Sloppy Training Tips for Disorganized Mortals

Sloppy.  And far from `correct.’  But I’m pretty happy with today’s `training for disorganized mortals.’ 

Two weeks from tomorrow (Sunday, Sep 15) a local annual cycling event will take place.  The Skull Valley Loop Challenge.  Fifty-four miles of climbing and descending (about 4,500 feet).  Drop dead gorgeous mountain terrain in Arizona’s Central Highlands.  Screaming descents (-3% -11%) on glass smooth roads for more than a dozen miles (video of me doing one of the long descents).  Demanding, non-stop ascents (+3 +9%) for more than 9 miles.  Miles and miles of rollers.  And more than 10 miles of rapid ascending and descending, sharp-angle mountain cliffside switchbacks.   Words just can’t describe this course. 

I live less than a mile from the start and end points of this event (SVLC Route).  I train on some or all of this course all year long.  I never tire of the almost overpowering majesty and beauty of the terrain.  I’ve studied the geology (`rotten granite,’ `1.8 billion year old gneiss,’ `rhyolite lava flows from massive tectonic separations’).  Scrub brush desert to Prescott Pinon forest ranges.  Monsoon rains and lightning.  Intense, body killing solar radiation and heat at high altitude. 

Today I did the Skull Valley Loop clockwise, i.e., in the opposite direction (SVL clockwise today).  It’s actually much harder to do the `loop’ clockwise.  The last half of the route is unremittingly and increasingly steep.  It just grinds and grinds. 

Train heavy.  Race lite. 

When I train I carry 100 oz of water and `food,’ an extra tire, 4 tubes, tools, food, clothes for 3 seasons.  Probably as much as 25 – 30 lbs of stuff.   Given the rapid uppy-downy nature of the terrain I have an uncommon gearing setup (even for a recumbent).  A 58/42 double upfront.  And a ten speed 11/36 cassette in back.  The 58/11 combination allows me to maintain power (and speed at approx. 46 mph) on the initial descents and flats before I spin out (approx. 114 rpm).  The 42/36 combination lets me crank within a comfortable rpm on the steepest of the climbs. 

Yesterday I was a pig.  I ate sausages, cake, pasta, pizza, lots of bread and peanut butter.  Half a bottle of wine.  All of this put me at a 195 lb starting weight this morning.  (Within 5 miles my body gets the point,  authorizes emphatic peristalsis … and I’m returned to something somewhat lighter). 

The first half of the `loop’ was great.  Some ups and downs but lots of long descents where I could really put that 58t front ring to work. 

In a `race’ (for me) it’s important to be able to produce lots of power without backing off.  I’m particularly motivated to `catch’ whomever is in front of me.  Especially on the climbs.  Why `especially on the climbs?’  Because other cyclists ride upright, diamond frame bikes and they smugly `know’ that “recumbents can’t climb.”  I like to pass them on the climbs.  Aggression.  Almost to the point of dangerous hostility.  When I’m doing this I literally don’t care if my heart rate exceeds 3 digits.  I’m often breathing so hard I sound like a train. 

When I race the `loop' I carry nothing.  No water.  No tools.  No tubes.  No food.  Nothing.  I don't stop.  Just me on the bike.  And I'll probably drop 10 lbs by then.  I feel literally `bouyant' for the race.  And I'm (humility is such a burden) fast. 

So today I made myself do a non-stop 17 mile climb in the 58t big ring upfront.  My cadence, at times, was as low as 40 rpm.  My speed stayed just barely above 4 mph at times.  The last 5 miles of this climb was constantly between 6% and 11%. 

I was fat.  Carrying 30 lbs of dead weight.  And cranking low and slow. 

I know that pro trainers and many other more informed cyclists disapprove of, or find this training tactic either pointless or destructive.  For me, however, it builds a) capacity to endure the stress of constant power output, b) muscle and ligament strength. 

At the very end of the `loop’ (clockwise) there is a 2 mile steep descent.  I clicked into the 58/11 and tore down the descent.  I had to feather the brakes at one point because the rushing wind was pushing my helmet visor down over my eyes. 

Sloppy.  Heavy.  Mortal.  And better.   

