Day 12: Dalhart, Texas to Liberal, Kansas

Distance: 113 miles
Climbing: 550 feet
Average Speed: 16.2 mph
Winds: Moderate tailwinds up to mile 30, then turning to heavy cross and head winds of 20+ mph

Alright, class, who can tell me the claim to fame of Liberal, Kansas? Anyone? Anyone? That’s right Bobby Sue. This is where the Wizard of Oz was set.

The producers left the wind when they split town. It pretty much did a 180 degree turn over the course of 30 minutes today, and what started as a fast, easy day slowed to something approximating the Bataan Death March.

One of the best things about this trip so far is that I am going to places that I would never go under any other circumstances. I’d never been to the Texas panhandle; I’d never been to Oklahoma; I’d never been to Kansas. And today I was in all three. You wouldn’t know one state from the other today. The landscape is uniformly flat and entirely agricultural. I mean, these farms are massive. You don’t even see the farmhouses. What you do see are these tiny towns with populations of 1800 souls that spring up every 25 miles or so. They are built around the grain elevators that are the dominant feature of the landscape. You can see them from 15 miles out, and almost immediately after you leave town you can see the next one on the horizon. On a bike it seems to take forever to reach them. They just sit there out of reach, taunting you, as you slog through the wind.

Now for the pictures.

Here you have local color from Conlen, Texas, on Highway 54. It’s one of those towns I mentioned.

And here you have the entryway into the panhandle of Oklahoma. That little panhandle bitched me up but good today. The winds were really firing for the whole stretch.

And hear you have Sexybike hamming it up as we enter Kansas. I had to explain to hear that we are in Kansas now and will be for the next several nights. She kept wanting to use that Judy Garland line from the movie, but no way I’m letting that bitch call me Toto.

One note here. According to my route guide I don’t have Wifi access in the next two motels (Dodge City and Great Bend). I’ll write up the posts, but you may not see them until Sunday night from Abilene, Kansas.

Day 11: Tucumcari, New Mexico to Dalhart, Texas

Distance: 96 miles
Climbing: 750 feet
Average Speed: 23.5 mph
Winds: Tailwinds, maybe 10 – 15 mph

I have to tell you, Dalhart is fascinating. It sits high up in the Texas panhandle as an object lesson of economies of scale in food production. This place is all about beef. Massive feed lots line Route 54 heading into town. There are cattle as far as the eye can see, and believe me, the eye can see pretty damn far. All those cattle must have stamped out all the hills. Trains howl down the tracks and trucks stampede down the road delivering the bovines to their final destination. It's all a pretty powerful encouragement to vegetarianism, but I still had barbecue for dinner.

Unfortunately, some of the people who hang out with all those cattle are lowlife redneck assholes, one of whom nailed my riding companion, Sam, in the back with a beer bottle just as we were coming into town. I didn’t get a license plate and we couldn’t catch him, but if somebody out there should come across a redneck this evening, I’d be perfectly comfortable with you expressing my rage upon his person.

As for the ride, today was practically a rolling rest day. It was the first day of the trip under 100 miles, and that tailwind and the flat terrain made that 23.5 mph average easy to achieve. I started out of Tucumcari with a short pace line that got reduced to the ride leader Mike, Jay (who is now in form and kicking my ass), and myself. I hung with those two guys for maybe 35 miles before getting pooped out the back. They’ve got that racer top end speed that I don’t have. Even afterwards, though, the pace stayed really high. I rolled into Texas just before lunch, and found something stereotypically Texan about the bullet holes in this sign.

At our lunch Sexybike took the opportunity to catch up on a little local history. I have to tell you she’s turning into quite the little Pygmalion. I’m so proud of her now, classing up and showing some intellectual curiosity. I think this trip is really expanding her horizons.

What else? We’ve had our first hospital visit for saddle sores, though my ass remains in manageable shape. I never thought I’d see the day when I described a 23.5 mph, 96 mile ride as a rolling rest day, but there you go. If we’d had more people in the pace line we could have gone at a four hour century pace. It’s all about the wind out here.

