Not so Bad news and some Very Good news

Well, let's start with the ...

Not so Bad news. 

Sebring is out for me this February.   The logistics and cost just don't justify it.  5,000 mile round trip driving (I'd be taking two bikes and lots of gear so onliest way I'd do that is with my trusty Ford Ranger).  Gas, lodging, food, etc., would put it easily into the $3K range.  I can (and will) put that money to much better use in my neck of the woods.

Very Good news:

I'll be getting two `Time' and `Distance' courses measured out here to be considered for official sanctioning for the UMCA.

Time courses can be used for 12 hour and 24 hour events;
Distance courses can be used for 100 mile, 200 mile events. 

The Prescott Cycling Club will be heading up the course measurements and submitting them for sanction and approval.  We're expecting to complete the measurement process within the month and submit the data and materials to UMCA. 

Each course

• Has almost no traffic;
• Few and no intersections;
• Is flat;
• Almost straight as an arrow;
• Has an excellent shoulder (wide, no rumble strip, minimum road debris).

Course # 1:  

• 50 miles: Aguila to Brenda, AZ, on Highway 60.

This course is almost entirely on the RAAM / RAW route.  In the AZ desert, with elevation from to 2160 feet to 1350 feet above sea level.  The temps are what you would expect: 100 - 110 F range 8 months out of the year.  Tolerable the other 4 months.  No snow.  Ever.

Only two or three intersections going west and one intersection coming back east.  All can be navigated well by a crew that drives ahead to make the transit safe and fast.  A few towns (3?) from start to finish on the 50 miles.  Aguila is about 60 miles from Phoenix. 

Course # 2:

• 25 miles: Paulden to Ash Fork, AZ, on Highway 89.

This course is not on the RAAM / RAW route and climbs from 4400 feet to 5100 feet through National Forest on good and well maintained roads.  At these elevations some snow can sometimes be a factor but it is also a more temperate climate all year long.  The thing about the `National Forest,' though, is that the terrain is mostly scrub desert.  No intersections.  Again, this could be both a `time' or `distance' course.  Ash Fork is about 40 miles straight west on Interstate 40 from Flagstaff, AZ.  

The road cycling community in the Prescott area is active 12 months of the year.  And more and more serious cyclists are seeing the terrain and climate as being ideal for training. 

Also, Prescott is considered one of the premier mountain bike locations in the country.  What with the mountains, several National Forests and well maintained roads and trails it is nothing less than a hidden jewel. 

--------------

If Muhammad can't go to the mountain then the mountain will have to come to Muhammad.  

When I consider the time and money I would sacrifice to drive from my house to Sebring ... I'd rather build a Sebring out here. 

You'll be hearing more soon.  Stay tuned. 

The `b'ness' end of things

A few days ago I was out for along ride in the lower elevations.  Rolling desert rocky terrain below the snow line, waaay out into the unpopulated AZ ranch country.  Fewer than 3 vehicles on the road per hour. 

Rolling along after mile 25 on an out and back I needed to find a place to do my `b'ness.' 

I spot a break in the Juniper and Cottonwood trees and brush to the side of the road and pull over.  As I'm crouching my way through the brush it opens up into a completely empty green and brown grazing pasture.  The pasture is only about 50x50 meters and abuts a steeply rising rocky hill for about 800 feet. A quiet `spot' of beauty in nature.

There is a wide gate to this fenced in area.  The gate has a heavy lasso-type rope holding it closed against a strong post with firm barbed wire in either direction.  I look around carefully to assure that no one is there and that there are no horses or livestock that will charge at me. 

I open the gate and move off to the left about 10 yards behind a copse of big Manzanitas.  I proceed to do my `b'ness.' 

As I'm gazing at the immense beauty and noticing the utter quiet and silence my attention falls to the copious evidence of horses having done THEIR b'ness here, too. 

When I'm finished and get myself all ready to return to the bike ... it hits me: 

I turn to see if MY b'ness is bigger than the HORSES b'ness! 

Once again I am confirmed in my ability to hold my own against mother nature's best :)

Confidently and filled with utterly pointless hubris I let myself out of the gated pasture and resume my biking. 

I'm still feeling `proud' of the `b'ness' end of things.