Dan Fallon: Descent to Skull Valley

Dan Fallon: Descent to Skull Valley

The descent to Skull Valley from the top of Iron Springs Road is 12.2 miles long. (http://ridewithgps.com/trips/1623786)

The last 7 miles of the road has been completely repaved allowing the total descent to be on glass smooth surface with wide shoulders.  This is a video (GoPro) of my descent (starting at 5:30 minutes into vid).  Clear day.  Very little wind (early). 

Purposely restricted my speed to 50 mph, but could easily have exceeded that simply by not feathering the brakes.  I rode a Bacchetta CA2 high racer recumbent bicycle.  This descent is part of the Skull Valley Loop Challenge: (http://www.prescottbikeped.org/prescottcycling/loopchallenge/)

My Experience with Ultracycling

When I was a kid I rode around the block until it was dark.  As a young teenager I rode in a `pack' with other kids.  When I was 16 I decided to ride the circumference of Lake Michigan.  Then I took up running.  That and work and family kept me stretched for a few decades.  In my late forties I came back to cycling.  It was always a release, for fun.  Sometimes for social interaction. 

It wasn't until my early fifties that I made a real effort to ride long distances (which amounted to club centuries a few times a month in good weather).  That grew to week long events of over one hundred miles a day.  Throw in a few one day double centuries. 

In 2008 I began riding the recumbent bike.  Big improvement.  More miles, far less agony (no more saddle sores, sore shoulders, neck pain, numb hands and wrists).  I got a `bug' in me to join the UltraMarathon Cycling Association in 2009 for the purpose of setting a few cross State (Illinois and Indiana) speed records. 

And then things got complicated, expensive and much less fun.  My own fault.  I got on the `ultracycling' macho machine.  Criminy!  The money I spent. 

Knowing me, it had to be done.  A very, very complicated set of expectations and motives played themselves out over a good five year period. 

With significant exceptions (people I met) the fun got extinguished by politics, people wanting to sell bikes, and an enormous amount of `mine is bigger than yours.' 

I seem to do most things in `fives.' 

I am still very much involved in challenging myself with demanding bicycling activities.  But I've returned to the `fun' of it again.  I still consider myself an ultracyclist and have the current credentials to prove it. 

In some respects, stepping back from attempting to be an illuminatus in the cycling world is like chopping off an arm.  There is a mania (and myopia) about it.  And giving up an addictive delusion leaves one in a state of intense introspection: what am I getting back for all the energy I'm putting out?

I'm fortunate to live in one of the most exciting, spectacular and challenging places in the world.  I can roll out my front door literally instantly have multiple options for meaning and fulfillment. 

More to come on this topic.  I consider it a welcome maturation process.

A 58t Front Chainring Will NOT Make Me Faster on the Downhills

I'm changing my front triple (55/39/30) to a double (58/42).

In doing so I'm stepping smack into the middle of the mistaken conclusion of many that I'm doing so in order to exceed my current 54 mph max downhill speed. 

First, I can exceed the 54 mph max downhill speed already without changing my gearing.   Just don't use the brakes. 

What with the long, steep and straight descents out my way I spin out in my 55/11 combination at around 42 mph (that's about 111 rpm).  The difference between the 42 mph and 54 mph is solely due to a) angle of descent, b) minimal to zero crosswinds, c) good road quality. 

Second, a 58/11 combination will see me spinning out at around 46 - 54 mph.   

So why am I making the switch?

Short answer: because on the initial ascents and initial descents I will be able to apply power longer (maintain and accelerate speed) before I spin out. 

As it is with the 55t, when the conditions allow it, I spin out and am `stuck' at that speed,  having to `coast' down or up to the next ascent/descent.  I'm just a sack of flower on two wheels restrained by the limits of my pedal rpms. 

Why don't I `pedal faster?'  Because increased rpms generate instability, esp. if conditions are not just perfect. 

Explanation. 

On long, 4%+ descents, many casual/recreational cyclists can exceed 54 mph simply by not applying the brakes.  Especially if that casual cyclist has `ballast.'  (Ask a pro cyclist weighing 120 lbs how difficult it is to achieve and maintain descending speeds). 

I have kept my descending speed `down' to 54 mph simply because it is unneeded risk injected into a race by going faster.  Any extra distance gained by that added speed is lost very quickly at the next turn, when you have to slow down because of a pack of cyclists blocking the road ahead, or because of road conditions. 

When I am capable of consistently maintaining high speed (without spinning out) on initial ascents and initial descents (i.e., achieving `'54 mph' sooner and staying there longer) I accumulate additional distance over my competitors.  I get fast faster and stay fast longer because I can continue to apply power to the pedals at a manageable rpm. 

