"The Use of an External Catheter for Racing (or just convenience)"
Of the almost 35,000 pageviews of my blog over the past two years this post (Dec 26, 2010) has received the most pageviews: 1,113. More than twice the number of the runner up.
I don't know what to make of that.
Do you?
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Friday, December 28, 2012
2012: Wrapping It Up and Planning 2013
2012 has been the first year I was able to maintain some consistency in my cycling training.
Some 2012 data:
A. Mountainous and remote terrain requires smart and detailed attention to the following:
E. Be vigilant in the consumption of food and water on rides of 3+ hours. I've always had a problem remembering to eat and drink until it is literally too late and my performance has suffered.
F. Realistic planning of the cycling events for the upcoming year. Allows for specific training, recovery and an important balance (family, social, etc) in my life.
G. Economic assessment as to whether it is worth it to, e.g., drive 6 hours to do a 60 mile group ride (NOT!).
H. Emotional preparedness to experience ridicule and discounting by DF bike riders for riding a recumbent bike. (There is a baseless assumption that equally fit recumbent cyclists can't climb that I love to disprove).
I. A welcoming appreciation by the general public and other cyclists for riding a recumbent bike.
J. Pain and suffering should not be the `goal' of ultracycling. Rather, the ability to learn from experience so that adversity can be managed with emotional resilience, good training and better preparation.
Some 2012 data:
- about 7,300 miles cycled;
- about 565,000 feet of climbing;
- net loss of 30 lbs weight (-40 lbs fat; +10 lbs of muscle);
- substantial improvement of stamina, endurance and power when climbing (beat my previous best by 32 minutes [2:49:00] on local race of 54 miles, 4,800 ft of climbing).
A. Mountainous and remote terrain requires smart and detailed attention to the following:
- what clothing gear to carry (in the Fall and Winter one can experience 3 different seasonal climates due to the changes in altitude when riding);
- careful assessment of the difficulty of certain training routes;
- what equipment is essential;
- what equipment works best;
- water, water, water;
- high energy food / nutrition;
- cellphone coverage is 95% non-existent;
- how to protect against damage to skin from sun / solar radiation;
- effects of heat and cold, i.e., temperatures on summer days can range 40 degrees from the top of the mountain to the depth of a canyon;
- how to deal with black ice in the mountains;
- being careful to note that while you're screaming down that 8% descent at 45+ mph there may be deer, coyote, javelina, snakes, etc in your way;
- being careful to note that while you're screaming down that 8% descent at 45+ mph there may be a sharp and unexpected turn in the road;
- solo riding (i.e., when my training rides are longer (time and distance) and hillier (thousands of feet of climbing and descending) than others want to do, have the time to do;
- I still think it is more dangerous to ride in Chicago than it is to ride in the most desolate and threatening local terrain.
- lighting for night riding if I encounter time delays;
- protection in the event of predatory wildlife;
- making sure that other's know my route and expected time of return;
- double and triple equipment backup (tubes, tires, air, cables, master chain links, first-aid, etc.);
- weather emergencies (sudden cold, lightning);
- waving at, being seen by, being courteous to, and establishing and maintaining good will with drivers and local folks (being literally the only recumbent cyclist in the area means that I will be remembered);
- don't lay or sit down on flat ground unless I want scorpions, ants or snakes as company;
- sources of water (remote hiking trailheads, driving the course and placing bottles of water at strategic points along the way);
- complete absence of sources of food (stores, gas stations) for tens of miles along the route;
- recognition that I might have to stop at any remote ranch or house along the way to ask for help.
- short, hilly races (strategy, intensity managementy, weight issues (body, bike, nutrition, water), gearing;
- long, flat brevets or races (lots of indoor training at continuous, non-stop effort v. short, hard efforts interspersed with often long [15+ minutes] of steep or steady descents where the heart rate drops to the 60's;
- Self-support v. full or partial support (crew/vehicle) for mechanicals, food and water;
E. Be vigilant in the consumption of food and water on rides of 3+ hours. I've always had a problem remembering to eat and drink until it is literally too late and my performance has suffered.
F. Realistic planning of the cycling events for the upcoming year. Allows for specific training, recovery and an important balance (family, social, etc) in my life.
G. Economic assessment as to whether it is worth it to, e.g., drive 6 hours to do a 60 mile group ride (NOT!).
H. Emotional preparedness to experience ridicule and discounting by DF bike riders for riding a recumbent bike. (There is a baseless assumption that equally fit recumbent cyclists can't climb that I love to disprove).
I. A welcoming appreciation by the general public and other cyclists for riding a recumbent bike.
J. Pain and suffering should not be the `goal' of ultracycling. Rather, the ability to learn from experience so that adversity can be managed with emotional resilience, good training and better preparation.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
`Getting old' vs. Aging
Rollers.
Years ago I trained on rollers (DF) and found that they `trained' my ability to maintain balance on a slippery surface. But they offered absolutely no benefit to my real goals with indoor trainers: increase cardiopulmonary capacity, build power and improve endurance. I sold the rollers and moved to a resistance platform.
Now that I am `retired' (what a joke!) I have time to meet more neighbors and spend time with them. The community in which I live has a `common house' that we jointly fund and use for many good purposes. When we moved here last year I brought all my indoor training equipment and set it up in a designated room in the `common house.' My motives were self-interest and communitarian. That is, I didn't want to take up space in my own house with this armamentarium of equipment but wanted it to be nearby and free to use.
The hundred or so community neighbors were delighted to have the equipment: Concept2 indoor rower, Solex Elliptical, indoor bicycle on a wind-resistance trainer, a set of free weights, and a bunch of mats, etc.
They wanted assistance in learning how best to use the equipment.
We have a lot of kids and their working parents here. The kids don't use the stuff. Their parents use it irregularly when time permits. But the older, often semi- or fully retired folks have a real interest in the equipment.
None of the community users are athletes. They use the equipment for 30 minutes every other day or so. They asked me for an `orientation' to the equipment and if I'd be the community person available for instruction, etc....
So now I'm back to the issue of `balance' after all these years.
As folks age their parts start to give them trouble. Unless there is deliberate and disciplined attention to working to stay fit we will all just seize up and become sedentary.
And that is the very definition of `getting old' to 99% of us: seizing up and becoming sedentary.
That is, an increasingly submissive giving-in to predictable physical impediments. (For some, getting older affords them -- FINALLY -- the excuse to become helpless, dependent and the objects of sympathy that they've been looking for all their life).
The `getting old' spiral cycle is as follows:
It's a `psychology' of voluntary withdrawal from life. And the emotional anxiety it generates within us requires effort to deal with.
In otherwords, `getting old' and decrepit is hard work and we earn every debility we accomplish! It is NOT a simple function of the passage of time. We `choose' decrepitude.
Aging is not for sissies. It requires clear-headed vigilance and a more mature commitment than just coasting along on the inertia that youth gives us. (O.K. I think being young is for sissies! There. I said it.)
Aging isn't about getting weak and fragile. It's an opportunity! We can exploit this opportunity and gain enormous satisfaction in doing so. Goals. Methods. Discipline. Consistency. The strength and resilience to persist through predictable setbacks.
You just can't ask for anything better.
And here is recent scientific support for the proposition that endurance activity makes for an ever-smarter brain.
So, when I orient and `coach' the older neighbors I tell them that they should get the hell out of the exercise room and use the immensely challenging terrain around us.
BUT, when they do need to use the indoor equipment their focus should be on: building balance, cardiovascular capacity, muscle and stamina.
So ... indoor training on rollers is good for aging folks because it trains our balance and the vestibular system.
Same with the elliptical. Get on the elliptical and don't use your hands or arms. Just use your legs. You'll find that you'll need all the micromuscles in your legs and core to stay balanced and upright while you're `ellipting' along.
The indoor rower adds upper body strength, `lubricates' and `flexibilizes' the feet, ankles, knees, hips, core, lower back, chest, hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, arms.
So .. rollers are for balance. Mag or wind resistance indoor trainers are for cardiovascular capacity, stamina, power and endurance.
O.K.
I'm done for now.
I'm leaving.
You're in charge while I'm gone.
Years ago I trained on rollers (DF) and found that they `trained' my ability to maintain balance on a slippery surface. But they offered absolutely no benefit to my real goals with indoor trainers: increase cardiopulmonary capacity, build power and improve endurance. I sold the rollers and moved to a resistance platform.
Now that I am `retired' (what a joke!) I have time to meet more neighbors and spend time with them. The community in which I live has a `common house' that we jointly fund and use for many good purposes. When we moved here last year I brought all my indoor training equipment and set it up in a designated room in the `common house.' My motives were self-interest and communitarian. That is, I didn't want to take up space in my own house with this armamentarium of equipment but wanted it to be nearby and free to use.
The hundred or so community neighbors were delighted to have the equipment: Concept2 indoor rower, Solex Elliptical, indoor bicycle on a wind-resistance trainer, a set of free weights, and a bunch of mats, etc.
They wanted assistance in learning how best to use the equipment.
We have a lot of kids and their working parents here. The kids don't use the stuff. Their parents use it irregularly when time permits. But the older, often semi- or fully retired folks have a real interest in the equipment.
None of the community users are athletes. They use the equipment for 30 minutes every other day or so. They asked me for an `orientation' to the equipment and if I'd be the community person available for instruction, etc....
So now I'm back to the issue of `balance' after all these years.
As folks age their parts start to give them trouble. Unless there is deliberate and disciplined attention to working to stay fit we will all just seize up and become sedentary.
And that is the very definition of `getting old' to 99% of us: seizing up and becoming sedentary.
That is, an increasingly submissive giving-in to predictable physical impediments. (For some, getting older affords them -- FINALLY -- the excuse to become helpless, dependent and the objects of sympathy that they've been looking for all their life).
The `getting old' spiral cycle is as follows:
- Ouch! that hurts!
- I won't do THAT again.
- Next time I have to get up to do something I won't do it because it hurts.
- I sit more.
- I move less.
- I become known to myself as `not able.'
- I eat more.
- I drink more.
- I shuffle around more.
- I lose fitness (muscle mass, flexibility, cardiovascular capacity, stamina).
- My body decides on it's own that I want to slowly `die' down.
- I get sick.
- I take `fake it' pills (that trick my organs into not dieing so fast).
- I get fat.
- Now that I'm fat it's even harder to move!
- Ouch! That hurts! ....
It's a `psychology' of voluntary withdrawal from life. And the emotional anxiety it generates within us requires effort to deal with.
In otherwords, `getting old' and decrepit is hard work and we earn every debility we accomplish! It is NOT a simple function of the passage of time. We `choose' decrepitude.
Aging is not for sissies. It requires clear-headed vigilance and a more mature commitment than just coasting along on the inertia that youth gives us. (O.K. I think being young is for sissies! There. I said it.)
Aging isn't about getting weak and fragile. It's an opportunity! We can exploit this opportunity and gain enormous satisfaction in doing so. Goals. Methods. Discipline. Consistency. The strength and resilience to persist through predictable setbacks.
You just can't ask for anything better.
And here is recent scientific support for the proposition that endurance activity makes for an ever-smarter brain.
So, when I orient and `coach' the older neighbors I tell them that they should get the hell out of the exercise room and use the immensely challenging terrain around us.
BUT, when they do need to use the indoor equipment their focus should be on: building balance, cardiovascular capacity, muscle and stamina.
So ... indoor training on rollers is good for aging folks because it trains our balance and the vestibular system.
Same with the elliptical. Get on the elliptical and don't use your hands or arms. Just use your legs. You'll find that you'll need all the micromuscles in your legs and core to stay balanced and upright while you're `ellipting' along.
The indoor rower adds upper body strength, `lubricates' and `flexibilizes' the feet, ankles, knees, hips, core, lower back, chest, hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, arms.
So .. rollers are for balance. Mag or wind resistance indoor trainers are for cardiovascular capacity, stamina, power and endurance.
O.K.
I'm done for now.
I'm leaving.
You're in charge while I'm gone.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Indoor Training: Is It Harder?
The UltraMarathon Cycling Association sponsors a winter indoor cycling competition for members. Some members spend as many as 28 hours in a row on the bike. Others no more than 2 hours. Which is harder?
Obviously, those putting in long hours on the indoor trainer are doing so at a very low level of intensity. But how does one measure capacity for boredom? One of the qualities of a successful ultracyclist is an ability to persist under the worst conditions. And experiencing hours of boredom wears you down. Is that harder?
Many cyclists enlist the support of group indoor training sessions, e.g., spinning classes, etc... This mediates the otherwise `boring' aspect of indoor training. More, spinning sessions are usually short and intense, supporting the critical dimension of motivation to train in the winter.
Taking the middle road between double digit hourse of indoor training and intensely prescribed commercial spinning we find ... the bike-in-the-basement. For most of us this is available and doable, allowing for a balanced work-family-training formula. (I, for one, also experience the feeling of `guilt' when I train. The `guilt' of neglecting the other two important dimensions: work and family.)
For me, indoor training IS harder than outdoor training. And for a combination of reasons. First, of course, is the boredom factor. Second, I tend to make it hard on myself. That is, rather than endure the boredom of multiple hours of low intensity training I opt for shorter and more physiologically intense training.
Again, for me, 90 minutes on the trainer is like 180 minutes on the road. No coasting. No stopping for traffic, intersections, etc. No tailwind.
On the road I gauge the level of intensity (measured by my heart rate) to the amount of time I'm riding, the distance and the terrain. I periodically glance at my heart rate but measure out my effort by the very subjective Relative Perceived Exertion Scale
As it turns out my indoor training sessions are more exhausting than outdoor training.
A problem that I continue to have is equating hours spent indoor v outdoor.