Tomorrow, we cross the Oklahoma Panhandle and head into Kansas, where we remain for an eternity. Evening, folks.

Day 10: Las Vegas, New Mexico to Tucumcari, New Mexico

Distance: 110 miles
Climbing: 2800 feet, but I swear there was more

Ah, he’s back. The routine kicked back in this morning, and I found my legs, thank God. After three 135 mile days in a row, and after yesterday in particular, today was fairly short and easy. I had time to stop along the way and snap some pictures and get some video, none of which came out. Sexybike ascribes it to operator error, but I’m pretty sure she’s in cahoots with all of my devices. Let me tell you, she’s a bit snooty about being in Tucumcari, the pretentious little cosmopolite. I did catch her reading an information board about the Canadian Escarpment, though. It’s nice to see her trying to improve herself.

As for the ride, we left Las Vegas onto a 35 mile cruise over a mesa. It rolled a bit, nothing too serious, but the skies were lowering, lots of cloud cover and an occasional spitting rain. This mesa can get souped in by fog, and the temperature was just two degrees above the dew point. I wanted to get a jump on the weather so I rolled out early with another guy who descends like a bomb. There was more down than up today. We made it across the mesa and down a three mile drop off it. We’re talking some lonely road here, no houses to be seen, very little traffic. The cattle looked very droll and slightly condescending, but they don’t know about their future what I know so I didn’t let resentment build.

After that it was some more rolling type terrain with a bit of a headwind. There were one or two serious climbs along the way, one of which has earned the title of the Wall. It’s only 0.7 miles at 10% with some lifting terrain as you approach, but it’s dead straight, and it just sort of looms there over you wondering what your punk ass is going to do about it. The road actually turns at the base to go over it. That’s right. Some fool actually had to work at it to make the road go up it.

The lunch stop came at about 78 miles. This was where the wind kicked up, maybe 15 mph flat into my face for the remaining 32 miles with some pretty substantial rollers to boot. I went off with three other guys to get some help punching through it, but within a few miles I was on my own, resigned to slogging my way into town. From behind me came a train of riders with the hammer down that I was able to hook into, and the last 17 miles into town went a lot faster than I was planning, though I had very little to contribute to the pace making after being off the front for much of the day. When we hit town, there was a low rider dog tied up in a front yard and barking baritone at me. It reminded me of Mel. What is it with low riders? What is their rage against cyclists? My theory: it's the lycra.

It feels good to be back in the groove, keeping it very simple. Tomorrow should be an easy day, our first day under 100 miles as we penetrate the Texas panhandle and Central Time Zone. That almost sounds dirty, doesn’t it? Well, I have been away from home for a long time.

Day 9: Albuquerque, NM to Las Vegas, NM

Distance: 135 miles

Climbing: 8100 feet

Average Speed: 16.5 mph

The best part of the day was the scenery. The worst part was my lame riding. First the scenery:

We rose up out of the valley in which Albuquerque sits, and you could see the climate and ecosystems change right before your eyes. After the brown, arid last few days, green began to make her appearance as we headed through a splendid valley surrounded by tree-covered mountains and roofed by an enormous blue sky. This was up the Turquoise Trail (Route 14) heading into Santa Fe. Even when we hit I-25 for the ride from Santa Fe to Las Vegas the scenery was impressive. I may have to come back to the Santa Fe area of New Mexico. It's truly gorgeous.

Now for the riding. I had a very off day. I struggled with the elevation. We were over 8000 feet and today was the first day that I felt the thin air. It started pretty much right off the bat with the climb out of Albuquerque. The second thing that conspired against me was the rest day yesterday. I know it seems kind of crazy, but the body gets into a rhythm. Even though I was mentally exhausted and wanted that rest day, my body rebelled at not getting what it had become used to. This morning when I hit reset, I think it said, "Quoi?" Between the elevation and coming off a rest day, I couldn't get the engine room to answer the bell all day. The last miles were a slog, and I was slow throughout. Hopefully, I get straightened out for tomorrow.