Example #1:

A cyclist will pass me (doing 58-60 mph) on a roller.  He then begins ascending the next hill/roller.  As gravity slows him down he applies power until he either reaches his power-to-weight maximum or he has to downshift. 

As I begin ascending that next hill/roller my 58t big ring allows me to apply power longer without spinning out, passing the other cyclist at a good rate of speed, adding cumulative distance that will be very difficult for the other cyclist to recover.  (Note: I have a very strong power to weight ratio; much better, longer, than most cyclists).

Example #2: 

I and another cyclist will be racing neck and neck as we reach the next descent.  As we both accelerate down the descent he will reach his `spinout' threshold (i.e., when he has to stop applying power and simply coasts) sooner.  Because I have a bigger (58t) front ring I will be able to apply power longer without spinning out.

Caveat:

There are many cyclists who are both capable and willing to pedal at a faster cadence, higher rpm, than me.  All things being equal, then, the advantage of my 58t ring will be reduced. 

Overstimulated

I'm coming north today at milepost 303 and I look up at the road just before mp 305.  A big white 18 wheeler seemed to be parked in the ash pullout.  

The White Spars 

Sure enough, it's a big honkin' 18 wheeler. Stopped on the pullout.  

I concluded that the driver `clicked to' the fact that the snaking switchbacks below and ahead would be a might too dicey.  I pulled across the road to the driver's side and yelled up "You need some help turning around?"

The driver looks at me quizzically, scowls a little, opens the door and climbs down.  Silence.  Says nothing.  

I say to him: "You don't want to continue on south because the switchbacks are too tight, you'll take out guardrails, damage your trailer, maybe even go off the cliff.  Not to mention that it's illegal."  

He bobbles his head, frowns and looks down the road, then at me, then up the road.  Then again at me.  

O.K..  He doesn't speak English.  

So I gesture at the road ahead and drag an imaginary knife across my throat.  Like all those Italian guys who used to beat me up in fourth grade.  

Nothin'.  Now he thinks maybe I'm gonna kill him?!

At that time I'm thinking, `he's got dark features, maybe he's Mexican.'  So I garble "Tu tiene ayudar a volver?"  (Trying not to screw it up and mistakenly order eggs and bacon from a Mexican menu).

Nothing.  More bobbling and frowning.  

O.K.  A little ... uh ... German.  

Nada. 

Finally, I'm reaching back to my Latin days.  But then I'm fearful that he'll think I'm damning or blessing him.  Or, even say something about underwear (Brother Hugh ... I get it.  I get it.).  

Then he starts talking.  And talking.  Nonstop.  Arms flailing, head spinning, eye's wide and wild.  

Hindi.  

Hindi?!!  

I don't know ANY friggin' Hindi.  

---

In a few minutes I'm standing on the double yellow line prepared to stop traffic while he turns his rig around.  He straightens out on the northbound lane and heads off, me giving him a thumbs up and hoping this gesture doesn't mean anything obscene about his mother.  

A mile north, milepost 306, he's pulled over by the AZ Highway Patrol.  I pass but then turn around, imagining what the police officer must be going through.  As I pull up to them both the driver smiles, points at me.  More bobbling.  

I explain events and the patrolman nods and tells him (shouts at him, like that will make him understand English better) he won't be issuing him a ticket because of what I say.  The driver smiles.  The patrolman shakes my hand and gestures to the driver to shake my hand.  The driver holds out his hand, confused.  It feels like vegetables gone bad as I shake it. 

I'm off.  

Way too much stimulation.  

Way too much.  

Waaaaayyyy too much.   

I Should Know Better

With the exception of five weeks in May and June I've averaged 19+ hours per week training on the bike.  Out here it's not so much the number of `miles' one logs per week because of the `no-choice' climbing.  So, it's a combination of feet climbed AND mile per week. 

I've been averaging 15,000+ feet climbed per week for the past 6 weeks, with last week topping at 26,000 feet and 244 miles.  Twenty one hours of training.  So far this year I've climbed more than 400,000 feet over 5,000 miles.  I'm on track to beat last year's record of 670,000 feet of climbing over 7,100 miles. 

In a short while I'll be out again (Friday) for 100 miles, 10,000 feet in 9 hours.  Prescott - Congress Loop

I did some gardening yesterday and my body feels like it's been in the ring with George Foreman for 15 rounds.  What?!!!  Gardening?