This past week I've retured to a disciplined regimen of training after 7 days of family traveling and other priorities. My plan was to put in 14.5 hours of training. I even identified the outdoor courses, miles covered and feet of climbing. But the reality was that weather and other priorities had me on the indoor trainer 3 out of 6 days. So, I completed 11.25 hours of training, about 100 miles and fewer than 6,000 feet of climbing. Almost all of the outdoor training was in HR Zone 1. And about half of the indoor training was in HR Zone 2.
Plans offer structure and guidance. At the end of every week, though, we usually discover that the reality trumped the plan. Maybe for good? Maybe not.
But, then, seeking a `balanced life,' what is `good?'
Obviously, those putting in long hours on the indoor trainer are doing so at a very low level of intensity. But how does one measure capacity for boredom? One of the qualities of a successful ultracyclist is an ability to persist under the worst conditions. And experiencing hours of boredom wears you down. Is that harder?
Many cyclists enlist the support of group indoor training sessions, e.g., spinning classes, etc... This mediates the otherwise `boring' aspect of indoor training. More, spinning sessions are usually short and intense, supporting the critical dimension of motivation to train in the winter.
Taking the middle road between double digit hourse of indoor training and intensely prescribed commercial spinning we find ... the bike-in-the-basement. For most of us this is available and doable, allowing for a balanced work-family-training formula. (I, for one, also experience the feeling of `guilt' when I train. The `guilt' of neglecting the other two important dimensions: work and family.)
For me, indoor training IS harder than outdoor training. And for a combination of reasons. First, of course, is the boredom factor. Second, I tend to make it hard on myself. That is, rather than endure the boredom of multiple hours of low intensity training I opt for shorter and more physiologically intense training.
Again, for me, 90 minutes on the trainer is like 180 minutes on the road. No coasting. No stopping for traffic, intersections, etc. No tailwind.
On the road I gauge the level of intensity (measured by my heart rate) to the amount of time I'm riding, the distance and the terrain. I periodically glance at my heart rate but measure out my effort by the very subjective Relative Perceived Exertion Scale
As it turns out my indoor training sessions are more exhausting than outdoor training.
A problem that I continue to have is equating hours spent indoor v outdoor.
This past week I've retured to a disciplined regimen of training after 7 days of family traveling and other priorities. My plan was to put in 14.5 hours of training. I even identified the outdoor courses, miles covered and feet of climbing. But the reality was that weather and other priorities had me on the indoor trainer 3 out of 6 days. So, I completed 11.25 hours of training, about 100 miles and fewer than 6,000 feet of climbing. Almost all of the outdoor training was in HR Zone 1. And about half of the indoor training was in HR Zone 2.
Plans offer structure and guidance. At the end of every week, though, we usually discover that the reality trumped the plan. Maybe for good? Maybe not.
But, then, seeking a `balanced life,' what is `good?'
Monday, December 10, 2012
Intensity Factor
Having chosen to train using the Heart Rate Zone method (more specifically found in Joe Friel's "Total Heart Rate Training") I've been learning and focusing on a few things.
What are my `heart rate zones?' Friel and others propose a few methods that generally home in on the upper limit beats per minute figure. That would establish the anchor of Heart Rate Zone # 5. For example, let's say that my highest bpm figure is 170. In Friel's book he offers a chart that arrays HRZs from #1 to #5c. Here they are:
93-130 HRZ #1 (Active Recovery)
130-143 HRZ #2 (Aerobic Threshold)
144-148 HRZ #3 (Tempo)
149-159 HRZ #4 (Sub-Lactate Threshold)
160-163 HRZ #5A (Lactate Threshold)
164-169 HRZ #5B (Aerobic Capacity)
170 HRZ #5C (Anaerobic Capacity)
Well enough.
I then applied these HRZs to 5 training / racing events over the past 4 months. How much time did I spend in each HRZ for each event?
To come up with an event `Intensity Factor' I developed this equation:
A = Total minutes of event
B = (Total minutes in HRZ #1) x 1
C = (Total minutes in HRZ #2) x 2
D = (Total minutes in HRZ #3) x 3
E = (Total minutes in HRZ #4) x 4
F = (Total minutes in HRZ #5) x 5
(B+C+D+E+F) / A = Intensity Factor
Example # One: A race I completed on September 16:
Example # Two: At another event I came up with an Intensity Factor of 1.0. I completed 244 miles in 15:09:00 (909 minutes). Total climbing was 2,400 feet (a very flat course). I spent all but 46 minutes (HRZ # 2) in HRZ # 1. This event was completed within a completely Aerobic pace.
Example # Three: Yesterday I completed a training event of 81.4 miles in 7 hours (420 minutes) flat. Ascending and descending feet were 8,440. Ascending time was twice that of descending time. I spent the entire event in HRZ #1 (93 - 130 bpm). The Intensity Factor for this event was also 1.0.
Summarizing:
These results may seem obvious and common knowledge to us. In fact, there is nothing in the data that surprised me (except for the effect that climbing feet has on miles covered - literally a reduction in miles covered by a third). But, it is confirming (for me) to have the tangible evidence, personal experience and data to support the `common knowledge.'
What are my `heart rate zones?' Friel and others propose a few methods that generally home in on the upper limit beats per minute figure. That would establish the anchor of Heart Rate Zone # 5. For example, let's say that my highest bpm figure is 170. In Friel's book he offers a chart that arrays HRZs from #1 to #5c. Here they are:
93-130 HRZ #1 (Active Recovery)
130-143 HRZ #2 (Aerobic Threshold)
144-148 HRZ #3 (Tempo)
149-159 HRZ #4 (Sub-Lactate Threshold)
160-163 HRZ #5A (Lactate Threshold)
164-169 HRZ #5B (Aerobic Capacity)
170 HRZ #5C (Anaerobic Capacity)
Well enough.
I then applied these HRZs to 5 training / racing events over the past 4 months. How much time did I spend in each HRZ for each event?
To come up with an event `Intensity Factor' I developed this equation:
A = Total minutes of event
B = (Total minutes in HRZ #1) x 1
C = (Total minutes in HRZ #2) x 2
D = (Total minutes in HRZ #3) x 3
E = (Total minutes in HRZ #4) x 4
F = (Total minutes in HRZ #5) x 5
(B+C+D+E+F) / A = Intensity Factor
Example # One: A race I completed on September 16:
- 52.1 miles
- 4,670 feet of climbing
- 2:48:00 (168) total minutes of event (A)
- 111 minutes ascending;
- 57 minutes descending;
- B = 12
- C = 92
- D = 24
- E = 25
- F = 0
- (15 minutes below 93 bpm)
Example # Two: At another event I came up with an Intensity Factor of 1.0. I completed 244 miles in 15:09:00 (909 minutes). Total climbing was 2,400 feet (a very flat course). I spent all but 46 minutes (HRZ # 2) in HRZ # 1. This event was completed within a completely Aerobic pace.
Example # Three: Yesterday I completed a training event of 81.4 miles in 7 hours (420 minutes) flat. Ascending and descending feet were 8,440. Ascending time was twice that of descending time. I spent the entire event in HRZ #1 (93 - 130 bpm). The Intensity Factor for this event was also 1.0.
Summarizing:
- The first example (52.1 miles) was a relatively short race.
- The second example involved 3 times the miles covered than the third example (81.4 miles v. 244 miles) but virtually no climbing at all.
- The third example (81.4 miles with 8,440 feet of climbing and descending) demonstrates the necessity of `pacing' rather than `racing.'
- At relatively short events (especially where there is a great deal of descending where the heart rate drops to as low as 64 bpm) I can deliberately enter the anaerobic threshold and increase the bpm's for a short period of time, not concerned with lactate buildup and other changes in blood chemistry.
- At events of significant distance and climbing it is critical to remain comfortably in the aerobic zones.
- Importantly, at events of great length and time duration (ultra / endurance events) time off the bike reduces the number of miles covered.
- The key variables to a winning performance, then, during ultraracing are:
- not exceeding the upper limit of HRZ #1;
- remaining on the bike with forward movement for as long as possible;
- hydration;
- nutrition;
- sleep management.
These results may seem obvious and common knowledge to us. In fact, there is nothing in the data that surprised me (except for the effect that climbing feet has on miles covered - literally a reduction in miles covered by a third). But, it is confirming (for me) to have the tangible evidence, personal experience and data to support the `common knowledge.'
Friday, November 30, 2012
Ultracycling and Introverts
Introvert personality.
If a crowded cocktail party feels like a holding cell to you, even as you gamely keep up your end of the chatter, chances are you're an introvert. Introverts are drained by social encounters and energized by solitary, often creative pursuits. Their disposition is frequently misconstrued as shyness, but many introverts socialize easily; they just strongly prefer not to. In fact, the introvert can be more empathic and interpersonally connected than his or her outgoing counterparts. The line between introversion and lonely loners gets blurry, however, as some introverts do wish they could break out of their shell.
I'd like to do a wide screen study of people who are long distance / long time cyclists. In otherwords, I'd like to know if there are more of them out there like me.
We are often asked: "Why do you do that?" "What do you get out of that?"
And, if you're like me, you really don't have an answer. "I dunno. I just like it, I guess."
Recently I listened to a glowing report from a cheerful and ebullient cyclist about riding a cross-state bicycle circus with up to 20,000 other cyclists. She reported many wonderful experiences. Later, asked if I had ever done that event I blurted out an almost involuntary: "Never. That sounds to me like a psychopathology." (Real tactful of me, right?)
I think of the many cyclists I have known who enjoy solitary riding. And of those who enjoy cycling with others ... but in almost total silence. `Semi-solitary.'
I've learned that in social situations (more than 2 others) the description above is applicable, i.e., I feel drained by the situation. Yet, I tend to thrive and feel alive and connected with one or two others.
As a psychologist I've administered too many personality tests. By and large they're grossly over / misinterpreted. Worse, personality assessments are made in order to find a way to include / exclude a person from entry to a group or work environment. It's brutal to take a snapshot of a person (who may have not slept that night, who may have had one cup of coffee too much, who may be under inordinate proximate stress) and then generalize from that snapshot.
So, wouldn't it be interesting to meet another solo cyclist and ask about introversion and extroversion.
If a crowded cocktail party feels like a holding cell to you, even as you gamely keep up your end of the chatter, chances are you're an introvert. Introverts are drained by social encounters and energized by solitary, often creative pursuits. Their disposition is frequently misconstrued as shyness, but many introverts socialize easily; they just strongly prefer not to. In fact, the introvert can be more empathic and interpersonally connected than his or her outgoing counterparts. The line between introversion and lonely loners gets blurry, however, as some introverts do wish they could break out of their shell.
I'd like to do a wide screen study of people who are long distance / long time cyclists. In otherwords, I'd like to know if there are more of them out there like me.
We are often asked: "Why do you do that?" "What do you get out of that?"
And, if you're like me, you really don't have an answer. "I dunno. I just like it, I guess."
Recently I listened to a glowing report from a cheerful and ebullient cyclist about riding a cross-state bicycle circus with up to 20,000 other cyclists. She reported many wonderful experiences. Later, asked if I had ever done that event I blurted out an almost involuntary: "Never. That sounds to me like a psychopathology." (Real tactful of me, right?)
I think of the many cyclists I have known who enjoy solitary riding. And of those who enjoy cycling with others ... but in almost total silence. `Semi-solitary.'
I've learned that in social situations (more than 2 others) the description above is applicable, i.e., I feel drained by the situation. Yet, I tend to thrive and feel alive and connected with one or two others.
As a psychologist I've administered too many personality tests. By and large they're grossly over / misinterpreted. Worse, personality assessments are made in order to find a way to include / exclude a person from entry to a group or work environment. It's brutal to take a snapshot of a person (who may have not slept that night, who may have had one cup of coffee too much, who may be under inordinate proximate stress) and then generalize from that snapshot.
So, wouldn't it be interesting to meet another solo cyclist and ask about introversion and extroversion.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Limits and the impulse toward `overtraining'
They say I'm `retired' now. Actually, I still have the luxury of work. But I no longer have the burden of a `job.'
(How many times have we thought that a trained monkey could do what we were doing. How many times have we `run out the clock' so that we could leave the job and get on with our damn lives!)
My situation is now reasonably safe and secure. Even predictable.
So what do I `make' of myself?
Do I invest myself in meaningful actions with the same intensity and resourcefulness as when I had a `job?'
Or, do I seek engagement in random activities that consume my tension and anxiety, spending time and wasting myself.
Do I `express' myself?
Or, do I waste/numb/distract myself?
The experience of having unstructured time on my hands has been somewhat confusing. Not unpleasant. Not even anxiety producing. (It is good that I am a Clinical Psychologist at times like this :)
I have the luxury, for the first time, of not feeling the knife to my throat.
But I do experience the need for something to be imposed upon me. Sort'a weird, huh! Something that will relieve me of the existential burden of making a choice, of having to think about and decide what is `important.'
I `want' a problem that will tell me what to do every day.
Erich Fromm wrote a book about this in the '60's called `Escape From Freedom.' It was a narrative of the German people in the first half of the twentieth century. They gave over this existential burden / responsibility to a `Fuerher.'
Friends. That shit don't work!
And here is where `overtraining' comes in.
I ... don't ... think ... so!
Overtraining is what we do to ourselves while trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour.
We know it won't work.
But we `won't' allow ourselves to admit to our limits, to handle the anxiety of unstructured time.
(Think Pantani).
(How many times have we thought that a trained monkey could do what we were doing. How many times have we `run out the clock' so that we could leave the job and get on with our damn lives!)
My situation is now reasonably safe and secure. Even predictable.
So what do I `make' of myself?
Do I invest myself in meaningful actions with the same intensity and resourcefulness as when I had a `job?'
Or, do I seek engagement in random activities that consume my tension and anxiety, spending time and wasting myself.