I understand you're roasting back east. Today was sunny with highs in the high 60s here. Tomorrow I cross the 1000 mile mark. I'll be seeing you soon. Good night.

Day 8: REST DAY!!!

Distance: F--- THAT!!!
Average Speed: A Slow Stroll

Yesterday we finished the western leg of the ride. Over seven days we had three over 130 miles and none under 100 miles. We had some beautiful climbs, incredible scenery, a tailwind speed day, and a couple of hard long days that were really more just about getting from A town to B town. I am completely undisappointed, completely challenged, and really satisfied with my performance thus far.

The body is holding together well. Ankles and knees are getting iced every other night, more as a prophylactic measure than due to any pain. I think I did well to coddle the ankle toward the end of my training. I owe Techa and the diners of Enoteca Sogno on Broad Street an apology for ruining their antipasta with the stench on Ben Gay following a number of hard training rides. It is allowing me to ride pain-free, though.

You know, when I signed up for the Fast Ride I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the pace day after day after day. That has turned out not to be the case. I’m one of the stronger riders, and I feel like I’m still getting stronger. Again, preparation paid off. A bunch of guys are riding into some really strong legs now. While I may have been off the front for much of the first section, I suspect that that won’t continue for long. Everyone is getting better, getting stronger. Jay and Sam both have enough pace to put some hurt on me. Ron is a locomotive. Everyone is determined.

Other folks I ride with at home could do this ride. I’m thinking about the hard men in RABA that crank out the mileage. They could do this. So could the strong, fast guys. Both groups would find it challenging but would be successful doing it. It’s not because I’m a super strong rider that I can do this. That’s just not the way it works. The ability to find a rhythm is a lot more important. Ride, eat, sleep, repeat. Keep it simple. You can’t come here thinking you’re going to be keeping up with work email. You can’t get worked up about the little things. It’s too long and too hard. You have to keep it simple, and dare I say it, pure. You have to be patient.

One insight I’ve gained over the first seven days is that this is no club ride. Everything is bigger, longer, higher, harder. Leg fatigue will not stop me; the inability to keep my joints together could. One needs to hold oneself accountable for both. If my ankle doesn’t hold up, that’s my fault, not an act of nature. I went hard when I should have gone easy. I went dumb when I should have gone smart. We are not riding quiet, deserted, two lane country roads with no cars. I’ve been scared a couple of times. We’ve had one rider go the emergency room when she had to beat back a feisty guardrail with her head outside Sedona. Weather conditions are a given—interesting but they don’t change what needs to be done.

There is no option not to go on a given day. You have to work around the conditions and how you feel. I started Day 3 feeling the worst starting a bike ride than I have ever felt, and I was facing 115 miles into a moderate headwind. You’ll remember that Day 2 was 130 miles across the desert in 104 degree temperatures. After I got into Blythe that day I could not stop cramping, and for the first time in my life I vomited in multiples following a ride. Ron and I had gone hard down the highway, and no matter how great the SAG crew there was just no way I was not going to hurt that evening. Sorry for the long set up to the simple point that I was prouder of the ride I did on Day 3, crawling over the route, staying out of pacelines, and trying not to draw down my reserves further, than I was of making it through Day 2 strongly. I felt that way doubly when I saw the 11,000 feet of climbing and beautiful scenery on Day 4.

Some other advice:

Tweezers. Bring them. You’ll need them to pull out the wires that puncture your tires on the interstate.
Carmex. A must. Breathing desert air heavily over seven hours has left my lips a chapped mess of gristle.
Tires. Bring the slow, heavy, thick ones. These roads are no place for racing tires. Punctures kill a pace much more surely than slow tires. I didn’t take this advice. I’m fixing that today.

Thanks for following. Tomorrow we go to Las Vegas! New Mexico.