Irrational and myopic ... but so, so human. 

(I wonder if there will be a horse that returns to the grazing pasture and ... does the same thing).

Real World Training

If you could be exceptional at either `intelligence' or `persistence' (not both), which would you prefer?

Sounds like a question I'd get from St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.  I'd probably get sent to hell `Express' for trying to negotiate a little of both. 

I'm about 70 % persistence, 20 % slack-jaw stump-stupid, and maybe 10% intelligence. 

When my clients saw all the degrees on my wall I'd try to lower the shock factor by telling them: "I'm educated waaay beyond my intelligence."  And, frankly, I think its true. 

I just kept going to school.  Didn't - WOULDN'T - stop.  I went to middling colleges and universities and they were happy to take my tuition as long as I didn't present as a potential embarrassment as an alumnus. 

Back to Training. 

After several depressing days of indoor training and a few shocking days of absolutely lethal outdoor training in the freezing, windy, icy, twisting mountain roads I figure out a real world training prospect for the cold months.  Drive down to a lower elevation and train. 

The snow line is about 5,000 feet.  I trained on rolling and challenging upgrades of 6% for 6 miles at 4,000 feet today.  It was windy, cold and wet.  But manageable due to the absence of crazy twisting descents and icy roads.  It was also in the mid-40's.

Dressing for the wind and wet requires `shell' clothes and some thin wool jerseys.  Made all the difference.

Training at lower elevation 

More tomorrow. 

Vocabulary lesson

I didn't expect to get a vocabulary lesson in my training ride today.  But I did. 

Mid-day it was relatively warm (50's) and brilliantly sunny day up here in AZ mountain country.   I got out for a training ride at 1:30PM.  At it's height the sun is low on the horizon, just 10 days from the solstice.  It gets dark fast.

I rode south, up a smooth and twisty road (White Spar/89) into the Bradshaw mountains in the Prescott National Forest.   The road hangs off the eastern side of the mountain. 

Melt Ice: At 6,100 feet the sun is intense on the snow.  The snow is piled in berms on the east side of the road and it covers the forest and sheer walls on the west side of the road.   When the sun beats down on the snow it melts and water washes across and down mountain roads.  When it hits the road it is a barely visible shade of grey as it freezes again

Shadow Ice: When the road is already wet from melting snow but the setting sun, low on the southern horizon, casts patches of spikey shadows on the wet road.  The shadow water freezes thin and slippery while the sun exposed road is dry and firm.  It makes for a corduroy pattern of icy road and dry road.

Sand Slip: In Illinois they spread salt on the icy road.  Out here they use sand and pumice.  Sometimes the sand/pumice mixture has the same color as the road.  It requires eagle eye vigilance on climbs, descents and turns so that you don't slip out and go down.

Sand Mine: That's when all three of the above conditions apply.  The road looks just a little sandy but it is actually ice thinly covered by sand/pumice. 

Update: 12/12/11:

Cloudy and raining today and nobody out this way thinks its o.k. to ride in this weather. 

So ... I rode.

Us hardy mid-westerners don't really know the difference between sunny and warm, and wet and cold. 

I added a few words to my vocabulary today: 

• Rockslide;
• Sleet/rain/snow (all one word);
• Fog;
  
• Mountain wind;
• Windchill;
• Hypothermia.

When I got home I realized that, though this is Arizona, it is winter and I'm riding in mountains.  I immediately got into a tub full of scalding hot water for half an hour.

• Time to swap the sandals for shoes and toe warmers.  
• Balaclava.  
• Rain gear.  
• Big honkin' flashing lights and irridescent ribbons all over me and the bike
• long pants
• shells over my gloves
• helmet cover.  

 So, what is this language with so many new words: Mountainese?!

One learns `road handling skills' in such conditions.

Or not.

Too much

Over the last several days I've put in a fair amount of miles and lots of climbing.  At least half of that is in the Prescott National Forest.  The other half is what geologists call the `transition zone' between the high Grand Canyon plateau and the low Phoenix desert.  Lots of sky, mountains, rolling hills.  Vast panoramas of drop-dead gorgeous terrain. 