Do I `express' myself?
Or, do I waste/numb/distract myself?
The experience of having unstructured time on my hands has been somewhat confusing. Not unpleasant. Not even anxiety producing. (It is good that I am a Clinical Psychologist at times like this :)
I have the luxury, for the first time, of not feeling the knife to my throat.
But I do experience the need for something to be imposed upon me. Sort'a weird, huh! Something that will relieve me of the existential burden of making a choice, of having to think about and decide what is `important.'
I `want' a problem that will tell me what to do every day.
Erich Fromm wrote a book about this in the '60's called `Escape From Freedom.' It was a narrative of the German people in the first half of the twentieth century. They gave over this existential burden / responsibility to a `Fuerher.'
Friends. That shit don't work!
And here is where `overtraining' comes in.
- Overtraining occurs in athletes who are training for competition or a specific event and train beyond the body's ability to recover. Athletes often exercise longer and harder so they can improve. But without adequate rest and recovery, these training regimens can backfire, and actually decrease performance.
I ... don't ... think ... so!
Overtraining is what we do to ourselves while trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour.
We know it won't work.
But we `won't' allow ourselves to admit to our limits, to handle the anxiety of unstructured time.
(Think Pantani).
Monday, November 19, 2012
The `Beast'
Yesterday I got a late start on a training ride from Wilhoit toward Bagdad, the Santa Maria River (the low point). This out and back route is 70 miles. It is literally a `down and back up' route through some of the most intriguing and desolate sections of Arizona.
Because of the season and the altitude I was `chilly' during the entire event. It was mostly cloudy so when in the direct sunlight I was warmed generously (but briefly). As the afternoon wore on it became more cloudy and colder. Of course I was increasingly wet (sweat) on the `back' leg. Fortunately I carry `3 season clothing' and I managed to almost eliminate the chilling wind.
Combine the climbing and the cold I found myself unusually `sleepy' for such a short distance.
Around mile 60, amidst vast emptiness, I spied in my mirror, about 40 yards behind me, a large four footed animal chasing me. It was too far for me to make out what the animal was but it was a very big dog or somethng like it. This was the first time I was `chased' by wildlife. I accelerated promptly but the animal was really closing the distance fast. In my mind I decided if I couldn't ourtun it I was going stop and confront the beast. I finally let out a loud bellow and prepared to stop, turn the bike around and attack it. To my surprise the animal abruptly stopped and left the road.
As I continued to ride I became aware that my `confront the beast' response was pure `animal' in me. No fear. I was damned angry and wanted to kill it.
Later, driving home and, even later, falling asleep I then became afraid.
I'll probably begin to carry some self-protection devices / weapons when I go off into such remote areas.
But after the `beast' was gone I felt a strange and very satisfying sense of `excitement.' No fear at all. At least not until a few hours later.
- My Garmin 500 recorded a total of 955 feet of climbing on the 35 mile `out' leg of the ride (27.29 ft per mile).
- There was 4,763 feet of climbing on the 35 mile `back' leg of the ride (136 ft per mile).
- For a total of 5,718 feet of climbing for the entire training ride (81 ft per mile).
Because of the season and the altitude I was `chilly' during the entire event. It was mostly cloudy so when in the direct sunlight I was warmed generously (but briefly). As the afternoon wore on it became more cloudy and colder. Of course I was increasingly wet (sweat) on the `back' leg. Fortunately I carry `3 season clothing' and I managed to almost eliminate the chilling wind.
Combine the climbing and the cold I found myself unusually `sleepy' for such a short distance.
Around mile 60, amidst vast emptiness, I spied in my mirror, about 40 yards behind me, a large four footed animal chasing me. It was too far for me to make out what the animal was but it was a very big dog or somethng like it. This was the first time I was `chased' by wildlife. I accelerated promptly but the animal was really closing the distance fast. In my mind I decided if I couldn't ourtun it I was going stop and confront the beast. I finally let out a loud bellow and prepared to stop, turn the bike around and attack it. To my surprise the animal abruptly stopped and left the road.
As I continued to ride I became aware that my `confront the beast' response was pure `animal' in me. No fear. I was damned angry and wanted to kill it.
Later, driving home and, even later, falling asleep I then became afraid.
I'll probably begin to carry some self-protection devices / weapons when I go off into such remote areas.
But after the `beast' was gone I felt a strange and very satisfying sense of `excitement.' No fear at all. At least not until a few hours later.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Cracked it!!
Today's training ride put me over the 500,000 feet of climbing since Jan 1 2012 figure:
Today's Training Session
Miles: 6,435
Ft of Climbing: 500,095.
Today's Training Session
Miles: 6,435
Ft of Climbing: 500,095.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Albert Einstein and I are a lot alike that way :)
So ... I just spent a great deal of time and effort explaining and describing a dedicated program of training.
And it dawns on me: ANY program that increases time and effort on the bike will result in some improvement in performance.
For example, a grad student designs a longitudinal research study. Hypothesis is that subjects that spend 2 minutes of walking and clucking like a chicken before going to bed will live longer than those who don't.
The researcher selects 50 nonsmoking male vegetarians between the age of 50 - 55 with no personal or family history of heart disease and has them walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed. The researcher then selects another 50 men of the same age and does NOT instruct them to walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed.
Twenty years later the data show that the first group experienced (significantly) fewer deaths. Researcher's conclusion? Walking and clucking for 2 minutes every night before bedtime increases longevity (but it ruined marriages and kids never bring the grandkids over).
Same with the Power Meter v. Heart Rate Zone Training program. Both will improve performance if applied in accordance with a prescriptive training regimen. Train more and harder and you'll get better!! (You're smard, doc!)
Well, poof!!! There goes THAT comfortable delusion.
Or, as Albert Einstein said about his theory of relativity: "I thought about it while riding my bike."
And it dawns on me: ANY program that increases time and effort on the bike will result in some improvement in performance.
For example, a grad student designs a longitudinal research study. Hypothesis is that subjects that spend 2 minutes of walking and clucking like a chicken before going to bed will live longer than those who don't.
The researcher selects 50 nonsmoking male vegetarians between the age of 50 - 55 with no personal or family history of heart disease and has them walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed. The researcher then selects another 50 men of the same age and does NOT instruct them to walk and cluck like a chicken for 2 minutes every night before bed.
Twenty years later the data show that the first group experienced (significantly) fewer deaths. Researcher's conclusion? Walking and clucking for 2 minutes every night before bedtime increases longevity (but it ruined marriages and kids never bring the grandkids over).
Same with the Power Meter v. Heart Rate Zone Training program. Both will improve performance if applied in accordance with a prescriptive training regimen. Train more and harder and you'll get better!! (You're smard, doc!)
Well, poof!!! There goes THAT comfortable delusion.
Or, as Albert Einstein said about his theory of relativity: "I thought about it while riding my bike."
Power Meter v Heart Rate Zone Training
In my previous post I described some of the limitations of training exclusively in mountainous terrain. Essentially, while my climbing ability and capacity have increased substantially (I routinely, if not easily, pass DF / standard / upright cyclists on the inclines) my ability and capacity for uninterrupted application of power (i.e., on flats or hilly/rolling terrain) has become a limiting factor.
One would assume that the use of a power meter would be the first place to go in such a situation. That is, use the power meter to make sure that I apply consistent wattage in order to `fill in' the hole that mountainous training presents. But that assumption is, in my experience, completely wrong.
Consider that you're descending a 2% - 4% grade for 3 miles. Even into a headwind, when will you `spin out?' And when you `spin out' how much power are you using? When you `spin out' and your power output drops to almost zero your heart rate will drop, as well. In my case, and in that situation, my heart rate drops to the mid-60's.
If I persisted in applying 175 - 200 watts on such a descent I will increase my speed to 38 - 42 mph speed almost immediately - and then spin out. Then what? Power output terminates. Heart rate drops dramatically.
(An obvious thought crosses our mind: get a bigger front ring. 56t? 60t? 80t? And when will you spin out? Thirty seconds later? And where will you find a front derailleur that can handle the spread between that big ring and the more `terrestrial' smaller [39t, 30t] rings required for the flats, wind and/or inclines / climbing?)
So, in my analysis, putting a power meter on the bike will not address the fundamental problem that mountainous training presents, i.e., the lack of uninterrupted and continuous power and heart rate demand.
Here is where I find myself adding significant amount of time to indoor training, where I can place uninterrupted demand for increased watts and heart rate training.
Heart rate zone training is not as predictable and consistent as power meter training.
Say, for example, that I had a very heavy workout yesterday. It is probable that my heart rate today for the same effort would be higher. Essentially, if 30 minutes at 250 watts put my heart rate into Heart Rate Zone 2.5 yesterday my Heart Rate Zone would more likely be in the 3 - 3.25range today.
So there appears to be no doubt but that a power meter would solve the `hole' in mountainous terrain training. But is that the only solution? And, is that the most realistic solution?
---
On the long distance endurance cycling and racing I have done I have never used a power meter. Mostly because I didn't want to spend the money. (There is only so much of this stuff that I want to afford). But I have noted that if I attempted to maintain a particular speed it would impact my heart rate.
On the Race Across the West in 2010 (I dnf'd after 400 miles - insufficient training) my average heart rate was 106 bpm, i.e., just short ot my Heart Rate Zone 2 (111 bpm). I made good time to the Congress Time Station (#6) under the circumstances. But my endurance `terminated' at that point.
I `speculate' that if I attempted to keep to a particular power wattage (wisely set at a realistic number) for a long (12+ hours) span of time one of two things would happen. Either I'd learn that I'd have to reduce the wattage number, or, I'd learn that in maintaining that wattage number my heart rate would move too high, ultimately affecting my endurance. (Unless I were already on the `other side' of this experiment :))
---
Here is what I plan to do in my indoor training over the near (3 - 6 months) term. I will not purchase a power meter. Instead I will use Heart Rate Zone training to increase my endurance (and power).
Some practical (if not optimal) reasons:
So what would a 2 hour indoor HRZ workout look like? Here is yesterday's HRZ workout:
Here is the 2 hour indoor HRZ workout for later today:
It is my intention to post on this blog the experiences and outcome of this HRZ training method.
One would assume that the use of a power meter would be the first place to go in such a situation. That is, use the power meter to make sure that I apply consistent wattage in order to `fill in' the hole that mountainous training presents. But that assumption is, in my experience, completely wrong.
Consider that you're descending a 2% - 4% grade for 3 miles. Even into a headwind, when will you `spin out?' And when you `spin out' how much power are you using? When you `spin out' and your power output drops to almost zero your heart rate will drop, as well. In my case, and in that situation, my heart rate drops to the mid-60's.
If I persisted in applying 175 - 200 watts on such a descent I will increase my speed to 38 - 42 mph speed almost immediately - and then spin out. Then what? Power output terminates. Heart rate drops dramatically.
(An obvious thought crosses our mind: get a bigger front ring. 56t? 60t? 80t? And when will you spin out? Thirty seconds later? And where will you find a front derailleur that can handle the spread between that big ring and the more `terrestrial' smaller [39t, 30t] rings required for the flats, wind and/or inclines / climbing?)
So, in my analysis, putting a power meter on the bike will not address the fundamental problem that mountainous training presents, i.e., the lack of uninterrupted and continuous power and heart rate demand.
Here is where I find myself adding significant amount of time to indoor training, where I can place uninterrupted demand for increased watts and heart rate training.
Heart rate zone training is not as predictable and consistent as power meter training.
Say, for example, that I had a very heavy workout yesterday. It is probable that my heart rate today for the same effort would be higher. Essentially, if 30 minutes at 250 watts put my heart rate into Heart Rate Zone 2.5 yesterday my Heart Rate Zone would more likely be in the 3 - 3.25range today.
So there appears to be no doubt but that a power meter would solve the `hole' in mountainous terrain training. But is that the only solution? And, is that the most realistic solution?
---
On the long distance endurance cycling and racing I have done I have never used a power meter. Mostly because I didn't want to spend the money. (There is only so much of this stuff that I want to afford). But I have noted that if I attempted to maintain a particular speed it would impact my heart rate.
On the Race Across the West in 2010 (I dnf'd after 400 miles - insufficient training) my average heart rate was 106 bpm, i.e., just short ot my Heart Rate Zone 2 (111 bpm). I made good time to the Congress Time Station (#6) under the circumstances. But my endurance `terminated' at that point.
I `speculate' that if I attempted to keep to a particular power wattage (wisely set at a realistic number) for a long (12+ hours) span of time one of two things would happen. Either I'd learn that I'd have to reduce the wattage number, or, I'd learn that in maintaining that wattage number my heart rate would move too high, ultimately affecting my endurance. (Unless I were already on the `other side' of this experiment :))
---
Here is what I plan to do in my indoor training over the near (3 - 6 months) term. I will not purchase a power meter. Instead I will use Heart Rate Zone training to increase my endurance (and power).
Some practical (if not optimal) reasons:
- I don't want to spend any more money on expensive watt measurement indoor training stuff (e.g., CompuTrainer);
- I don't want to purchase a crank-based power meter ($2,500 to $4,000);
- I like the fact that the LeMond Revolution indoor trainer does not require a rear wheel;
- In the long run I want to increase my ability to stay in the upper ranges of Heart Rate Zone 2 (111-129 bpm) while not experiencing reduced endurance (and power).
So what would a 2 hour indoor HRZ workout look like? Here is yesterday's HRZ workout:
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- 20 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 3
- Resulting in an `Intensity Score' of 2.25 for the entire workout. (Contact me if you want to know how I came up with the `Intensity Score' factor).
- My subjective post-workout `fatigue' rating for yesterday was about 6.5 out of 10 (it had been 7 days since I was on a bike and I believe it would have been much lower, e.g., 3.5 - 4, otherwise).
