop lights. Gorgeous along the coast!

PPS. If you have a large group, make sure to ask for a group discount for the train ride. Our tickets were only $13 per person!

Your First 100 Miles in the Saddle

dddI remember my first 100 mile bike ride...or my first official "Century" ride. I chose the Ojai Valley Double Metric Century so I could stay with my pseudo Grandma, and so I could brag about my endurance bike-riding capabilities. I had SPD mountain biking cleats from 11 years ago, a bike I like to call the "Silver Bullet" (the paint is all stripped off so it's incognito), and 5 Luna Bars stuffed in my pockets and my little bike bag.

Mistake #1: Luna Bars--especially the chocolate kind, which is the only kind I will eat--are disgusting on rides. They melt. When I finished the ride, I had chocolate all over my face, and nobody was kind enough to tell me; I discovered this fact when I looked at myself in horror in my pseudo Grandma's bathroom mirror. How many people had I chatted with while covered in what resembled poo slimed all over my face? I shutter at the thought.

Mistake #2: I went alone. That was cool with me, but having just rode my second "official" Century ride this weekend with the coachancé, I now realize how truly fantabulous the whole experience can be when you go with someone you know and like. You can pretend to be doing a stage of the TDF by taking turns pulling each other and blasting past all of the other riders. (Of course, you can always tag along with someone else's little peloton. But what if they start conversing about such gag-worthy topics like, say, wedding planning?)

Mistake #3: I had no salt pills. It was 100 degrees outside. At that point in my life, I had no idea what a salt pill was or that they existed, but this is a case where ignorance is certainly not bliss. I cramped. Big time. And at the end of the Ojai Valley Century, there is a nice big ass climb.

Mistake #4: I had my bike gearing set up like this: 12-21. I didn't know it didn't have to be that hard. It was my first road bike, and I just wanted to ride. (I also had...and still have...full fingered mountain bike gloves. I'm convinced they'll keep me from getting skin cancer on my fingers.)

Life is all about learning from mistakes, so the second time around, coachancé and I had a grand old time.

#1: I ate PowerBars and Gu and Gatorade. Ironman training did me good.

#2: Coachancé came with me for what became his first 100 mile ride ever. He kicked butt. I am so proud.

#3: I had salt pills. No cramps. They are a little miracle drug unto themselves.

#4: I rode the same bike. Same gears. Different shoes and pedals. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?

So get out there with your buddies and do a Century ride! What have you got to loose besides bodily fluids? (And many of them are for charity, so you can do something good for others while you do good to your beautifully muscular physique!)

Happy riding!