Today's training comprised 70 miles and god-knows how many thousands of feet of climbing.  The contrast between the beauty of the natural environment was held in stark relief against the many never-before-seen by me roadside shrines to motor fatalities; the dead skunk, dog, cat, critters, and their bloody remains smeared across the road; the monstrous RVs pulling trailers of off-road 4-wheel toys; and, finally, another tragic automobile accident with almost certain fatalities.  The accident appeared to involve a car that went off the 2 lane road and down a steep embankment, rolling over and over before coming to a stop.  Multiple State Patrol vehicles, fire engines, ambulances and a helicopter.  Traffic backed up in both directions for a mile.

The contrast makes my head hurt.

Pictures of the terrain on which I train

The first is a link to my Picasa picture albums showing, first, the short and steep roads I use for `Hill Repeats' and, then, pics of the 34 mile, 4,600 feet of climbing out and back, up and over, course from Prescott to Wilhoit.  Prescott to Wilhoit and back

The second is the latest Garmin data and graphic of the Prescott to Wilhoit and back course.  Garmin - Prescott to Wilhoit and back

Season and transitions in training

Second week of November in the Arizona high country.  Living close by a ranging national forest and what geologists call a `transitional zone.'  Prescott is a smallish town on the edge a growing metropolitan area both east and north of us. 

Nights are cold and dark.  Days are typically sunny and warm.  If and when it snows it tends to melt away within a day or three. 

Gone are the days when starting a training ride at 7:30am promised 70 degree temps, pushing into the 90's by midday. 

Hill training several times a week for two or three hours.  Following loops into the national forest and back.  In the gym cross-training for several hours a couple of times a week.  One or two long rides into, through and out the other side of the forest every week. 

Outdoor training includes both front and rear wheel recumbents, and the upright Airborne Zeppelin ti bike. Indoor training includes Concept 2 indoor rower, the elliptical and a recumbent bike on the LeMond Revolution indoor trainer.  Calisthenics, situps, pushups and pullups. 

Consolidation, strength and balance are the training goals for the cold months. 

Heading into winter and exciting riding

October 19th and I'm feeling like I'm just getting started on my cycling season.  Last year at this time I was putting on the weight, dealing with rain, wind, cold, traffic, urban density and congestion.  This year I'm working my training plan and tracking significant week to week improvements. 

I've never had the opportunity to focus on cycling as much as now. 

Today I got in a 20 mile 1,800 feet of climbing training ride `after' I did the finances, met with the plumber and made some phone calls.  And I got back in time for a fried chicken lunch with our neighbors in our Common House.  Our cohousing neighborhood and community ... 

Took a nap, reviewed the training plan and confirmed that I'll be attending some great cycling events here in the SW this winter. 

• I'm stoked about the 200 K brevet (Heart of Arizona) with the Bullshifters Cycling Club this November 5th;.
• I'm focused on training for strong and fast hill climbing in a rational and thoughtful way;
• I'm targeting the Sebring Bike races in Florida next February 18th and 19th, the 24 hour non-drafting RAAM Qualifier event.

These are just a few of the great things I can train for and accomplish with `performance' in mind (not just `survival.')

I'm fortunate and lucky.

Ownership and attribution

I just sent a comment to the spam folder.  The author of the comment did not identify him/herself and made claims without attribution of sources.  Finally, this person made personal insults (not to me).

One of the reasons I blog and welcome comments is to further dialogue and questions.  Unsubstantiated claims and uncivil comments that do nothing to support dialogue will be deleted. 

Freedom of the press is guaranteed only to those with one.  Those having an axe to grind or who are working out issues for which they should seek treatment can start up their own blog or pedal their tripe to listserv's that allow it. 

If you don't like what is said here don't read it. 

Another Roadside Shrine

Coming north on White Spar Road (89A) from Wilhoit to Prescott, AZ.  As one leaves Wilhoit there are signs warning drivers of dangerous mountain curves and grades ahead for the next 14 miles.

Here is a Garmin recording of one of my training rides on White Spar between Wilhoit and Prescott.  Wilhoit - Prescott: Road Shrine Row  You can zoom in to see for yourself the twists, inclines and descents.  For most of the route the road hangs off the side of the mountain with a wall on one side and a steep drop off on the other side.