Here is the 2 hour indoor HRZ workout for later today:
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutse at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 3
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutse at HRZ 2
- 5 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- 20 minutes at HRZ 2
- 10 minutes at HRZ 3
- 5 minutes at HRZ 1
- Resulting in and `Intensity Score' of 2.0 for the same two hour indoor workout.
It is my intention to post on this blog the experiences and outcome of this HRZ training method.
The Limits of Training in the Mountains
For quite a long time I've been going back and forth on this issue.
First, I've made the distinction between `indoor' training and `outdoor' training.
Indoor training. Some people just pedal and read a book. Others actually `train' and pay close attention to the numbers. My comments refer to the latter.
For 16 years I made dedicated good use of the CompuTrainer. I sold it last year when we moved from Chicago to the mountains of Arizona. I replaced the CompuTrainer with a LeMond Revolution.
The LeMond Revolution is different from the CT in that:
Perhaps surprising to many, I never really used the CT for power meter training. I used it almost exclusively for the novelty of programming known courses (Assault on Mt. Mitchell, RAAM stages, etc) and experiencing the entertainment factor of doing so. As well, since I could adjust the resistance to the rear wheel I'd program long hours of `x' resistance in my training. I made good use of the CT. And it offered me more (power metering) than I used it for.
Now something about the mountainous and hilly terrain in which I now live.
At this writing I've ridden 6,450 miles and climbed 496,000 feet since January 1, 2012. These are all `outdoor' miles and feet climbed. I guess I could have use the CT to simulate these indoors but it would never have been the same. Bike handling skills. Dealing with dramatically different roads and road conditions. Dealing with wind, cold, rain, snow and ice. None of that happens on an indoor trainer.
But there are drawbacks to training exclusively on long/short ascents and descents. The first and most frustrating for me is that, on the long descents (as many as 17 miles of continuous descending), I'm doing nothing but steering. That is, my heart rate drops to the 60's and I'm putting out NO power. Less frustrating but equally limiting is that, on the long ascents, I'm just grinding away at a low rpm and `manageable' heart rate in the 115 - 130 bpm range.
Alternating LONG periods of no watts with LONG periods of pushing 200 - 350 watts (my estimate) leaves a big hole in my physical conditioning for handling the real-world demand for constant application of watts for hour after hour. In otherwords, in my local terrain it is too much of a mix of `long rest' and `hard but short pressure.'
I recently completed a long time trial on a flat course. I'm in great shape and did well over the course (except for the 4 flat tires and the time it took to change tubes and tires). However, I didn't do as well as I had expected. After about 100 miles I noticed that my legs began to hurt, i.e., the uninterrupted application of watts became a limiting factor. I was used to `resting' on the many downhills in my local terrain.
So I now recognize the need to `fill in' the hole in my training. That is, I need to train without the benefit of the `rest' that the downhills offer me.
On my next blog entry I'll describe the problems associated with trying to measure / train with a power meter in my terrain.
First, I've made the distinction between `indoor' training and `outdoor' training.
Indoor training. Some people just pedal and read a book. Others actually `train' and pay close attention to the numbers. My comments refer to the latter.
For 16 years I made dedicated good use of the CompuTrainer. I sold it last year when we moved from Chicago to the mountains of Arizona. I replaced the CompuTrainer with a LeMond Revolution.
The LeMond Revolution is different from the CT in that:
- it measures nothing, i.e., it has no devices for cadence, power, time, heart rate, power,
- it is a wind trainer that has no electrical parts,
- it is noisier than a CT (i.e., air displacement is noisy),
- the complete LR unit comes in at $500 v. the CT at $1,500 t0 $2,000 (assuming computer and monitor interface),
- it is bulletproof strong with no wires, digital displays, or parts that can come loose or break,
- it eliminates rear wheel / tire problems (flat tires, rubber residue accumulation, needing to clean the tire with alcohol or a solvent to assure good grip, etc),
- there are (and probably never will be) `upgrades' in equipment or software,
- because of all of the above it is, for me, far simpler to set up and use (just get on the bike and start pedaling).
Perhaps surprising to many, I never really used the CT for power meter training. I used it almost exclusively for the novelty of programming known courses (Assault on Mt. Mitchell, RAAM stages, etc) and experiencing the entertainment factor of doing so. As well, since I could adjust the resistance to the rear wheel I'd program long hours of `x' resistance in my training. I made good use of the CT. And it offered me more (power metering) than I used it for.
Now something about the mountainous and hilly terrain in which I now live.
At this writing I've ridden 6,450 miles and climbed 496,000 feet since January 1, 2012. These are all `outdoor' miles and feet climbed. I guess I could have use the CT to simulate these indoors but it would never have been the same. Bike handling skills. Dealing with dramatically different roads and road conditions. Dealing with wind, cold, rain, snow and ice. None of that happens on an indoor trainer.
But there are drawbacks to training exclusively on long/short ascents and descents. The first and most frustrating for me is that, on the long descents (as many as 17 miles of continuous descending), I'm doing nothing but steering. That is, my heart rate drops to the 60's and I'm putting out NO power. Less frustrating but equally limiting is that, on the long ascents, I'm just grinding away at a low rpm and `manageable' heart rate in the 115 - 130 bpm range.
Alternating LONG periods of no watts with LONG periods of pushing 200 - 350 watts (my estimate) leaves a big hole in my physical conditioning for handling the real-world demand for constant application of watts for hour after hour. In otherwords, in my local terrain it is too much of a mix of `long rest' and `hard but short pressure.'
I recently completed a long time trial on a flat course. I'm in great shape and did well over the course (except for the 4 flat tires and the time it took to change tubes and tires). However, I didn't do as well as I had expected. After about 100 miles I noticed that my legs began to hurt, i.e., the uninterrupted application of watts became a limiting factor. I was used to `resting' on the many downhills in my local terrain.
So I now recognize the need to `fill in' the hole in my training. That is, I need to train without the benefit of the `rest' that the downhills offer me.
On my next blog entry I'll describe the problems associated with trying to measure / train with a power meter in my terrain.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
2013 Cycling Calendar ... WIP
Work in Progress.
So much has settled in my private life over the past few months that, barring life's certain monkey wrenches, 2013 looks like the `year of competitive cycling' for me.
I, like many of us, need a concrete event ahead of me to anchor my training. Just yesterday I made the decision to participate in the Sebring 24 hour non-drafting event in February. A good friend, Allan Duhm, is making it much more possible for me to do this by putting me up and letting me transport the bike from the airport to the race location and back.
I realize now that I should have had a crew last week when I did the World's Time Trial Championship 24 Hour event in Coachella Valley. And, frankly, I just needed to switch out a new wheel/tire each time I got a flat (4!). Hydration and fuel and clothing we're fine without support. Who would have expected a 7 mile stretch of 86/78 to be so filled with shredded truck tires, pieces of pipe, metal, glass and junk on the shoulder! I got 3 of the 4 flat tires on that 7 mile stretch. Even with excellent Conti 4000 tires and tire liners (for added insurance ... I thought).
Sebring doesn't allow crewed vehicles as support on the course. And I haven't heard horror stories from previous participants about the road and debris. Wrapping up night riding on a closed 3.1 mile course adds another layer of predictability to a successful, unimpeded crack at a 24 Hour record. Worth it!!!
Anchoring the end of the 2013 season is the Hoodoo 300 event in September. I crewed for Dave Ellsbury in his Hoodoo 500 effort in 2012. Dave's an incredible cyclist, having successfully finished the Hoodoo 500 and RAAM the previous two attempts. Although he had to DNF on the Hoodoo 500 this year he went on to be a strong finisher at the World's 24 Hour Time Trials in Coachella Valley last weekend.
So, the bookend events for 2013 are Sebring 24 non-drafting in Florida next February and the Hoodoo 300 in Utah next September.
Lot's of options for events in between and they will become clearer as time goes on.
So much has settled in my private life over the past few months that, barring life's certain monkey wrenches, 2013 looks like the `year of competitive cycling' for me.
I, like many of us, need a concrete event ahead of me to anchor my training. Just yesterday I made the decision to participate in the Sebring 24 hour non-drafting event in February. A good friend, Allan Duhm, is making it much more possible for me to do this by putting me up and letting me transport the bike from the airport to the race location and back.
I realize now that I should have had a crew last week when I did the World's Time Trial Championship 24 Hour event in Coachella Valley. And, frankly, I just needed to switch out a new wheel/tire each time I got a flat (4!). Hydration and fuel and clothing we're fine without support. Who would have expected a 7 mile stretch of 86/78 to be so filled with shredded truck tires, pieces of pipe, metal, glass and junk on the shoulder! I got 3 of the 4 flat tires on that 7 mile stretch. Even with excellent Conti 4000 tires and tire liners (for added insurance ... I thought).
Sebring doesn't allow crewed vehicles as support on the course. And I haven't heard horror stories from previous participants about the road and debris. Wrapping up night riding on a closed 3.1 mile course adds another layer of predictability to a successful, unimpeded crack at a 24 Hour record. Worth it!!!
Anchoring the end of the 2013 season is the Hoodoo 300 event in September. I crewed for Dave Ellsbury in his Hoodoo 500 effort in 2012. Dave's an incredible cyclist, having successfully finished the Hoodoo 500 and RAAM the previous two attempts. Although he had to DNF on the Hoodoo 500 this year he went on to be a strong finisher at the World's 24 Hour Time Trials in Coachella Valley last weekend.
So, the bookend events for 2013 are Sebring 24 non-drafting in Florida next February and the Hoodoo 300 in Utah next September.
Lot's of options for events in between and they will become clearer as time goes on.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Recovery and re-entry
On the second lap of the first loop on the World 24 Hr Time Trial I ran out of liquid nutrition one hour before I finished and I ran out of water 2.5 hours before I finished. So many flat tires, waiting, etc, made that lap almost `forever.'
When I finally did come into the finish it was around 11:30am. As JV mentioned in his posts the weather was unusually hot.
Dehydration combined with the intense heat took a growing toll on me as I was wrapping up and loading the car. Dehydration is like that. You don't notice it until it's almost too late.
Despite the fact that I made a good effort to rehydrate at the end ... the heat threw me. The Garmin registered between 96F and 104F the last half hour. For a while I was actually seeing `spots' in front of my eyes. That's when I got into the car and cranked up the AC for about a full half hour.
Wisely, when I got back to the hotel I just lay down, continued to hydrate and take it easy. Seemed to work. The next morning - early - I felt almost 100%. Walked around the hotel grounds, had breakfast with a few racers and our wives, and got in the car and drove for six hours.
Since last Saturday I've been taking care of domestic and family duties I had neglected for a few weeks before the race. So, today ... I'm ready to get back on the bike and train again.
I'm actually very surprised that I've recovered so well and so completely. I'll be 67 in a few months and ... I'm sort of expecting it to show.
Now that it is `winter' out here (much MUCH less severe than Chicago) I'll be back doing about 50-50% indoor / outdoor training for a while. (Frankly, I can literally avoid winter completely by driving 16 miles and 3,000 feet south --- which I'll build into my training for the winter).
Looking back on the WTT24 I'm very, very pleased with my performance. My first lap was competitive with JV's, except for the flats. After that it all went to hell fast.
I consider the WTT24 performance a good indicator of overall fitness and endurance. It makes me want to target UMCA events and compete, which is something I've not done in the past. (In the past I knew I was a working stiff and could do myself more harm than good).
I don't think I want to afford making it to Sebring this February. But there are several local events (300 miles or so from my house) that I can target.
As well, if I'm going to `compete' I need to round up a crew so that mechanicals don't undo good effort.
Should be a good winter.
When I finally did come into the finish it was around 11:30am. As JV mentioned in his posts the weather was unusually hot.
Dehydration combined with the intense heat took a growing toll on me as I was wrapping up and loading the car. Dehydration is like that. You don't notice it until it's almost too late.
Despite the fact that I made a good effort to rehydrate at the end ... the heat threw me. The Garmin registered between 96F and 104F the last half hour. For a while I was actually seeing `spots' in front of my eyes. That's when I got into the car and cranked up the AC for about a full half hour.
Wisely, when I got back to the hotel I just lay down, continued to hydrate and take it easy. Seemed to work. The next morning - early - I felt almost 100%. Walked around the hotel grounds, had breakfast with a few racers and our wives, and got in the car and drove for six hours.
Since last Saturday I've been taking care of domestic and family duties I had neglected for a few weeks before the race. So, today ... I'm ready to get back on the bike and train again.
I'm actually very surprised that I've recovered so well and so completely. I'll be 67 in a few months and ... I'm sort of expecting it to show.
Now that it is `winter' out here (much MUCH less severe than Chicago) I'll be back doing about 50-50% indoor / outdoor training for a while. (Frankly, I can literally avoid winter completely by driving 16 miles and 3,000 feet south --- which I'll build into my training for the winter).
Looking back on the WTT24 I'm very, very pleased with my performance. My first lap was competitive with JV's, except for the flats. After that it all went to hell fast.
I consider the WTT24 performance a good indicator of overall fitness and endurance. It makes me want to target UMCA events and compete, which is something I've not done in the past. (In the past I knew I was a working stiff and could do myself more harm than good).
I don't think I want to afford making it to Sebring this February. But there are several local events (300 miles or so from my house) that I can target.
As well, if I'm going to `compete' I need to round up a crew so that mechanicals don't undo good effort.
Should be a good winter.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Heartbeat and persistance
I haven't been to the UMCA website for ages. I just clicked there and looked up
`me' and when my membership needs to be renewed. Then I checked my
`standings.' I didn't know they kept track of me. (UMCA - My 2012 Standings)
Here are some pleasant but still somewhat surprising World standings for me:
Pleasant because I've had what I consider to be a good `learning' year but bad `performance' year.