Day 7: Gallup, NM to Albuquerque, NM

Distance: 137 miles
Average Speed: 19.5 mph
Winds: 30 mph, rear quartering to hard cross
Climbing: 4250 feet

I have to start by saying I’m preoccupied tonight. I was preoccupied today. I’m out here playing, and the person I love most in the world is going through a rough patch. Sorry to be a downer, but truly I have found over the last few months that the mental and physical are inextricably linked and that a 137 mile ride happens largely in the mind. That meant that today was bound to be tough, and it certainly was.

Rolling out of Gallup was pretty chilly. It was the first time I broke out the leggings and full fingered gloves on this ride. I knew I wasn’t going to be good company for anyone so I spent the first 105 miles or so off the front and by myself. Winds howled and were never neutral. Little stretches of 25 mph; longer stretches of 15 mph. We crossed the Continental Divide, so now we’re definitely flowing east.

At mile 105 we hit a stretch of I-40 construction where the shoulder was cut off and had to be SAG-ged across a four mile stretch. I’ve kind of developed this goal of not SAG-ging a single itch of this trip so this was a bit disappointing, but the SAG crew absolutely made the right call—way too dangerous. I’ve got a bit of riding to do around Albuquerque tomorrow anyway so I’ll make up the mileage, and it wasn’t an especially scenic four miles. Then it was a climb and a booming descent into Albuquerque, straight as piss and windy as hell. The cross winds were a bit scary on all the descents. It turns out it’s windy in the West. There were a couple of times today I had to be in the drops with my knees tight around the frame to keep Sexybike from getting blown out from under me. Christ, I’d never hear the end of it.

I’ve got a fairly busy rest day planned tomorrow. Bike shop, Old Town Albuquerque, laundry. I’ll be posting some of my insights accumulated over the western section of this ride, too, including the importance of tweezers and Carmex and something on the folks with whom I’m riding.

I want you all to be happy so do that, please.

Day 6: Winslow, Arizona to Gallup, New Mexico

First, the numbers. Today was all about the numbers.

Distance: 135 miles
Climbing: 3300 feet
Saddle time: 6 hours 10 minutes
Average speed for the non-mathematically inclined: 21.8 mph

See that average speed? Not too shabby, huh. It certainly set things to right with Sexybike. Think about it--21.8 mph over 135 miles. Hmmm.

Okay, there's a catch. We galloped into Gallup in the jaws of a 30 mph tailwind. Hannah, that pun's for you. It followed us the entire way. We were barreling down the shoulder of I-40 in echelon for about 100 miles. I have sand and dust in every crevice and gear of Sexybike and myself.

All that said, it was still a hard ride for me. Pace can hurt in some sneaky ways, and it was just long. I also didn't ride it terribly smart. I worked the middle bit too hard, sat on the front too much, that kind of thing. I'm hoping tomorrow isn't too hard, but I suspect crossing the Continental Divide on another 135 mile day will not be a piece of cake.

After tomorrow we have a rest day in Albuquerque. Lord, I will be ready. I will be visiting a bike shop for sure. I have punctured at least once every day but one this week. Little wires from the radial tires that trucks shred along the interstate are everywhere. I need some tougher tires and some other stuff. I will also be treating myself to the first beer of this trip.

I'm sorry I've got no pictures or video, but it was not a terribly photogenic day--all moonscape and poverty. Really, it was all just about going fast.

I'm going to go now. We lost an hour crossing into the Mountain time zone, and I'll need that hour of sleep for tomorrow.

Day 5: Cottonwood, Arizona to Winslow, Arizona

Distance: 107 miles
Climbing: 3890 feet

First, let me tell you this. It is through the application of the most delicate realpolitik that I have reached an accomodation with my ass. It seemed almost ready to rebel against the saddle sores this morning so we got down to brass tacks, figuratively speaking only. I wore my most comfortably padded shorts knowing full well that they have a small tear in the back that would potentially offend those of more delicate sensibilities. My ass reciprocated by stopping its howling today. We have achieved a kind of detente.