I was on my knees in the dirt, I kept getting up to get some tools, walking from one location to another in the yard, sitting in the dirt, bending over (and over and over) dozens of times.  My back and glutes are killing me. 

I should know better. 

Cycling all those miles, developing all those muscles ... has resulted in an imbalance.  I have enormous endurance.  But I find I'm inhibited from walking up and down the local roads.  I come back with sore feet and a sore lower back.

I have almost no upper body endurance, i.e., I can lift this and that with good strength but I tire quickly.  My arms were killing me last night because of all the digging.

I should know better. 

So it's time to recognize the obvious and get back on the indoor rower, do some core calisthenics and some upper body weight lifting.  If I don't `plan' it into my plan it won't get done.  Because, to me, it feels like I'm slacking off on cycling. 

I should know better.

Kersploosh!!

Sometimes it hits me about getting older.  It's like taking a 30 ton boat out for a ride with a 40 ton anchor on a 100 feet chain into 300 feet of water.

Reverting to form

I finally got rid of the `smartphone' that I erred in purchasing last month.  Lot's of `data' and too little `information.'  

Much like the medical industry, the digital industry considers consumers to be `microorganisms' with which to experiment in a petri dish.  They produce electronic gizmos to make fools of buyers who, like pigeons in a lab, respond predictably (not productively) to the intermittent reinforcement principle.  They keep `pecking/buying' til they break their beak/bank account.  (Look it up).  

A.  I'm not that important that people need to get a response from me between heart beats.

B.  Seeing on a little screen what I already know isn't sufficiently stimulating to my occipital lobe that it overrides my prefrontal cortex.  

If I were going to become addicted or dependent upon something it would be chemical rather than digital.  

Besides, there isn't much out there that holds promise to make me `better' than my slovenly, grumpy and cynical (yes.  hard to believe, isn't it) self.

"Inert. You're boring."

That's what my doc called me today.

BP: 113/68
Steady at 180 lbs
Resting (more like napping) HR: less than 52 bpm
Empty drum for lungs

Told me to `watch for that sun. Fair skin and all.'

Told her I look like a Klansman with a white sun drape under my helmet, white arm coolers, white gloves, long white no-name cotton socks, 

iridescent air-force orange jersey, 25+ 18" long screaming pink ribbons flying from the back of my seatbag.  

She says: "Oh!  You're that guy on that lean-back bike riding out over the White Spars!"  

"Uh huh."

"Cool.  What about your knees?  You use sunblock!"

Some people you just can't please.  

Hoodoo 300 or Skull Valley Loop 320

My wife, Anna, just cleared more of the mist in my head about the issue I've been exploring (and briefly been blogging about for the past few months): motivation. 

"Oh yeah.  That makes much more sense."

Internal motivation v. external motivation. 

Cycling, in particular.

Yesterday I wound up doing a training route I hadn't really planned to do so soon after being off the bike for about 5 weeks:  The Skull Valley Loop

The western section of the `Loop' has been undergoing major repaving over the past 8 or so months and I hadn't ridden it for at least that long.  I discovered yesterday that, in fact, the repaving is almost completely done.  And this great training course is back `online.'

The Hoodoo 300 is a challenging 24 hour race taking place just outside of St. George, Utah.  Home Page of Hoodoo / PlanetUltra Events

I had chosen the Hoodoo 300 as a key cycling event for '13 because of the following reasons:

• it is very challenging both in terms of miles and feet climbed;
• a recumbent has never entered this race;
• it is well-known among ultra racers as a demanding course.

These were the `external' reasons for choosing the Hoodoo 300.

And what about the `internal' reasons?

(There is nothing like `money' to give one pause to think something through a bit more carefully.  Entry fee, motels, gas, equipment, food and time would put this event into the $750 range, at the least.) 

I live in a location that possesses almost all of the challenges that the Hoodoo 300 would provide, except for the elevation factor.  Top elevation out here would be 6,100 feet.  Top elevation of the Hoodoo 300 would be 10,600 feet.  Significantly higher. 

For people living at the lower altitudes the Hoodoo event offers the additional challenge of dealing with the effects of altitude.  Not so much for me, actually.  Some difference but not as much as for someone who lives in, say, Tucson or Houston. 