So, the challenges for 2013 are to:
Here are some pleasant but still somewhat surprising World standings for me:
- I am ranked #1 for male age 60-69 recumbents Race Standings by Division;
- I am ranked #1 for male age 60-69 recumbent World Cup Division Standings;
- I am ranked #1 for male age 60-69 recumbent 24 Hour Division Standings;
- I am ranked #2 for male age 60-69 recumbent UltraCycling Cup Division Standings;
- I am ranked # 22 for male 24-hour Overall Standings;
- I am ranked # 39 for male World Cup Overall Standings;
- I am ranked # 58 for male UltraCycling Cup Overall Standings.
Pleasant because I've had what I consider to be a good `learning' year but bad `performance' year.
So, the challenges for 2013 are to:
- stay alive
- apply my learnings
- substantially improve my performance.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Ironic
Yesterday I spent 3 hours on the indoor trainer. The outside weather was ideal: 70's, sunny, little wind, very little traffic. So why did I train indoors?
Ever since we moved to the `mountains' I've found it `annoying' that I'd encounter descents that just go on forever. There is a course that rises at 5-7% for 5 miles but thereafter it is a full 17 mile descent into the rock desert. Another nearby course has a 9 mile continuous descent.
On these descents my heart rate drops into the 70's. As I'm descending I'm constantly harumphing about the wasted time, the lost opportunity to do something other than steer and deal with crosswinds.
Of course, when there are downs there are always ups. And that is almost persuasive.
An irony has occurred in that I now find myself mixing some intense indoor work with the almost limitless variety and challenge of riding outdoors.
Before we moved to the mountains I lived in the middle of gridlocked Chicago. Even if the weather was great I'd have to spend an hour riding the bike through the city before I got to open road. Or, I'd pack the bike onto my pickup and drive 45 minutes one way to hit the wonderful farm roads.
I spent hours and hours on the CompuTrainer when I lived in Chicago.
Training is not `going for a bike ride.' There is a plan to it. And training sessions are an integrated sequence of related activities that build strength, endurance and mental resilience.
Yesterday's 3 hour indoor workout was a 12 on a 1-10 scale in terms of intensity and quality. As most serious cyclists can testify a good indoor workout is about 2 - 3 times as taxing as an outdoor workout. One hour indoors can equate to 2 -3 hours of outdoor work.
No downhills. No traffic congestion. No road impediments. The following link to yesterday's indoor workout illustrates how one can really focus on the training task at hand: 3 Hours on the LeMond Revolution Indoor Trainer
The 24 hour time trial coming up is on flat terrain where I won't have the `luxury' of natural breaks afforded by downhill sections of my local mountainous terrain. Except for bike handling skills afforded by roads and wind the indoor trainer `keeps the pressure on.' The Garmin data above demonstrates how I interspersed increasing wattage demands with 5 minute `rests.' Not possible in the mountains. The intent is to test and build my capacity for uninterrupted, continuous effort / watts.
In a few minutes I'll be on the indoor trainer again. This time will be for 5 hours. Much lower intensity level. However, I'll also be able to experiment with a few ideas associated with hydration and carrying liquid fuel. Another advantage of not being out on the road.
And then, tomorrow, a long outdoor training session.
Ever since we moved to the `mountains' I've found it `annoying' that I'd encounter descents that just go on forever. There is a course that rises at 5-7% for 5 miles but thereafter it is a full 17 mile descent into the rock desert. Another nearby course has a 9 mile continuous descent.
On these descents my heart rate drops into the 70's. As I'm descending I'm constantly harumphing about the wasted time, the lost opportunity to do something other than steer and deal with crosswinds.
Of course, when there are downs there are always ups. And that is almost persuasive.
An irony has occurred in that I now find myself mixing some intense indoor work with the almost limitless variety and challenge of riding outdoors.
Before we moved to the mountains I lived in the middle of gridlocked Chicago. Even if the weather was great I'd have to spend an hour riding the bike through the city before I got to open road. Or, I'd pack the bike onto my pickup and drive 45 minutes one way to hit the wonderful farm roads.
I spent hours and hours on the CompuTrainer when I lived in Chicago.
Training is not `going for a bike ride.' There is a plan to it. And training sessions are an integrated sequence of related activities that build strength, endurance and mental resilience.
Yesterday's 3 hour indoor workout was a 12 on a 1-10 scale in terms of intensity and quality. As most serious cyclists can testify a good indoor workout is about 2 - 3 times as taxing as an outdoor workout. One hour indoors can equate to 2 -3 hours of outdoor work.
No downhills. No traffic congestion. No road impediments. The following link to yesterday's indoor workout illustrates how one can really focus on the training task at hand: 3 Hours on the LeMond Revolution Indoor Trainer
The 24 hour time trial coming up is on flat terrain where I won't have the `luxury' of natural breaks afforded by downhill sections of my local mountainous terrain. Except for bike handling skills afforded by roads and wind the indoor trainer `keeps the pressure on.' The Garmin data above demonstrates how I interspersed increasing wattage demands with 5 minute `rests.' Not possible in the mountains. The intent is to test and build my capacity for uninterrupted, continuous effort / watts.
In a few minutes I'll be on the indoor trainer again. This time will be for 5 hours. Much lower intensity level. However, I'll also be able to experiment with a few ideas associated with hydration and carrying liquid fuel. Another advantage of not being out on the road.
And then, tomorrow, a long outdoor training session.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
What's the difference?
A while ago a wonderful bicycle shop entrepreneur and I had a conversation about `happiness.' She's become happier of late because she and her husband have reduced family demands and now have more time for eachother. And it showed: she glowed.
She asked me if I were happy. I didn't know. Truly. I've never known.
There have been many, many times in my life when I've experienced joy and felt grateful for it. But those experiences are - happily - transient.
It's like having ice cream and cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Too much of `happy' dilutes things.
Things?!
Yes. `Things' like purpose.
Purpose is more central to the experience of a meaningful existence to me than being happy.
----
So how, again, does this relate to bicycling?
I was out the door today at 6:30am and got back at 3:30am. My neighbor saw me loading my bike on the car this morning. As I was taking my bike off the car this afternoon he was returning from his job. He gave me a sort of stunned quizzical look, like: "Have you been on the bike for 9 hours?"
Not on the bike for the whole 9 hours, no. But I was all about the bike for 9 hours. Over the course of an 82 mile 8,800 feet of climbing training ride I stopped several times to dial in the bike in preparation for a 24 hour time trial on dead flat terrain. I needed to adjust the recline of the seat to gain the most aero position. And then I needed to adjust the stem and handlebars so that they were comfortably within reach. I must have made a dozen adjustments on the fly to dial things in. It was very, very interesting. I felt that I had made great progress. And that is meaningful.
It felt good to be so productively engaged in this work of improving my skill and capacity as a cyclist. In fact, it felt very much like my past work life as a clinical psychologist. Or my past work life as a labor relations professional. Or my past work life as the owner of an insurance brokerage agency. I was working at something that had genuine meaning, was a big challenge, and required patience, persistence and significant sacrifice.
So, what is the difference between `now' and `then?'
For one thing I have to carry this albatross of being what other people call `retired.' It's a category, or pigeon-hole, into which many of us are swept. Or, sadly, a pigeon-hole into which many of us sink into, not knowing how to initiate our own life.
Am I `better' at cycling than I was 30 - 40 years ago? Worse? Is it due to age? Is it due to more investment in training?
I am better at cycling now. Because I'm focused on it.
I was better as a clinical psychologist then than before I was a clinical psychologist. Because I was focused on it then.
Same with the other work that I've done in my life.
Actually, the statement that replaces the rhetorical question of `What is the difference?' is that there is no difference now. I'm still putting intense energy and time into something important, rewarding and meaningful to me. Purpose.
So ... I'm `happy' to have not labeled myself as this or that. I'm the same: focused, persistant and dedicated.
She asked me if I were happy. I didn't know. Truly. I've never known.
There have been many, many times in my life when I've experienced joy and felt grateful for it. But those experiences are - happily - transient.
It's like having ice cream and cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Too much of `happy' dilutes things.
Things?!
Yes. `Things' like purpose.
Purpose is more central to the experience of a meaningful existence to me than being happy.
----
So how, again, does this relate to bicycling?
I was out the door today at 6:30am and got back at 3:30am. My neighbor saw me loading my bike on the car this morning. As I was taking my bike off the car this afternoon he was returning from his job. He gave me a sort of stunned quizzical look, like: "Have you been on the bike for 9 hours?"
Not on the bike for the whole 9 hours, no. But I was all about the bike for 9 hours. Over the course of an 82 mile 8,800 feet of climbing training ride I stopped several times to dial in the bike in preparation for a 24 hour time trial on dead flat terrain. I needed to adjust the recline of the seat to gain the most aero position. And then I needed to adjust the stem and handlebars so that they were comfortably within reach. I must have made a dozen adjustments on the fly to dial things in. It was very, very interesting. I felt that I had made great progress. And that is meaningful.
It felt good to be so productively engaged in this work of improving my skill and capacity as a cyclist. In fact, it felt very much like my past work life as a clinical psychologist. Or my past work life as a labor relations professional. Or my past work life as the owner of an insurance brokerage agency. I was working at something that had genuine meaning, was a big challenge, and required patience, persistence and significant sacrifice.
So, what is the difference between `now' and `then?'
For one thing I have to carry this albatross of being what other people call `retired.' It's a category, or pigeon-hole, into which many of us are swept. Or, sadly, a pigeon-hole into which many of us sink into, not knowing how to initiate our own life.
Am I `better' at cycling than I was 30 - 40 years ago? Worse? Is it due to age? Is it due to more investment in training?
I am better at cycling now. Because I'm focused on it.
I was better as a clinical psychologist then than before I was a clinical psychologist. Because I was focused on it then.
Same with the other work that I've done in my life.
Actually, the statement that replaces the rhetorical question of `What is the difference?' is that there is no difference now. I'm still putting intense energy and time into something important, rewarding and meaningful to me. Purpose.
So ... I'm `happy' to have not labeled myself as this or that. I'm the same: focused, persistant and dedicated.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
How Bad do you want to be Good (on a recumbent)?
I know and can name at least 4 or 5 people who could say this better than me.
The other day a new recumbent rider with a fairly distinguished history as a diamond frame rider said to me: "On the DF I'd be able to get my `climbing legs' in about 3 days of a long event. Two weeks in the Dolomites in Italy on my carbon fiber high racer recumbent and I was still last up the hill, and half dead doing it. What does it take?"
A few of my thoughts were:
Do you think Lance could have given Ulrich `the look' if he had been on a recumbent?! Nope. That exquisite piece of drama wouldn't have occurred.
So, back to the title of this post: How Bad do you want to be Good (on a recumbent). It takes the same grim determination and discipline to be good on both platforms. But ... a recumbent rider has to forego some of the `fun' and excitement that a DF rider enjoys. At least that's what I think.
The other day a new recumbent rider with a fairly distinguished history as a diamond frame rider said to me: "On the DF I'd be able to get my `climbing legs' in about 3 days of a long event. Two weeks in the Dolomites in Italy on my carbon fiber high racer recumbent and I was still last up the hill, and half dead doing it. What does it take?"
A few of my thoughts were:
- On a DF you can `fall on' the pedals (dump your weight on each pedal) on the steep climbs;
- On a DF you can move your body around on the bike and recruit different muscles as you grind your way up a hill: sitting, out of the saddle, pushing your pelvis back or forward on the saddle, sit up and spin and rest, throw the bike left and right to loosen muscles and relax the back, etc...;
- A well trained recumbent rider can climb as fast as a well trained DF rider, all things (except bike) being equal;
- A recumbent rider has one, and only one, position on the bike and all the power comes from the legs and hips in that one position;
- A recumbent rider has to master `enduring' that one position the entire duration of a climb ... and that takes deliberate training of the muscular system (and mental foucus).
- On long climbs I vary the power but not the cadence. This allows me to rest some muscles periodically.
- On suddenly steep climbs I employ ankle pedalling, like a turbocharger that gives short bursts of power.
- Pushing up a long climb, even if the watts are low and the cadence is high, will have an impact on your knees that requires time to manage. The knees experience stress forces unmitigated by the DF's ability to `fall' on the pedals. To be competitive the recumbent rider must carefully, over several months, increase the capacity of the knees to deal with the stress. Ligaments and muscles have to be developed and strengthened, cell by cell. And that takes very careful and consistent training.
Do you think Lance could have given Ulrich `the look' if he had been on a recumbent?! Nope. That exquisite piece of drama wouldn't have occurred.
So, back to the title of this post: How Bad do you want to be Good (on a recumbent). It takes the same grim determination and discipline to be good on both platforms. But ... a recumbent rider has to forego some of the `fun' and excitement that a DF rider enjoys. At least that's what I think.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
A few tips about tires and flats
I've been putting in more miles on the bike lately and, despite having great, grippy tires I've had 2 flats in the last two training sessions. Each time the flat was due to going over a `goat head.'
I ride the Bacchetta Ti Aero most of the time and it has 650 wheels and tires. I use bombproof Velocity wheels because they've been extremely strong and reliable.
When I ride the Bacchetta Carbon Aero (CA2) I have 700 wheels and tires. The wheels are nothing really special but they're also strong and reliable.
On both wheels I run Continental Gatorskins (650's and 700's). I'd be happy with Conti 4000's too. But ... I have what I have at this point. (I also have some Schwalbe Durano Plus 700's and am comfortable with them).
Some of my tires are `foldable' and some are wire bead. For some reason it is very hard to mount both kinds of tires on the 650 wheels. It isn't as hard to mount the tires on the 700's, but it is still quite a struggle.