Seven weeks ago I had just turned around at Wilhoit to return to Prescott on a training ride.  Less than a mile up the road I saw several people, motorcycles and a few cars at the lip of the cliff on a 90 degree ascending (4-5%) turn.  A motorcyclist had miscalculated his speed and the angle of the turn and rode right off the cliff, falling about 20 yards into a steep ravine filled with brush and cactus.  Foolishly his mates pulled him out of the ravine.  As I stopped to offer some aid it was apparent that this fellow was nonresponsive and quite likely dead.

A few weeks later I noted a `road shrine' cross and fake flowers planted in a pile of rocks.

Today I was barely out of Prescott and into the mountain grades to Wilhoit when I was passed by 3 or 4 emergency vehicles and an overhead helicopter.  About two miles up traffic was stopped.  I rode past the stopped traffic to see the helicopter slowly ascending and on the way to some hospital.  The police turned me back stating that they would be taking pictures and surveying the site for some time to come.

About an hour later I concluded the road should be clear and resumed my training ride to Wilhoit and back.  As I passed the scene of the accident I saw the destroyed motorcycle and metal and plastic on both sides of the road.  There were no tire skid marks.  But there were several fresh white gouges in the road.  And I am assuming that the motorcyclist was going downhill too fast for the curve, oversteered, lost control of the bike and s/he and the motorcycle went end over end until they came to the road barrier or mountain wall.  It was a bloody mess, with two squad cars parked nearby.

Returning later to Prescott past this accident scene I saw a tow truck attempting to collect the many pieces of motorcycle.

I myself have gone down twice on this same road at speeds greater than 35 mph.  Lots of road rash.  Some stitches.  About $800 of total damages to the bike.

Those of us surviving our bad judgment have a deep respect for the dangers of the road.

I'll be looking for another road shrine at that location soon.  How deeply sad.

HA!! Two Speeds

Speed # One:  All out race!
Speed # Two:  Dead stop!

Conclusion?  Delusional thinking and denial of the reality of dealing with time and anxiety.

Ha!!!

I just spent the last hour reviewing journal articles on `denial of aging.'  I've even got a book on that subject waiting for me at the Prescott Library.

With the wife gone for a week and being relatively immobile while the knee heals up I've spent waaaaay too much time `thinking.'   Such a waste!  Not my best `muscle,' i.e., from the neck up. 

I preached two mantras in my clinical practice as a psychologist: "Action Defines Us" and "Behavior Precedes Awareness."  One of my patients even went out and got me a ball cap with those phrases emblazoned on it as a retirement memento.

Take my own advice: Think less.  Do more. 

A good deal of the reason I am so active with cycling is so that I can wear myself out.  (DSM-IV-TR diagnosis: Cyclothymia.  Just a tad short of all out mania).  Just a different way of dealing with the same anxiety that creates alcoholics, zealots, workaholics and others among us burning up excess psychic kerosene. 

The challenge of `retirement' is in being able to integrate life's accumulated wisdom and the strengths it brings, and a relative certainty about the trajectory of the future having an ultimate downward slope (unless of course I'm on a 4% downhill descent into Wilhoit on a 75 degree angle left turn doing 36.4 mph on a posted 25 mph speed limit ... then the slope is a right angle, straight down.  I got lucky and am here to tell about it.). 

I really did feel pissed that I came in behind 51 other people in the recent Skull Valley Loop Challenge.  Angry, in fact.  I gave myself no `slack' for probably being among the 3 oldest people racing.  Some of it is good fuel for motivation.  A lot of it is denial of `inherent' athletic/genetic limits and limits imposed on me as a consequence of age. 

Transition.  Age and the time to think about it carefully and with acceptance and courage. A denial of it ... thinking that "I'm different and I'll prove it" can prove futile.  And `resistance is futile.' 

Of course, we all know that the only people without stress in their life ... are dead!

Sermon over.

Chondromalacia and Plantaris Muscle / Tendon

Left knee.  Had nothing to do with cycling.

Definition of chondromalacia patella: (By Mayo Clinic staff)
 
The cartilage under your kneecap (patella) is a natural shock absorber. Overuse, injury or other factors may lead to a condition known as chondromalacia patella — a general term indicating damage to the cartilage under your kneecap. A more accurate term for chondromalacia patella is patellofemoral pain syndrome. 