Second, let me tell you this as well. The best thing about Winslow, Arizona is....Well, to tell you the truth nothing comes to mind. Unless you're an Eagles fan. I effing hate the Eagles.

But we're only sleeping here. The rest of the day was spectacular. We rolled into Sedona and the Red Rocks area as the sun was rising behind it. Color and shadow and contour combined in sublime combinations that broke down and reassembled anew as perspective changed with the passing of the miles. Truly these are our cathedrals, the American cathedrals. These places--Sedona, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon--they are our Chartres, our Notre Dame. I'll take these monuments to God over the human vanities perpetrated in her name any day.

Then we rose up a stunning climb out of Oak Creek Canyon to get to the road to Flagstaff. The picture is looking down at a small section of that climb. I didn't count the switchbacks, but they were more than several. Flagstaff was our high point of the day, over 7000 feet. The climbing is really comfortable, well worth the views, and I never thought I would say that.

Then we hit the interstate. I know riding down the interstate doesn't sound all that scenic, and I have to tell you that between Flagstaff and Winslow, there's a whole bunch of nothing. For you cyclists, though, imagine a slightly downhill 55 mile stretch of road that you're riding in one direction with a 25 mph tail wind. You never have to turn back into the wind and the only thing to look out for is the debris on the ground. I think a group of us must have averaged at least 25 mph for the stretch. We had a three man echelon zooming down the highway shoulder between the dirt and the rumbles. That's the second bit of video below.

I appreciate all the comments. I'm trying to address them a bit in the posts. If you're on Blogspot as anonymous, I can usually figure out who it is, but leave a name if you're willing to be identified.

Day 4: Wickenburg, Arizona to Cottonwood, Arizona

Distance: 103 miles
Climbing: 8750 feet
Max Speed: 46 mph

A wonderfully scenic day today. We got out of the hard core desert and into the mountains over three mountain passes and three great descents. I have to admit, I’d about had it with the desert.

First on the day was Yarnell pass. Yarnell is sort of the boundary between desert and mountain air. I swear the temperature dropped 10 degrees on the top of that mountain pass and the air picked up that celery snap.

Then came the pass into Prescott. Great climb, great descent. I got an early start out of lunch so I could stop by a bike shop there to pick up some water bottle cages for my saucy little minx. I understand she got a bit uppity with you yesterday. I got her these big, industrial strength bottle cages. I could have gone with the carbon, but no way. Not with her attitude. See how she likes that.

Next was the pass into Jerome. I summited at the high point for the day at 7023 feet and then dropped off the mountain like a stone down a technical descent. It was one of those where a bike can go a lot faster than a car. Jerome is this old copper mining town hanging off the side of a mountain overlooking a stunning valley panorama. The video is a three minute bit from that descent around some switchbacks and such. I think it came out pretty well.

I feel great tonight. This old flatlander is pretty satisfied with his legs over all that climbing. Slopes ramped up to 8% for pretty long stretches. It’s not all that bad. You just find a low gear and tap out a cadence. I also feel like I’m riding into some good legs, not necessarily speed legs, but endurance and climbing legs.

Alright. I’m out. I have to find more food. See ya.

Day 3: Blythe, California to Wickenburg, Arizona

Distance: 115 miles
Climbing: 3360 feet
Temperature: 101 F
Average Speed: 14.8 mph

Do you believe that average? I was disgusted so I'm taking over the blog tonight. He says he just wanted to do a recovery ride because he felt shitty after yesterday and has a lot of climbing around Flagstaff tomorrow. He does look a lot more chipper, but I still think he's full of crap.

I've been doing my best to get that boy through, but he won't appreciate it. Do you know what he did to me? For the first time in my life, I've got duct tape stuck to me. Duct tape! It's just embarrassing. He shattered one bottle cage, and his second is about to fall apart, so he's got it taped on there. Not only does he buy me shitty bling, but then he slaps some tape over it, right in front of all the other girls. He treats me like a lot lizard just because I've got a few miles on me. No way he would be doing that if I was some pretty little Cervelo or Pinarello. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about here. He says he'll replace those cages at the bike shop in Flagstaff, and you better believe I want the full carbon treatment. Can I get a "hell yeah"?