Getting a flat on the open road in the high desert or mountain grades (or anywhere else, for that matter) is a pain. And having to struggle with getting the tire back on the wheel rim is even worse. But I've made it easier with a simple fix.
I carry a small plastic vial of powdered chalk (you can get it in a hardware store). When I'm down to the last few inches of mounting the tire I spread some powdered chalk on that section. This substantially lubricates the interface between the rubber and the metal. I mean `SUBSTANTIALLY.' I don't struggle anymore. The first effort is usually the last effort.
Another things I've begun doing (again) is putting tire liners between the tube and the tire. I use to do this all the time when I rode in the city (Chicago - a lot of small pieces of metal easily penetrated any tire).
Even though the tires I currently use are excellent they are still no match for mother nature's `goat head.' They are sharp enough and just long enough to work themselves through the tire thickness (23's) that I use.
Adding another layer of firm plastic between the tire and the tube seems to defeat the goat head.
I've heard from others that they've had problems with the tire liners, that the `ends' of the liner are sharp enough to pinch the tube into flatting. I've never experienced that problem but I've taken steps to minimize that from happening.
First, I cut the edges of the tire liner to round it. Then I take a metal file and `smooth' the edges. Finally I carefully measure the tire liner so that it doesn't overlap and doesn't leave a big gap between the edges when in the tire. This last step also helps reduce or eliminate a small `thumping' feeling I may get when descending on smooth road.
I ride the Bacchetta Ti Aero most of the time and it has 650 wheels and tires. I use bombproof Velocity wheels because they've been extremely strong and reliable.
When I ride the Bacchetta Carbon Aero (CA2) I have 700 wheels and tires. The wheels are nothing really special but they're also strong and reliable.
On both wheels I run Continental Gatorskins (650's and 700's). I'd be happy with Conti 4000's too. But ... I have what I have at this point. (I also have some Schwalbe Durano Plus 700's and am comfortable with them).
Some of my tires are `foldable' and some are wire bead. For some reason it is very hard to mount both kinds of tires on the 650 wheels. It isn't as hard to mount the tires on the 700's, but it is still quite a struggle.
Getting a flat on the open road in the high desert or mountain grades (or anywhere else, for that matter) is a pain. And having to struggle with getting the tire back on the wheel rim is even worse. But I've made it easier with a simple fix.
I carry a small plastic vial of powdered chalk (you can get it in a hardware store). When I'm down to the last few inches of mounting the tire I spread some powdered chalk on that section. This substantially lubricates the interface between the rubber and the metal. I mean `SUBSTANTIALLY.' I don't struggle anymore. The first effort is usually the last effort.
Another things I've begun doing (again) is putting tire liners between the tube and the tire. I use to do this all the time when I rode in the city (Chicago - a lot of small pieces of metal easily penetrated any tire).
Even though the tires I currently use are excellent they are still no match for mother nature's `goat head.' They are sharp enough and just long enough to work themselves through the tire thickness (23's) that I use.
Adding another layer of firm plastic between the tire and the tube seems to defeat the goat head.
I've heard from others that they've had problems with the tire liners, that the `ends' of the liner are sharp enough to pinch the tube into flatting. I've never experienced that problem but I've taken steps to minimize that from happening.
First, I cut the edges of the tire liner to round it. Then I take a metal file and `smooth' the edges. Finally I carefully measure the tire liner so that it doesn't overlap and doesn't leave a big gap between the edges when in the tire. This last step also helps reduce or eliminate a small `thumping' feeling I may get when descending on smooth road.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
"Bents can't climb" NOT!!!
I recently participated in a `race / ride' called the Skull Valley Loop Challenge. It's a 52 mile, 4800 feet of climbing loop from Prescott, AZ, south into the desert and back up the White Spars (RAAM / RAW route).
Though a few other folks in Prescott own recumbents and ride them I'm currently the only one that trains hard for time and distance (ultra stuff).
The previous year there were about 148 entrants in the SVLC. Having just moved to Prescott I entered on the Ti Aero (and weighing about 40 lbs more than I do now). I was the only recumbent. At that time I placed 52nd for a time of 3:21:00.
This year there were 179 entrants in the SVLC. Again, I was the only recumbent in the event. I rode the CA2. I didn't use any carrying device (no bag). I put a C02 cartridge, tube and levers in a small bag and stuck it in my jersey. I carried a 16 oz bottle of my usual maltodextrin / water mix. This year I placed 34/35 (tie) for a time of 2:49:00. Skull Valley Loop Challenge - 2012 That is a 32 minute improvement from last year.
A few things having to do with my strategy.
Had I tried to `burn all my matches' from the first to the last I don't think I would have done so well. The strategy and tactics that I used maximized natural advantages (stamina, endurance, power) and minimized the initial climbing disadvantages in the first 5 mile climb.
The previous year there were about 148 entrants in the SVLC. Having just moved to Prescott I entered on the Ti Aero (and weighing about 40 lbs more than I do now). I was the only recumbent. At that time I placed 52nd for a time of 3:21:00.
This year there were 179 entrants in the SVLC. Again, I was the only recumbent in the event. I rode the CA2. I didn't use any carrying device (no bag). I put a C02 cartridge, tube and levers in a small bag and stuck it in my jersey. I carried a 16 oz bottle of my usual maltodextrin / water mix. This year I placed 34/35 (tie) for a time of 2:49:00. Skull Valley Loop Challenge - 2012 That is a 32 minute improvement from last year.
A few things having to do with my strategy.
- I kept a liquid diet the day before.
- I hydrated and fueled very well before the race.
- I wore (and needed) the external catheter. (Peed 4 times ... very discretely.
- The bike was stripped down, i.e., minimal water and tools. No bags. Triple 53/39/30 with a 10 spd 11/32 rear cassette. 700cc wheels of course.
- Last year I waited until ALL riders left the start line before I took off. This year I was at the front line and took off in the lead pack.
- PLANNED: On the 2 mile flat section before a 5 mile steep climb I pushed to be in the lead ... and was.
- PLANNED: When I hit the 5 mile steep climb I didn't challenge anyone; I just kept the HR at a reasonable number while I was passed by many cyclists.
- PLANNED: At the top of the 5 mile steep climb there is a screaming 19 mile twisting descent. I was not passed by ANYbody on the descent; I passed everybody within sight.
- PLANNED: At mile 30.2 begins a steady and relentless 9 mile climb (4 - 8% incline/grade). My plan was to crank up the hill at a HR of 140 - 142 bpm until the 6th mile. Then my plan was to crank up the hill at a HR no greater than 150 bpm.
- STRATEGY: What I may have lacked in climbing speed I more than made up for in stamina and endurance. I was passed only once by the owner of the LBS and his wife on a tandem. As the tandem was struggling to pass me I simply noted that if I kept my pace / HR I would pass them. And I did.
- PLANNED: When I passed the 6th mile of climbing I increased my effort / watts to approach the HR of 150 bpms for the next 3 miles. I began passing several other cyclists again. STRATEGY: Exploit my stamina and endurance, despite the fact that the cyclists all seemed to weigh 30 - 50 lbs less than me.
- PLANNED: After mile 40 the long climb transitioned to a series of steep, twisty descents and ascents until mile 48. I let myself make the maximum effort for speed with no regard to HR bpm. Hammer up the hills and scream down the descents. The tandem that had been trailing me passed me once (at clear maximum effort). I didn't challenge them at that time. I kept to my plans and passed them again and finally shortly thereafter.
- NOTE: It is common for cyclists, when they crest a hill, to back off on effort and rest a little. My strategy is to do the opposite. Once I crest the hill I dramatically increase my effort and watts to achieve maximum speed. This results in a few effects: first, it surprises those ahead of me when I pass them; second, it cuts into their motivation (psychological) to have someone inrease their effort just when they are backing off, exhausted.
- PLANNED: I continued to pass everyone I encountered that was ahead of me. There is a final climb (100 yards) to a crest, thereafter it is 4 miles of ranging descent to the finish line. I continued pouring everything I had into the remaining distance and, in the process, reeled in another 5 cyclists.
Had I tried to `burn all my matches' from the first to the last I don't think I would have done so well. The strategy and tactics that I used maximized natural advantages (stamina, endurance, power) and minimized the initial climbing disadvantages in the first 5 mile climb.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
How I Rationalize My Athletic Failures
As I age (and age and age) I have a new ally in my many shortcomings: rationalization.
"I'd do better but I'm an `older athlete,' so that's o.k."
And then a patient, Cheshire smile. (Now slowly blink your eyes and pat your belly).
Greying hair turning silvery white adds a sort of distinction to getting worse and worse and worse. Isn't that a dirty trick!
While wishing I were in the Olympics but searching for a way to let myself off the hook I came upon this interesting essay:
------
Against Athletic Pride
Brian Jay Stanley
Watching Olympic swimmers paddling through the water with gangly legs and arms, heaving their heads up for air, unequipped with fins or gills, I question the pride of the champions.
Goldfish in an aquarium move more gracefully.
Is not a contest of humans swimming like a contest of fish running?
If animals competed in the Olympics, few humans would win medals.
To be an Einstein is to comprehend more of physics than any other mind in the known universe. But to win a gold medal in the Olympics is merely to stand atop one's narrow class of competitors, human beings, who share the same evolutionary handicaps.
The Olympics are really the Special Olympics.
------
Being old enough to find one's own history filed away in a folder in the National Archives (true) puts a new spin on cycling event records. When I turned 60 I was elated. Now I could be at the back of the pack and still be `first' in my age-category. "(F)or his age category" always followed "And a new record was set by Dan Fallon."
Like I have said many times in the past: I'm special. (Given my age).
And then a patient, Cheshire smile. (Now slowly blink your eyes and pat your belly).
Greying hair turning silvery white adds a sort of distinction to getting worse and worse and worse. Isn't that a dirty trick!
While wishing I were in the Olympics but searching for a way to let myself off the hook I came upon this interesting essay:
------
Against Athletic Pride
Brian Jay Stanley
Watching Olympic swimmers paddling through the water with gangly legs and arms, heaving their heads up for air, unequipped with fins or gills, I question the pride of the champions.
Goldfish in an aquarium move more gracefully.
Is not a contest of humans swimming like a contest of fish running?
If animals competed in the Olympics, few humans would win medals.
- An elephant or rhinoceros would hurl our strongest wrestlers from the mat like plastic dolls.
- Our fastest sprinters would lose the 50-meter dash to their cats.
- Schools of sardines would dominate synchronized swimming.
Feats of intellect should be accorded more honor than feats of athleticism.
To be an Einstein is to comprehend more of physics than any other mind in the known universe. But to win a gold medal in the Olympics is merely to stand atop one's narrow class of competitors, human beings, who share the same evolutionary handicaps.
The Olympics are really the Special Olympics.
------
Being old enough to find one's own history filed away in a folder in the National Archives (true) puts a new spin on cycling event records. When I turned 60 I was elated. Now I could be at the back of the pack and still be `first' in my age-category. "(F)or his age category" always followed "And a new record was set by Dan Fallon."
Like I have said many times in the past: I'm special. (Given my age).
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Hoodoo `300' - 2013
Having crewed for the 500 this year the thought, of course, came to me as to whether or not I would consider entering the Hoodoo 500 for 2013 (mid-September).
The 500 is a `monster' race. And I mean `monster' and `race.' Forty-eight hours. Though the roads are fine there is an immense amount of (steep) and constant climbing (40,000 feet - give or take several thousand feed depending upon which device you use).
I concluded that though I could probably finish the 500 I couldn't do it as a race. I'd be very happy to consider it as a serious goal, and an exceptional accomplishment.
Just the other day my curiosity and interest has been renewed for this race, though. The race directors have announced that they will be offering two venues for the `Hoodoo.' The first option is just that, a 500 mile race (solo, team, unsupported voyageur). The second option is a 300 mile race (same categories) with a 24 hour limit. And on 300 miles of the same course as the 500 mile course.
There have NEVER been any recumbents registered for the Hoodoo 500. My conclusion is that this is the case due to the endless (many 13%ers) climbing.
I've currently ridden 4,700 miles with over 360,000 feet of climbing since Jan of 2012. I'll likely close out 2012 with over 500,000 feet of climbing (7,000 - 9,000 miles) out here in the AZ mountains. Many of these climbs have included non-stop 22+ miles of 6 - 8% (with a few 12 - 16%ers thrown in).
I'm thinking seriously about doing the Hoodoo 300 as a non-supported Voyageur. The 300 has a finish time limit of 24 hours (instead of the 48 hours for the 500). The race directors will have drop bags at 2 or 3 locations for voyageurs.
So, I'd encourage others of us to consider this otherwise frightening race for their 2013 calendar. Remember, it can be done with crew support, as a 2 - 4 person team, or as an unsupported `Voyageur.'
The 500 is a `monster' race. And I mean `monster' and `race.' Forty-eight hours. Though the roads are fine there is an immense amount of (steep) and constant climbing (40,000 feet - give or take several thousand feed depending upon which device you use).
I concluded that though I could probably finish the 500 I couldn't do it as a race. I'd be very happy to consider it as a serious goal, and an exceptional accomplishment.
Just the other day my curiosity and interest has been renewed for this race, though. The race directors have announced that they will be offering two venues for the `Hoodoo.' The first option is just that, a 500 mile race (solo, team, unsupported voyageur). The second option is a 300 mile race (same categories) with a 24 hour limit. And on 300 miles of the same course as the 500 mile course.
There have NEVER been any recumbents registered for the Hoodoo 500. My conclusion is that this is the case due to the endless (many 13%ers) climbing.
I've currently ridden 4,700 miles with over 360,000 feet of climbing since Jan of 2012. I'll likely close out 2012 with over 500,000 feet of climbing (7,000 - 9,000 miles) out here in the AZ mountains. Many of these climbs have included non-stop 22+ miles of 6 - 8% (with a few 12 - 16%ers thrown in).