The plantaris muscle / tendon definition is so tortuously medical-wordy that I won't even try it here.  Essentially, it is a tendon behind the knee that is missing in 7-10% of the population and has little purpose or consequence.  However, when, for whatever reason, it is inflamed or damaged it causes pain and swelling.

I was schlepping 50 lb bags of dirt and rocks for some landscaping of our house and I pivoted on my left leg, generating these two conditions.

In 1989 I had arthroscopic removal of torn meniscus / cartilage in my left knee.  I'd run about 8 marathons at that point and ... that's what happens to some of us.  The cartilage gets damaged.  Since then I've been totally pain free (ran another marathon 9 days after the surgery).  But when I flex that left knee I'd always hear a few clicks and grinds.

Today I rode the bike 34 miles and climbed about 4,000 feet with nothing more than a slight sense of tightness.

When walking it is painful to straighten the left leg because of the plantaris muscle.  And the patella problem is resolving with NSAIDS, careful stretching, alternate heat and cold compresses, a knee band that sort of stabilizes the patella.  I used one on the Race Across the West and the slight initial pain literally vanished in less than 12 hours, never to return.   

Training will probably be on flat stretches for a while, avoiding too much power strokes on inclines.  Though, I still climbed faster than all my buddies today, and without pain.

Prudence, however, suggests reduction of climbing intensity.  So, for the next few / half dozen training sessions I'll be a flatlander again.  Probably a wise change of pace.  

Attention `Excess' Disorder

In graduate school we had to learn how to diagnosis mental disorders.  There is a `big book of mental disorders' that all credentialed folks have to use.  The unanimous experience of I and my classmates was that each one of us had at least half a dozen diagnosable serious psychiatric disorders!

Decades later... no different.  We were right. 

These past two months of cycling in `valhalla' (Prescott, AZ) with more time to ride and train than I've ever allowed myself I've violated my notional dictum: `Be a fanatic about living a balanced life!!'  In otherwords, I'd frequently overtrain by doing too much, too hard, too fast.  Fortunately, I've been able to `listen to my body' and recognize it in a day or two and back off. 

This last `go-round' with overtraining left me wiped out, empty and flat all day after my early morning training ride.  I liked the training ride.  I `hated' feeling flat the rest of the day.  And, of course, my `psychiatric disorder' raised it's ugly head and I started blaming myself for stepping into this familiar hole again.  Then I started making lists of things I have neglected.  Finally, I took two naps instead of just my usual one -- this so that I can pile on the self-loathing for being such a slug and a sloth. 

This morning I looked at my Training Plan and realized that I had abandoned any forward looking Plan two weeks ago.  Instead I was just using it as a Riding Log. 

So now I'm going to do what I am supposed to have been doing all along:

• Identify cycling events that I want to train towards;
• Anchor my training to these events;
• Set short and longer term goals;
• Follow the `Periodization Training' method that has served me so well;
• Live a frigging `balanced life!'

Skull Valley Loop Challenge - Prescott, Arizona

Skull Valley Loop Challenge Garmin Data

The heart rate data are completely wrong. There were power lines that screwed with the HR. And halfway through the race the `grade' function on the Garmin stopped working. 

The last time I did this route was June 17, 2010 -- (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/37612893). Climbing gain was 4,079 feet. Still, this beats previous Personal Best by 49 minutes. I was the only recumbent in the event and finished 52st among `around' 150. 

I liked it.  It was fun.  I used some muscles that connected to my coccyx that I didn't even know were there.  Coccyx muscles?!!

Big Bad Bagdad!!

Training in the Arizona deserts and mountains is humbling.  In the midwest there was a farm or a town within spitting distance of most anyplace I was training.  If my unconscious carcass was off to the side of the road I'd probably be noticed within an hour or two by some passerby.

Here, though, the natural threats are dramatically more profound, if not actually lethal.

First, there are the descents and twisty turns.  I was baptized in this danger a few weeks ago by foolishly speeding down a twisty mountain grade at 35.1 mph (posted vehicle speed limit: 20 mph) when I let the bike get out of my control (spooked myself by a crease in the road) and destabilized myself, going down HARD, damaging some bike components and getting lots of bloody and painful road rash.  I'm lucky I didn't kill myself.