He says he really appreciates all your comments. He finds them really motivating. I don't know why you bother, to tell you the truth. And why are you getting all the gratitude? I'm the one that's gotta smell his stinky ass crossing the desert all day.

And another thing, he promised video yesterday. Well, he's disappointing us there, too. It turns out the batteries died. He's replaced them now and promises sparkling footage of some hair-raising descents tomorrow, but we'll see.

I have to sign off before I put myself in a state.

Good night.

Sexybike

Day 2: Palm Springs, California to Blythe, California

Distance: 134 miles
Climbing: 3350 feet
Temperature: 104 F, that’s right, 104
Average Speed: Unknown, but faster than yesterday. Accidentally reset my computer about 60 miles in.

Today was what you would call a hard day—long and very hot. Only 3 of us weren’t riding in the van for most of the day. It was a 42 mile rollout from Palm Springs, maybe 25 miles of very gradual climbing through a lovely box canyon, and about 70 miles on I-10 and a frontage road into Blythe. All was through a baking desert. And when I say desert, I mean parched, lifeless, and relentless.

The SAG team did yeoman’s work keeping us watered up on that stretch of I-10. I definitely wouldn’t have made it without them. Like a tree I must be watered. I’ve got video of the box canyon, but the time is getting a bit late so I won’t be pulling it together until tomorrow.

I’m concentrating on recovering right now. I’m hurting a bit—crampy, sore, thoroughly antisocial. The physical definitely impacts my mood. I’m planning on soft pedaling most of the way tomorrow. I definitely don’t want to go as hard as today. I don’t know that I could even if I so desired.

But enough bitching. I did something really hard today. I pushed myself and tested myself and proved something to myself. Someone made the comment today that he had nothing to prove, and he may not. And it may just be a phrasing to indicate that he knows what his limits are. But I don’t. And I don’t feel that way. I feel like I’ve got something to prove practically every day. Otherwise, isn’t it just the slow death of stasis and non-discovery? To struggle against mighty obstacles seems the most human of endeavors. I want to be a human, a living, struggling, occasionally failing one.

My second thought: despite it being a hard day on the bike, at no point in time did I say to myself that I’d rather be shilling credit cards right now, not even a little bit. A hard day on the bike is better than the best day at work.

Day 1: Costa Mesa, California to Palm Springs, California

Distance: 112 miles
Climbing: 4150 feet

So, I’m sitting by the pool of a really very nice Best Western in Palm Springs (yes, that Palm Springs—you know, where they keep the old people). A lovely ride today. Sunny. Hot (upper 90s). Strong headwind. I averaged 15.3 mph for the ride. I know, that seems like a really slow average, but you have to keep in mind that there’s really no turning out of the headwind. We’re going east, and if the wind is coming from the east, you’re eating it. In my defense, I hit town with one other guy well before everybody else. Plus, it’s Day One, and I didn’t really want to get into my legs or go anaerobic yet until I have some sense of how the old body will react. The first three days are alleged to be a stone bitch.

I rode on an Interstate for the first time in my life. That’s right, two sections of I-10 around where the windmills are in the pass before you drop into Palm Springs. There was also a lot of riding on the shoulders of fairly large state highways. There are a lot fewer riders than I was anticipating. We’ve got 12 total, only 8 of whom are going through all the way to Amesbury, plus a couple of the support group that ride some. The climbs are lovely. I’d like to make slow, sweet love to the engineers that graded the mountain passes of Southern California. Figuratively. Sort of. The climbs are long and gradual and never kicked up that steeply.