So I asked myself:

`Why would I do something that is less challenging than what I already did on May 11, 2013 190 Miles and 19,000 feet # 1 and 190 Miles and 19,000 feet # 2 ?'

And the answer I came up with was: Ego ('internal motivation').  I'd want other people to be impressed. 

Comparing doing 300 miles of the Skull Valley Loop with 300 miles of the Hoodoo 300 makes a compelling case to change my choice of challenges, save money, and scratch my ego itch.  The difference, however, would be that I wouldn't get the easy peer recognition of having done a well-known ultra event. 

So I find that I'm back at the `why am I doing this?' question.  This time, however, I may benefit from the thinking and introspection about motivation of the last five or six months. 

Hoodoo 300:

• 300 miles long;
• 18,368 feet of climbing;
• 10,600 ft max altitude;
• $750+ cost;
• peer recognition.

Skull Valley Loop:

• 6 loops;
• 320 miles long;
• 29,184 feet of climbing;
• 6,100 ft max altitude;
• < $100 cost;
• not widely known about, significantly less peer recognition.

I think I've made my mind up.  There is an `internal' motivation of a greater cycling challenge that trumps peer recognition.  There is also the `external' factor of saving lots of money. 

So here's the plan.

The local Prescott Alternative Transportation organization is holding an invitational Skull Valley Loop Challenge on the same day as the Hoodoo 300.  I'll use the Skull Valley Loop Challenge event as the first of six (6) loops to my own 24 hour, 320 mile, 29,184 ft of climbing `ultra' event. 

Interesting (if slow) process of introspection and analysis for me. 

UPDATE: April 3, 2016:

Didn't do it. 

RAAM 2013 - Close Call

Last week the Follow Vehicle in which I was riding (Crew Chief and Navigator) was hit from behind by another vehicle traveling at 65 mph.  We were traveling at less than 25 mph. The crew in the van was shaken up (cuts, bruises, head trauma, etc). 

 

The driver of the vehicle that hit us admitted that she was texting at the time.  There is suspicion that she may have been impaired while under the influence.

 

The accident occurred on Rte 160, ten miles east of Tuba City, AZ, on the Navajo Reservation. 

 

At the time of the accident we were in Close / Direct Follow (50+/- feet) mode behind our racer.  I had just finished handing off a water bottle to the racer, having extended my body out the passenger side window from the waist up.  

 

The impact propelled our vehicle (Dodge Caravan) up and out just short of the racer.  Two of the 3 bikes were totally destroyed.  All of the bike parts and equipment in the vehicle were destroyed.  The vehicle was totaled.

 

In the aftermath of the accident I concluded that the damages (human and material) were too severe to continue `racing' the Race.  I called the RAAM HQ and declared a DNF. 

 

The racer and crew spent the night in a local motel and met in the morning for a `post mortem.'  The racer wanted to finish riding the bike to the east coast (Annapolis).  My conclusion was and remains that the benefit of doing so was not worth the risk.  Three of the 12 crew withdrew from the race while the racer and remaining crew (mostly family and family friends) continued on (with rented crew vehicles, etc). 

`Complaining' vs. `Whining'

When there are problems somebody has to identify them and describe them.

Problems cannot be `fixed' unless they are known and worked on.

When someone senses a problem they should bring that problem to people who have the ability or resources to fix it. This process can be referred to as a `complaint.'

Complaints are essential to fixing problems.  Without complaints problems persist and worsen.

The motive behind complaining is to eliminate a problem.
--

When someone identifies and describes a problem but does not bring it to the parties who have the resources to `fix' the problem this is called `whining.'

The motive behind whining is to draw attention to oneself (pity, sympathy, etc) and/or to bad mouth / denigrate another.
--

When we make a good faith effort to not `whine' about things we will find that we don't have much to say.   When we eliminate whining in our lives we may find that the silence can be unbearable.

So, the take home message here is to complain more and whine less.
--

If all your friends knew the difference between complaining vs whining ... would you have less to say?  Would they? 

Don't Mix the Serious with the Grave

Recently I've both observed and experienced how neutral observations or comments can be used as a springboard for some to launch bombastic reactions and attacks.

A friend recently wrote an article about how a particular bicycle platform (recumbent) was excluded from world class cycling competition in the mid-1930's.  He noted how Hitler was gaining influence in the world during that time.

A reader of his article jumped on him for mentioning Hitler, accusing him of maligning the memory of the millions who suffered under Nazism.