The other danger has to do with the dramatic climatic and terrain conditions.  A few weeks ago I left Prescott in the AM when it was 66 degrees.  I rode 44 miles south and descended about 3,000 feet, arriving in Congress, where the temperature was 104.

The solar radiation of the sun at this altitude is dangerously intense, certainly burning the skin and risking pain, injury if not cancer (melanoma).

What humidity?!  Sitting on my front porch, in the shade, for an hour results in passive dehydration.  Training uphill, into the sun, with no wind for fifteen minutes means that I have to drink a quart of liquid with electrolytes.  Training on a relatively flat surface of slight descent can `trick' me into forgetting to hydrate.  Both conditions can cause loss of consciousness or severe disorientation, making cycling even more dangerous. 

Twenty miles between dirt roads leading to ranches three or four miles off the paved roads constitutes a relatively densely populated area :)  So-called `towns' amount to one store and a few dozen mobile homes off on the side of a hill.  Today I had to plan for a source of water (post office has an faucet out behind, near the dumpster) in the likely event that the one store in town was closed.

Things `eat' you out here.  Not little `bites,' like with a bug or mosquito. 

No.  They friggin' EAT you.  Javelinas, mountain lions, coyotes, critters of all sorts that might consider my conscious / unconscious carcass found bounty.  And don't sit down on the side of the road. Snakes.  Spiders. Scorpions. 

Tires.  The road surfaces just eat up road tires.  I've already had one tire literally split apart at the middle of the tread due to the heat of the road and the roughness of the pavement. 

These were just some of the things in the back of my mind over the past week as my training distances and challenges increase.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bagdad is a copper mining town 68 miles from my front door.  A two lane state road `terminates' in Bagdad.  There are three little one-horse towns between my house and Bagdad.  The road to Bagdad is paved and passable but it follows some very significant changes in geology, climate and terrain.  From table top mesas to `bottom of the earth' canyons.  Not a 10th of a mile of straight road to nor from Bagdad.  Descents and ascents and descents again, ranging 3,000 feet at a lick and 30 to 45 degrees in temperature difference.

I'll be in a brevet to and from Bagdad in a short time.  

So, this morning I was working on the Silvio and adding long-distance `worst case' gear and equipment so that I could `probably' survive a trip to Bagdad. 

Big, good week.

Here it is Friday, September 2nd, and I know that I've got at least four good months of training ahead of me.  No more of this `dash' to squeeze in as many events as possible before the ice and snow get here. 

This week is Week # 6 of the evolving Training Plan.  I've still got two days before I close out this week and already I've ridden more miles, hours and climbed more feet than any of the previous weeks.  And I'm not tired! 

Because of the distances and climbing I've done so far this week I've trained every other day.  Again, trying to be careful about overtraining. 

Monday I had planned to do hills and mountains but wound up going north toward Ash Fork to get in some flat miles.  Mistake.  Intense traffic. All kinds of crap on the road.  Got a flat tire.  Four and  half hours, 3,451 feet of climbing, 60 miles.  Nice to get in the miles but I felt like I was riding on a crazy highway ... which I was.

Wednesday I rode from Prescott to Congress and back.  Ten hours, 9,504 feet of climbing and 9 hours of riding, with one hour off the bike for food and hydration.

Today, Friday: Good workout. 5,170 feet of climbing over 45 miles. I feel like I'm cheating when flying on the descents but later, on the climbs, I'm paying cold hard cash. Stayed in 39 front ring and 23 rear ring on all climbing (except the two 11% and 14% `pops' at the very end of the training ride). Cadence was typically in the 40's. Climbing HR usually in the teens(except for those last two `pops'). Training goal was to develop capacity for long (4.5 hours) solid grinds, i.e., endurance. Good week of training and rest. 

Here's a link to the rides.  Page back to see the rest.  3 Training Rides this week 

Four Week Block Data

Elevation Correction is a Garmin setting that I had inadvertently disabled when I was training in the flatlands.  I recently discovered this function and applied it to the training over the past four weeks and came up with a significantly different number.  I'm correcting the climbing figures below.  ("Garmin Connect selectively applies corrections to depict a more realistic representation of your elevation experience.")