I had a lovely visit from Thursday to Saturday with Crystal and Scott. Lovely weather, sparkling people. I'm including a photo of those two cuties along with a piece of my hand with absolutely no permission from them. It's a pretty terrible picture but does a decent job of capturing how I see them. Scott was huge in hauling my ass down from Sherman Oaks to Costa Mesa on Saturday. It turns out my helmet was cracked, and I needed to find someplace to pick up a new one. I wound up frittering away his whole afternoon going from place to place. Kudos to Scott. Sorry for the hassle young man. I owe you one.

Two tangents now. First, customer service is truly an adventure in Southern California, kind of like Alaska. I must be spoiled living in the South, where they still may get everything wrong, but are at least sweet about it. In Southern California, they try to convince you that you’re at fault, and kind of a toolbag for even hassling them in the first place.

Second, I spent all day riding my bicycle to a place where I have virtually no responsibilities. That’s what we call a good day. I feel fantastic. I felt fantastic the whole ride—light and easy, never straining, not even on the climbs. And tomorrow I get up at 5 AM to do it all over again. I can’t wait, and that’s not even sarcastic.

Done Training...And Grateful for It

I'm deep into my taper for the big ride now. I did a couple of centuries last week, but it's just short, fast, and fun stuff until the ride starts on Sunday. All together I did ten centuries that I normally wouldn't have done over the last two months and maybe 2200 additional miles. I think I've gone through 15 pints of chamois butter, 2000 ibuprofens, and kept Ben Gay a vibrant and prospering brand. Okay, those are probably exaggerations.

In addition, I went up to the Blue Ridge to ride some long, steep climbs that we don't get around here. I did consecutive centuries on several occasions. I purposely rode in rain and high wind to build a tolerance for conditions that would typically lead me to bail. I tolerated night sweats, saddle sores, tendonitis in the ankle, and the kind of mechanical failures that only come with high mileage riding. I rode tired a lot, despite being in the best cycling shape of my life.

I'm glad the training is wrapped and the real miles are about to begin. I'm glad I didn't have to do it all by myself. Everybody in RABA, everybody I rode with, everybody who offered encouragement was a huge help. Through all the training they made sure that I never lost the simple joy of going out and riding my bicycle.

I am completely excited and feeling ready for it. I'm headed to California on Thursday to spend a couple of days with my friends Crystal and Scott before the ride begins. Next time you see me I'll be in Cali.

We've Got Video!! And the Shaving Question!!

Two things:

1) I broke out the handlebar camera for Sunday's Dorey Park ride, kind of testing the works before the big ride. Pretty snazzy shots of men in lycra.



2) Now for the really volatile question. I've always thought of myself as a cyclist of the more industrial sort, eschewing the more nuanced of practices and equipment. I mean, how complex does turning the pedals need to be? As such, my legs have remained hairy throughout. For the ride, though, I'm considering shaving for the first time in the interest of making it as easy as possible. Upsides? Downsides? Thus far, the opinions I've heard have run the gamut, but all have been deeply held. What do you think?

A Training Hiccup, But Nothing Too Serious or Depressing

I had a mixed week of training this last week. I put together around 200 miles from Friday to Sunday. Most of it was hard riding with fast groups. I did another century with Jim P. on Tuesday over a pretty hilly course for the Richmond area. Then I headed up to Douglassville for Hannah's chorus concert prior to her heading out to Italy on tour with them on Sunday. I got 41 miles in Pennsylvania on Thursday. Good hard mileage this week with some speed and some hills. Here's the thing, though. Between a stumble down my steps and some new shoes upon which I misplaced the cleats, I've tweaked my right ankle, and it' has given me some pain all week that has made it hard to put down power with my right leg. I've been icing it and am resting it today and tomorrow to give it some healing time, but I have to confess it's got me a bit worried about losing the training time or riding through the discomfort on the ride. If anybody has got any advice, I'd love to hear it.

Below I've got a link to some photos and pithiness from the February Snowball Criterium in Virginia Beach in which I participated with decidedly mixed results.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=141297&id=1541799977&saved#/photos.php?id=1541799977