I'm thinking seriously about doing the Hoodoo 300 as a non-supported Voyageur. The 300 has a finish time limit of 24 hours (instead of the 48 hours for the 500). The race directors will have drop bags at 2 or 3 locations for voyageurs.
So, I'd encourage others of us to consider this otherwise frightening race for their 2013 calendar. Remember, it can be done with crew support, as a 2 - 4 person team, or as an unsupported `Voyageur.'
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Hills and Weight - ups and downs
I just finished crewing for a a friend in his solo effort to complete a 516 mile, 40,000 feet of climbing race (Hoodoo 500) in 48 hours. He is a veteran of two RAAM completions (finisher) and a finisher in two previous Hoodoo 500 races. So he had nothing to prove to anybody about his ability.
As all ultracyclists know there are `times' and then there are `times.' This year my friend experienced gastric problems that drastically reduced his ability to take in calories. As the hours of his racing wore on he took on fewer and fewer calories. Finally, after 17 hours, 247 miles and 20,000 feet of climbing he knew it was over for him. His strength and endurance were fatally impacted by the inability to consume `fuel.' (I mean, how many endlessly long 13% hills can you climb without eating?!)
It takes character and emotional resilience to be know when to stop. Even more so, it takes maturity and experience not to blame yourself for not achieving the near-impossible. And in this regard I found his wisdom and good cheer refreshing and ... motivating.
Anybody who has crewed on an ultracycling event and says that they enjoyed it gets three free psychotherapy sessions from me! Crewing is hard. It's uncomfortable. And it is extremely demanding.
My normal weight is 185. When I weighed myself after crewing it was up to 198.6 lbs. (Today, after a 55 mile 4,800 feet of climbing 4 hour training ride - very well hydrated - it was 182.6)
Why the dramatic weight gain? Water. Bowels fill up and peristalsis goes on strike. Lack of physical movement causes my body to just `absorb' to the max.
Crewing puts you in a car or van, following your racer, at an average speed of 13 mph. One of the crew is driving. Another is navigating and keeping in contact with the racer. And I was preparing the food, hydration, recording everything in 15 minute increments.
The racer doesn't stop. And neither did the crew vehicle (except to get gas, pick up ice for the cooler, some grim road food, use the facilities). And for this race (48 hour time limit) sleeping is something that may or may not happen as a crewmember.
The crew is always `alert' to the racer. If the racer tells us we're the best crew s/he's ever had a little bright light of sunshine enters our grim boring world. If the racer is vomiting, has diarrhea, is cramping ... we scour our experiences and knowledge to make it `go away.'
Me? I'd rather race than crew. Crewing is harder.
As all ultracyclists know there are `times' and then there are `times.' This year my friend experienced gastric problems that drastically reduced his ability to take in calories. As the hours of his racing wore on he took on fewer and fewer calories. Finally, after 17 hours, 247 miles and 20,000 feet of climbing he knew it was over for him. His strength and endurance were fatally impacted by the inability to consume `fuel.' (I mean, how many endlessly long 13% hills can you climb without eating?!)
It takes character and emotional resilience to be know when to stop. Even more so, it takes maturity and experience not to blame yourself for not achieving the near-impossible. And in this regard I found his wisdom and good cheer refreshing and ... motivating.
Anybody who has crewed on an ultracycling event and says that they enjoyed it gets three free psychotherapy sessions from me! Crewing is hard. It's uncomfortable. And it is extremely demanding.
My normal weight is 185. When I weighed myself after crewing it was up to 198.6 lbs. (Today, after a 55 mile 4,800 feet of climbing 4 hour training ride - very well hydrated - it was 182.6)
Why the dramatic weight gain? Water. Bowels fill up and peristalsis goes on strike. Lack of physical movement causes my body to just `absorb' to the max.
Crewing puts you in a car or van, following your racer, at an average speed of 13 mph. One of the crew is driving. Another is navigating and keeping in contact with the racer. And I was preparing the food, hydration, recording everything in 15 minute increments.
The racer doesn't stop. And neither did the crew vehicle (except to get gas, pick up ice for the cooler, some grim road food, use the facilities). And for this race (48 hour time limit) sleeping is something that may or may not happen as a crewmember.
The crew is always `alert' to the racer. If the racer tells us we're the best crew s/he's ever had a little bright light of sunshine enters our grim boring world. If the racer is vomiting, has diarrhea, is cramping ... we scour our experiences and knowledge to make it `go away.'
Me? I'd rather race than crew. Crewing is harder.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Difference between Bacchetta Ti Aero and CA2
July 31, 2012:
Saturday will see me riding from Prescott to Congress and back on the CA2. This will be the first real use of the bike through the mountain to desert and back terrain. The Ti Aero has been my steady-eddy for so long I'm wondering if there will be much sense of `difference.'
I know that there are many reading this who worship at the holy grail of the CA2 and anything Bacchetta, so I hope not to offend the true believers. It's a bike. A good one.
Aug 5, 2012:
I didn't quite get the CA2 dialed in in time for the Prescott-Congress-Prescott event yesterday. Since I swapped out the stock riser with a straight pipe riser and road stem I had some issues with securing the BFT. I contacted Bacchetta and they are sending me a certain fix. Assuming I get it (1 1/8 two bolt clamp) by the end of this week I should be able to ride the CA2 next Saturday.
So, I did the Prescott-Congress-Prescott training ride on the Ti Aero.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/206596853
Aug 11, 2012:
I did the Prescott-Congress-Prescott circuit on the CA2 today.
The bike (CA2) is about 90% of where it should be. Had a few adjustment issues with the FD and RD at the outset but they were fixed in a few minutes. Given that the wheels are 700s the center of gravity is about 1.5" higher than on the Ti. That was interesting but I adjusted to it by the time I got to Peeples Valley.
Gearing inches. A 39/30 on a 700 wheel gets me about 13% more gear inches than on a 650. All through the course I found myself `learning' that `x' grade required not a 39/30 on the 700 but a 39/32. This was a hard lesson. On rapid ascents (after a rapid descent) I found myself over gearing, i.e., pushing too high a gear than on the 650. I think this will take some time.
Actually, with these exceptions, there isn't much difference between the ti and the carbon fiber. The `ride' is no less harsh. It goes as fast as the engine can make it. They weigh about the same.
I'm going to get a set of long reach handlebars for the new bike; just like on the ti. With a longer reach there is even better steering control; though there is no `effort' difference so far as I can tell.
I'll probably put a different set of wheels on the CA2. Lighter and more `true' than the ones I've got on it now.
So ... what is the ultimate and fundamental reason for having both the Ti Aero and the CA2? So that I can still train if one of the bikes is not operable.
Here's the Garmin for todays Prescott-Congress-Prescott on the CA2:
Saturday, Aug 11th: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/209320805
Aug 12, 2012:
Further thoughts about the difference between the Ti Aero and the CA2.
First, I'm glad I have both of them. Probably the only `bling thing' I've done in my entire life.
Then, because of my experience in both the midwest flatlands and the mountainous / desertic west I'm lucky to have something against which to compare each platform.
Next week I'm to do a 200K brevet (AZ Randonneurs - Show Low, AZ) with about 5,200 feet of climbing. Relative to my home training terrain I consider that course to be relatively sedate, though not flat. For the 200K Show Low brevet I'll use the CA2.
For terrain that includes lots of climbing I'll use the Ti Aero.
Why?
The larger 700 wheels on the CA2 give a small amount (5 - 10%) advantage on relatively even, flat terrain. Another way of putting it is that I don't need that gear inch advantage when lots of climbing is involved. The 650 Ti wheels and gearing match the demand of lower gearing, higher cadence, on the climbs. (The key, however, is to have the right climbing gearing in the first place; currently on the Ti I have a 55/39 up front and an 11/34 ten speed in back).
In mid-September I'll be doing the Skull Valley Loop Challenge (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/113716919) again. I've done this circuit many, many times since last September. I'll use the Ti Aero because of the climbing.
On November 2-3 I'll be doing a 24 hour race in Coachella, CA (http://24hrworlds.com/24/index.php?N_webcat_id=360). This is a dead-flat course where the 13% greater gear inch of the CA2 (and bike modifications to enhance aerodynamics) will be an advantage.
None of these events would amount to any fair use of either the Ti or the CA2 had it not been for the fact that I've lost 47+ lbs since July of 2011. I'm slowly losing weight (182 right now) as a consequence of not having a job and a fairly disciplined training regimen (4,400 miles and more than 350,000 feet of climbing since Jan 1 2012). Power to weight ratio rules.
Saturday will see me riding from Prescott to Congress and back on the CA2. This will be the first real use of the bike through the mountain to desert and back terrain. The Ti Aero has been my steady-eddy for so long I'm wondering if there will be much sense of `difference.'
I know that there are many reading this who worship at the holy grail of the CA2 and anything Bacchetta, so I hope not to offend the true believers. It's a bike. A good one.
Aug 5, 2012:
I didn't quite get the CA2 dialed in in time for the Prescott-Congress-Prescott event yesterday. Since I swapped out the stock riser with a straight pipe riser and road stem I had some issues with securing the BFT. I contacted Bacchetta and they are sending me a certain fix. Assuming I get it (1 1/8 two bolt clamp) by the end of this week I should be able to ride the CA2 next Saturday.
So, I did the Prescott-Congress-Prescott training ride on the Ti Aero.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/206596853
Aug 11, 2012:
I did the Prescott-Congress-Prescott circuit on the CA2 today.
The bike (CA2) is about 90% of where it should be. Had a few adjustment issues with the FD and RD at the outset but they were fixed in a few minutes. Given that the wheels are 700s the center of gravity is about 1.5" higher than on the Ti. That was interesting but I adjusted to it by the time I got to Peeples Valley.
Gearing inches. A 39/30 on a 700 wheel gets me about 13% more gear inches than on a 650. All through the course I found myself `learning' that `x' grade required not a 39/30 on the 700 but a 39/32. This was a hard lesson. On rapid ascents (after a rapid descent) I found myself over gearing, i.e., pushing too high a gear than on the 650. I think this will take some time.
Actually, with these exceptions, there isn't much difference between the ti and the carbon fiber. The `ride' is no less harsh. It goes as fast as the engine can make it. They weigh about the same.
I'm going to get a set of long reach handlebars for the new bike; just like on the ti. With a longer reach there is even better steering control; though there is no `effort' difference so far as I can tell.
I'll probably put a different set of wheels on the CA2. Lighter and more `true' than the ones I've got on it now.
So ... what is the ultimate and fundamental reason for having both the Ti Aero and the CA2? So that I can still train if one of the bikes is not operable.
Here's the Garmin for todays Prescott-Congress-Prescott on the CA2:
Saturday, Aug 11th: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/209320805
Aug 12, 2012:
Further thoughts about the difference between the Ti Aero and the CA2.
First, I'm glad I have both of them. Probably the only `bling thing' I've done in my entire life.
Then, because of my experience in both the midwest flatlands and the mountainous / desertic west I'm lucky to have something against which to compare each platform.
Next week I'm to do a 200K brevet (AZ Randonneurs - Show Low, AZ) with about 5,200 feet of climbing. Relative to my home training terrain I consider that course to be relatively sedate, though not flat. For the 200K Show Low brevet I'll use the CA2.
For terrain that includes lots of climbing I'll use the Ti Aero.
Why?
The larger 700 wheels on the CA2 give a small amount (5 - 10%) advantage on relatively even, flat terrain. Another way of putting it is that I don't need that gear inch advantage when lots of climbing is involved. The 650 Ti wheels and gearing match the demand of lower gearing, higher cadence, on the climbs. (The key, however, is to have the right climbing gearing in the first place; currently on the Ti I have a 55/39 up front and an 11/34 ten speed in back).
In mid-September I'll be doing the Skull Valley Loop Challenge (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/113716919) again. I've done this circuit many, many times since last September. I'll use the Ti Aero because of the climbing.
On November 2-3 I'll be doing a 24 hour race in Coachella, CA (http://24hrworlds.com/24/index.php?N_webcat_id=360). This is a dead-flat course where the 13% greater gear inch of the CA2 (and bike modifications to enhance aerodynamics) will be an advantage.
None of these events would amount to any fair use of either the Ti or the CA2 had it not been for the fact that I've lost 47+ lbs since July of 2011. I'm slowly losing weight (182 right now) as a consequence of not having a job and a fairly disciplined training regimen (4,400 miles and more than 350,000 feet of climbing since Jan 1 2012). Power to weight ratio rules.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Got Hit by a Car Monday
Training Route in Prescott Mountains
Coming north near Mile Post 304 a faded blue '90's American car was rounding a corner and clipped my left shoulder with his/her passenger side mirror. Mirror broke right off the car and hung there. Driver didn't stop.
First 3 characters on AZ license plate: AG3 .... Driver pulled over in a pullout 100 yards ahead. Despite me being stopped and leaning on the road barrier, waving him/her to come back, s/he looked at me for a few seconds and then just drove off.
Reported it to Prescott police and AZ Highway Patrol. I'm lucky. I'm planning on the driver not being lucky!
What remains a mystery to me -- gratefully -- is that I have not the slightest soreness. Not a bruise. Not a scratch.
It seems that the passenger mirror and the height of my left shoulder were identical. The mirror hit the `meaty' part of my shoulder (not much meat left these days, but ...). Despite having two Zephyl Spy Mirrors on the bike I had no awareness of it's presence. And usually I hear vehicles behind me (engine or tires on road). Nothing.
All I experienced was a `slap' on my left shoulder, the sound of the mirror breaking off from it's mount on the car, observing the mirror flopping loose on the car and the car ... accelerating.