WEEK 1:
Hrs trained:   7.33 hours
Miles:  79.26
Feet of climbing: 8,510

WEEK 2:
Hrs trained:   11.6 hours
Miles:  133.3
Feet of climbing: 13,525

WEEK 3:
Hrs trained:   16 hours
Miles:  162.5
Feet of climbing: 17,379

WEEK 4:
Hrs trained:   13 hours
Miles:  158
Feet of climbing: 14,760

Very unlike previous training in the midwest my 4-week block miles are down (533) and my climbing is up (54,174).  That averages to 101.6 feet of climbing per mile, or an `average' 1.92% incline.  Grade Percent Incline And Downgrade Calculator

Ugly butt ....

I'm sorry, but I've been thinking of that post `title' almost all morning as I climbed from Skull Valley to the top of Iron Springs road.  It was `ugly' but ... I did it. 

Every time I do that section I say to myself ... "but it shouldn't be so difficult.  I've done it before and I MUST be in better shape by now."  NOT!

Skull Valley Loop Clockwise

Temptation .....

Got a late start (12:15pm) at the hottest time of the day (92 - 93). Up, over and back over the mountain again. Rushed back home to finish a project before I had to attend a meeting, eat a late dinner and ... crash! 

Training is coming along really well.  But I constantly have to reel myself in from doing too much and risk overtraining. A real temptation when you find yourself making significant improvements ... makes me want to push it even harder. BIG mistake ... that, so far, I've avoided making.

Up, over and back over the mountain ....

Skull Valley Loop Challenge - Prescott, AZ - September 11

Skull Valley Loop Challenge

The Skull Valley Challenge is a 55 mile loop with over 4500 feet of climbing.  More than half of the loop takes place on some of the most difficult climbs on the RAAM / RAW route (Kirkland Junction - Skull Valley - Prescott).

This is my Garmin data for the Skull Valley Loop in June of 2010:  Skull Valley Loop - June 2010

Many a RAAM / RAW racer report that it was the most unforgiving section of the race. 

I'll see you there!

On track. On the edge.

These past 3 weeks of summary data:

WEEK 1:
Hrs trained:   7.33 hours
Miles:  79.26
Feet of climbing: 6,954

WEEK 2:
Hrs trained:   11.6 hours
Miles:  133.3
Feet of climbing: 10,826

WEEK 3:
Hrs trained:   16 hours
Miles:  162.5
Feet of climbing: 14,028

At the end of the first week I felt very fatigued and sort of shocked at how difficult it was to train.  I expected the fatigue and was alert to not overtrain.

At the end of the second week I felt fatigued, too.  Lots of naps.  But it was dawning on me that my gearing was not right.  Too many high gears, too few low gears.

Now, at the end of the third week I am pretty much on top of the fatigue and realize that this next week needs to be a week of relative rest.  Fewer hours of training.

Yesterday I switched out some gears (from 11-25 to11-34 cassette) on the rear wheel of one of my bikes and rode a triple crank (60-39-30).  My training ride today was significantly improved because of it.  Lots of climbing, mostly in the 4% - 7% range with some 11% - 14% climbs. 

Previously on the longer 7% climbs my speed would be paced in the 5 mph to 6.5mph range.  Now, with the improved gearing I'm steady in the 7 - 7.5 + mph range for long periods.  Tangible proof of improved fitness and better gearing. 

Pacing was good.  Within my capacity.  Fatigue was not as overwhelming as it was the previous two weeks. 

Two Speeds: Race and Stop

The plan was to ride the 34 miles and 3,700 feet of climbing to and from Wilhoit. But I sensed even before I started that I was on the edge of the dreaded `over-training' factor. So, ten miles into the ride I turned around and came home. Two minutes after I got in the door an enormous monsoon storm roared and exploded overhead for about 45 minutes. Instantly the temp dropped 20 degrees. The experience of these past four weeks has been intensely physical, tangible, sensual. Among the many changes I expected on retirement the one that is most poignant is that from semi-sedentary daily life to full-on physical intensity interrupted by complete and total sleep. The metaphor I have used to describe my life has been that I have two speeds: race and stop. Strange to enter the domain of the elderly and find that it is no longer a metaphor. It is reality. 

20 miles = up and down

Classic: Skull Valley Loop

It wasn't pretty ... but it WAS:  4,519 feet of climbing in 56.29 miles.

Skull Valley Loop - 08-10-2011

I was fit for about 40 of those miles.  The rest were done with a pact with Satanl that if I finished I'd name all my future children after him.  HA! Future children?!!

(Re)Balance

Almost a year ago I entitled a post `Balance.'  Had to do with balancing job, family, training, private time, time to do nothing.  I didn't and still don't know anybody who can do it all well.

Now that I'm retired I have a new set of factors that don't include `job' and a few other things.  The transition, for a type A kind of guy, needs to be considered well in advance or you'll experience the `Wiley Coyote Syndrome,' i.e., the absence of demanding schedules and professional adulation will make you feel like you ran off a cliff and the bottom dropped out from under you.

Action Defines Us.   And it requires structure, initiative and determination to re-manufacture relevant meaning in one's life. 

I'm experiencing two important discoveries.  First, spending more time training on the bike takes a toll on my post-training energy.  At this point in my training the naps become more frequent and my sleep is deeper and more satisfying.  Second, I'm tempted to put non-training things off until later.  Part of that has to do with the post-training fatigue.  A fair amount, though, has to do with a sense of anxiety about `change.'  I don't entirely understand, yet, what that anxiety is about but it's getting clearer and clearer --- that's what maturity helps with: one works on a thoughtful `response' instead of just `reacting.'

More later about this topic but it is as relevant to my training as everything I've done in the past.  Training has to be what you WANT to do, not something that is an addictive distraction from floating anxiety.

Can't learn if you don't try ...

Everything carries some risk.

Those of us who think they avoid risk are, in fact, risking the possibility of a good outcome to an anxiety producing stimulus.  Those of us who withdraw from recognizing this, those of us who make our world smaller and smaller by trying to eliminate anxiety live truncated and sad lives.

So, our task is to attempt to improve our judgment as to what constitutes a calculated risk for an outcome that is worthy.  How do we improve our judgment?  By taking risks, becoming experienced, getting some knocks along the way that motivate us to exercise better judgment the next time.

Today I did what is becoming my usual training run.  A 35 mile up and over out and back course with lots of hills, turns, burning sun and threatening wind and thunderstorms.  An excellent training course.

Navigating a 2 mile descent to the turnaround point there are many twists and turns in the road.  Today I encountered a `crease' in the road surface at one of the turns while doing 35.1 mph (according to the Garmin) and feathering the brakes.  My wheel drifted in and out of the crease in the road and I went down, sliding about 15 yards to the sandy shoulder of the road.  I got three nice, red skin burns (aka `road rash') destroying my shorts and an arm `cooler' in the process.  Mountain training course - Crease in Road

What did I learn? 

• To be alert to that curve and crease.  
• That I made a good decision in buying cheap riding shorts at Walmart.  
• That when something like that happens it is best to take an inventory of your body first, the bike next.  
• To do whatever road repairs necessary to safely finish the training course.  
• To finish.  
• To finish!

A fellow in the group with which I was riding was coming back up the mountain and was good enough to stop and offer assistance.  I asked him if, when he got within cell phone service, he could call my wife to get her to come get me.  He made sure I had food and water and took off.  I got the bike back on the road, rode to the turnaround point and started back up the mountain.  When he got to the start point (Safeway) he drove back, halfway to Wilhoit, in his car to assure I was o.k..  He offered to drive me back.

What a great fellow!  Again, he assured I had food and water and even offered to give me `a push' as we were on a 6-7% incline.  I thanked him profusely but declined the offers.  As for the push I told him that my `ego' wouldn't allow me to accept it.  We shook hands and I assured him I would `pay it forward.'  I took off and as he drove past me he honked and I waved. 

Perhaps more importantly, today, I learned that I need to begin to modify my training program to include short uphill intervals.  I was passed by a handful of DF cyclists while climbing the 4 mile elevation to a `rocky top.'  Though I am improving my endurance I need now to carefully but deliberately begin intervals.

I'll review my plan to include this 4 mile 3% - 8% series of steady inclines so as to ... go faster.

A good day!!