I stopped, instinctively. I was to the right of the fog line where there was about 3 feet of paved shoulder, i.e., not on the road. Got off the bike. Was alert that such events often register no immediate pain but may entail tissue damage and other effects. Nothing. I leaned the bike against the road barrier (steep cliff drop-off immediately on other side of barrier). Then I looked at the bike. I inspected the CF Hard Shell seat for any damage. Nothing.
So this was a one in a million oddity that worked in my interest.
I have seen this piece of sh*t ratty car going back and forth on this road dozens of times. Faded, mottled blue, mid-'90's model American car.
Today I plan to drive my truck to a vantage point on this road (part of the RAAM course, a twisting, ascending road up a mountain side) and wait and watch for this vehicle. If I see it I'll carefully follow it to it's destination and then call the AZ Highway Patrol and let them put the pieces of the puzzle together.
I've come to `know' so many regular drivers over this 17.5 mile stretch of mountain grade road. They wave, I wave, give eachother a thumbs up, they often slow down and give me wide berth. They really can't exceed 30 mph because there are so many left and right turns that no vehicle can navigate the turns without skidding or burning rubber.
And then when I find this pr**k and justice is served ... I'm going to take that mirror as a trophy:)
Coming north near Mile Post 304 a faded blue '90's American car was rounding a corner and clipped my left shoulder with his/her passenger side mirror. Mirror broke right off the car and hung there. Driver didn't stop.
First 3 characters on AZ license plate: AG3 .... Driver pulled over in a pullout 100 yards ahead. Despite me being stopped and leaning on the road barrier, waving him/her to come back, s/he looked at me for a few seconds and then just drove off.
Reported it to Prescott police and AZ Highway Patrol. I'm lucky. I'm planning on the driver not being lucky!
What remains a mystery to me -- gratefully -- is that I have not the slightest soreness. Not a bruise. Not a scratch.
It seems that the passenger mirror and the height of my left shoulder were identical. The mirror hit the `meaty' part of my shoulder (not much meat left these days, but ...). Despite having two Zephyl Spy Mirrors on the bike I had no awareness of it's presence. And usually I hear vehicles behind me (engine or tires on road). Nothing.
All I experienced was a `slap' on my left shoulder, the sound of the mirror breaking off from it's mount on the car, observing the mirror flopping loose on the car and the car ... accelerating.
I stopped, instinctively. I was to the right of the fog line where there was about 3 feet of paved shoulder, i.e., not on the road. Got off the bike. Was alert that such events often register no immediate pain but may entail tissue damage and other effects. Nothing. I leaned the bike against the road barrier (steep cliff drop-off immediately on other side of barrier). Then I looked at the bike. I inspected the CF Hard Shell seat for any damage. Nothing.
So this was a one in a million oddity that worked in my interest.
I have seen this piece of sh*t ratty car going back and forth on this road dozens of times. Faded, mottled blue, mid-'90's model American car.
Today I plan to drive my truck to a vantage point on this road (part of the RAAM course, a twisting, ascending road up a mountain side) and wait and watch for this vehicle. If I see it I'll carefully follow it to it's destination and then call the AZ Highway Patrol and let them put the pieces of the puzzle together.
I've come to `know' so many regular drivers over this 17.5 mile stretch of mountain grade road. They wave, I wave, give eachother a thumbs up, they often slow down and give me wide berth. They really can't exceed 30 mph because there are so many left and right turns that no vehicle can navigate the turns without skidding or burning rubber.
And then when I find this pr**k and justice is served ... I'm going to take that mirror as a trophy:)
Monday, June 18, 2012
My experience as a RAAM 2012 Official
Not too many years ago I was the clinical director of a psychiatric hospital. As this was a `new' psychiatric hospital, founded by a religious order, it was undergirded by the assumption of good intentions and hard work until we got it properly up and running. We had patients whose problems resulted in aggressive and violent behavior. I found some, though scant, succor thinking that my peers and the religious hierarchy wanted to get at the root of the problem.
I was wrong.
Rather, senior management and the religious hierarchy were willfully blind to the chaos that permitted the violent spirals. It was a long, painful and shameful chapter in my professional life. But I have learned a lesson that I will never forget and is now like a very fine tuned `problem detector.'
For the past five days I was a RAAM Official between Time Station 6 and Time Station 10. The dedication and good will of all the participants (racers, crew, race organizers, volunteers) is genuine and serious. I would venture to say that several hundreds of thousands of dollars have been raised by these good folks for charities and the needy.
But there were / are problems. The spirit of `the race' is so intense that it fogs our ability to see the danger right before our eyes.
The first entrants to the Race were solo men over age 60 and women (they started on Tuesday). The second entrants to the Race were solo men under age 60 (they started on Wednesday).
The solo racers were very, very well served by their crews. They were able to support their racer and maintain very safe practices. Small errors were quickly discovered and corrected. In very short order the racer and crew became focused both on the `race' and the logistics of the race. The crew surrounded and supported their racer's needs, learning to anticipate stressful and difficult times. My work as a RAAM Official brought me to a profound admiration of these heroes, both on the bike and in the support vehicles.
On Saturday the 4- and 8-person teams of racers were started. The team crews included as many as 20 persons and 4 and 5 support vehicles (SUVs, RV and motorhomes)
For the first 395 miles (to TS6 - Congress) of relatively level desert terrain allowed a slow but effective melding of complex logistics. Racer exchanges were smooth. Direct follow from vans at night took place with care and in full compliance with RAAM Rules.
Not so when the teams began the long 135 mile series of steep and twisty climbs from TS6 to TS9 (Flagstaff). The worry about keeping `race pace' saw some teams making racer exchanges every five minutes as they `burned' up 4 - 11% inclines for miles after mile.
Several crew support vehicles became clearly confused, not knowing when to make racer exchanges, where the support vehicles need to be to make the exchange of racers.
Some support vehicles were in clear violation of `no direct follow' rules. Instead, they simply either forgot this rule or were trying to circumvent it. In a few cases I saw support vehicles driving within 20 - 30 feet ahead of the racer, effectively forming a wind-free zone for the racer.
Crew vehicles were following racers at 8 - 12mph up narrow, mountain grade, twisting two lane roads with little, if any shoulder. This caused commercial and private vehicles to `pile up' behind crew vehicles. Private drivers were angry and frustrated because they knew that passing crew vehicles on numerous blind corners risked dangerous headon crashes. Yet, amidst this danger private vehicles crossed the double yellow lines on blind corners risking head on collisions and the possibility of forcing RAAM crew vehicles and RAAM racers off steep cliff drop-offs.
As the RAAM race official for these dangerous roads (which, by the way, are strewn with `shrines' along side the roads for motorcyclists who have crashed, skidded and.or gone flying off the steep ravine drop-offs.)
Many RAAM crew were not competent in English and refused to stop and engaged in argumentation with the RAAM Race Official.
There were just too many racers and crew vehicles breaking the rules (leapfrog, don't shadow your racer, blocking crosswinds for their racer) for me to be effective.
Further there were very few RAAM Officials along this stretch of road (TS6 - TS10). I found myself rolling up and back the route to demonstrate to the crew that I was `watching' them. In some instances I believe the crew purposely played the `foreign-language game' and nodded while they continued to break the rules.
I was wrong.
The closer we are to a problem the more likely we are to lose perspective.
For the past five days I was a RAAM Official between Time Station 6 and Time Station 10. The dedication and good will of all the participants (racers, crew, race organizers, volunteers) is genuine and serious. I would venture to say that several hundreds of thousands of dollars have been raised by these good folks for charities and the needy.
But there were / are problems. The spirit of `the race' is so intense that it fogs our ability to see the danger right before our eyes.
The first entrants to the Race were solo men over age 60 and women (they started on Tuesday). The second entrants to the Race were solo men under age 60 (they started on Wednesday).
The solo racers were very, very well served by their crews. They were able to support their racer and maintain very safe practices. Small errors were quickly discovered and corrected. In very short order the racer and crew became focused both on the `race' and the logistics of the race. The crew surrounded and supported their racer's needs, learning to anticipate stressful and difficult times. My work as a RAAM Official brought me to a profound admiration of these heroes, both on the bike and in the support vehicles.
-------------
Not so when the teams began the long 135 mile series of steep and twisty climbs from TS6 to TS9 (Flagstaff). The worry about keeping `race pace' saw some teams making racer exchanges every five minutes as they `burned' up 4 - 11% inclines for miles after mile.
Several crew support vehicles became clearly confused, not knowing when to make racer exchanges, where the support vehicles need to be to make the exchange of racers.
Some support vehicles were in clear violation of `no direct follow' rules. Instead, they simply either forgot this rule or were trying to circumvent it. In a few cases I saw support vehicles driving within 20 - 30 feet ahead of the racer, effectively forming a wind-free zone for the racer.
Crew vehicles were following racers at 8 - 12mph up narrow, mountain grade, twisting two lane roads with little, if any shoulder. This caused commercial and private vehicles to `pile up' behind crew vehicles. Private drivers were angry and frustrated because they knew that passing crew vehicles on numerous blind corners risked dangerous headon crashes. Yet, amidst this danger private vehicles crossed the double yellow lines on blind corners risking head on collisions and the possibility of forcing RAAM crew vehicles and RAAM racers off steep cliff drop-offs.
As the RAAM race official for these dangerous roads (which, by the way, are strewn with `shrines' along side the roads for motorcyclists who have crashed, skidded and.or gone flying off the steep ravine drop-offs.)
Many RAAM crew were not competent in English and refused to stop and engaged in argumentation with the RAAM Race Official.
There were just too many racers and crew vehicles breaking the rules (leapfrog, don't shadow your racer, blocking crosswinds for their racer) for me to be effective.
Further there were very few RAAM Officials along this stretch of road (TS6 - TS10). I found myself rolling up and back the route to demonstrate to the crew that I was `watching' them. In some instances I believe the crew purposely played the `foreign-language game' and nodded while they continued to break the rules.
- I think that the RAAM rules are adequate to maintaining safety.
- I think that there should have been more race officials in conspicuously marked vehicles.
- I think that the race official should have the independent authority to issue `official warnings' and `official penalties' in the mountainous terrain.
- I think that the race official would be aided by having `Yellow' and `Red' tickets that they could issue to crew vehicles as an immediate and tangible signal of danger.
Candidly, I think that there were many close (potentially fatal) calls on this route. They were lucky.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
I think brevets / randonneuring is `out' for a while
Several years ago I did Lon Haldeman and Susan Notarangelo's Mountain Week PAC Tour. It was a great experience and was really well done by the PAC Tour folks. What I remember most, though, was the fact that Lon told us all that riding on the shoulder of the road was not an option. It was a requirement. He then, very gently, referred to the cyclists he has known that were killed by cars and trucks. On most days Lon would ride the route with us. He would always ride the shoulder. Though he didn't say it this way I understood him to be stating that `what's the loss of time and effort in comparison to being killed by a truck from behind?!'
Yesterday I joined a really great group of randonneurs in a 300K brevet from Flagstaff, AZ, to and from the Grand Canyon. Most of the route was challenging and remarkable. However, there is a 10 mile section of road that is lethal. I decided to `hitch' a ride from a passing truck to avoid getting killed by an 18-wheeler.
Randonneur brevets and permanents are a great format for cycling and fellowship. But the story below introduces an element of lethality that ... well, I'm just not going to allow to happen to me.
Unless I can `fix' the problem described below I'll hesitate doing more brevets and focust on challenging training routes that I design, well-regarded `organized events,' and competitive ultra-endurance events that may involve a crew.
Below is a note that I forwarded to the AZ Rusa ride organizer regarding the 300K brevet yesterday.
--------------------
When I got to the Motel 6 last night around 8:30pm I told Ryan that a) I was not MIA, still out on the course, b) that he wouldn't be signing the RUSA card because I completed all but 7 miles of the course, approximately 183 miles with 9,000 ft of climbing..
The course to and from the Grand Canyon is great and well worth it.
However, coming south on 89 when the rider gets to Antelope Hills the road becomes a 4 lane divided highway (at the start of the Kaibab National Forest) I had expected that the road shoulder would also be wider, too. Not the case.
Instead, right of the white line there are deep, `industrial strength' 6"x6" sharply ribbed gouges constituting the `rumble strip.' To the right of the rumble strip there was only 2 feet of road before a steep graded drop off to the gravelly ground.
This section is difficult for any recumbent bike. Add to it the 3 - 5% incline and a gusting 20 mph wind from the west and it is more than difficult; it is potentially lethal.
The upright bike has far more balance capability than the bent. The upright rider can get out of the saddle and rock the bike back and forth with minimum of difficulty in order to ride a straight line.
The bent rider doesn't have that option. By design the recumbent bike and the rider are one unit. Under difficult conditions the bent rider has to be far more careful of road conditions, weather conditions and crosswinds.
After riding about 3 miles on AZ Route 89, after it turned into divided lanes, I concluded that it was too dangerous for me to continue. I hailed a truck and he gave me a lift about 7 miles to a (Chevron?) gas station shortly past where the shoulder opened up again.
On 3 occasions while riding on that narrow, rumble strip shoulder the wind blew me into the rumble strip, further destabilizing me such that I entered the traffic lane. Fortunately there was no vehicle when that happened or I would have simply been road kill. Cars, RVs, and 18 wheelers were wizzing past at 75 - 80 mph.
My decision was the right one. And if I were to have done anything different it would have been to do it sooner, as soon as I recognized that the road was unrideable.
When the truck driver dropped me off I completed the remainder of the route on my own power, eventually trailing Russ Cummings and a few other riders into Motel 6.
Again, this was a very challenging and rewarding brevet. But I'm going to have to give this issue much thought for safety reasons.
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