I recently asked a cyclist how she would train for an extremely challenging endurance event that included more than 33,000 feet of climbing over 500 miles in 48 hours.  She lives in a flat location. The cyclist unloaded a skreed, defending herself, accusing me of being critical, followed up with a dollop of semi-hysterical insults.

The only way to understand this kind of behavior is to be sympathetic to the pain these folks are experiencing.  A pain that is so very much `on the surface' that it generates an explosion of offense.

If we live long enough we get the opportunity to see ourselves in others.

Cycling Mountain Roads

First rule: Control
Second rule: Control.

Out here there is a 12.2 mile continuous descent (4% - 10%) from the top of the Prescott National Forest to Skull Valley, AZ.  Iron Springs Road.  Fortunately this road is very straight with slight bends that are well seen at a distance.

The spring winds make this stretch of road treacherous.  Forty mph crosswinds on a cyclist doing 48 mph will put you down fast, leaving not much more than an ugly smear on the road.

East of this descent, and on the other side of the Bradshaw Mountains, is something a mite more complicated but equally threatening.  The White Spars.  AZ 89.  Part of the RAAM route.

From the north (mile post 310) going south on 89 there is a 5 mile 4.5% climb to 6,100 ft elevation.  Then there is a 7 mile series of steep ascents, steep descents and 40 - 190 degree blind curves and switchbacks.  The cyclist has three options: 1. stay on the road; 2. fly off a cliff; 3. slam into a solid granite rockface.

Finally, starting at mile post 298 there is a continuous 9 mile descent, 3 miles of which involve more steep, blind switchbacks.  The remaining 6 miles is 4% - 7% in open prairie with stiff headwinds and crosswinds at all times of the year.

Motorcyclists flock to the `Spars' in the season.  Some are commuters and it is clear that they are used to the  road and simply getting to or from the job.  Most, however, are utter fools.  Evidence for this is noted by the 2 dozen or so crosses (`road shrines') on either side of the road.  Every year several road shrines come down and are replaced by others, more recent.

Last Saturday I had a mechanical problem (high gear set screw cracked in half - couldn't shift) that required me to `coast' down from mile post 298 to 296 (where there is a saloon, the Burro Inn, and the only cell phone coverage for dozens of miles).  While waiting for the rescue vehicle (my reliable and understanding wife, Anna) I sat on the deck of the saloon.  It was still early (I started riding that morning at 3am) and the owner and his daughter were in the process of getting the saloon ready to open.

Looking like a shrink-wrapped lycra peacock I sort'a wanted to explain why I was sitting on their deck.  We struck up a really nice conversation (he's `Ray' and she's `Holly').

The topic of motorcycles, road shrines and motorcyclists with a death wish came up.  Lots to talk about of course.

Five years ago a motorcyclist with more horsepower than brains was screaming around a 20 mph left hand blind switchback at 40+ mph.  He was `in his lane' hugging the yellow double line.  Coming the opposite direction was a mom and her 9 year old daughter on the way to the dentist in Prescott.  Mom was `in her lane' just a few inches from the double yellow line.

Physics.  The motorcyclist's head was `over' the double yellow line.  His wheels were `within' the double yellow line.

He was decapitated.  (I guess there is a reason they call it a `brain bucket').

One of the more interesting fatalities on the Spars.

Doesn't get much better than this ...

Out on the road a bit before 5am with the plan to do 135 miles and 12,500 ft of climbing. All went really well. The Surefire headlamp lit up the night. The roads were virtually empty. The rear Conti Hard Shell Gatorskin with two (count 'em, two) tire liners handled well.

Made the first turnaround where paved road ran out on Iron Springs (toward the town of Skull Valley) and returned to the HQ in Prescott for quick change into dry clothes ready for the heat of the day. 

Took off toward Congress, up and over the Bradshaw mountains and down to Wilhoit when the RD wouldn't shift. Stopped to diagnose problem. 

Took over half an hour to finally ID that the set screw for high gear had cracked (?!! SRAM X0?!!) and was half in/out. Killed the Garmin at that point and called the posse (my patient and forbearing wife) for a rescue.

Still 45 miles and 6,200 ft of climbing is better'n a sharp stick in the eye. Felt fresh and ready for another 90 miles and another 6,300 ft of climbing. Probably do it on Monday or Tuesday, instead.

Waited for my wife at the Burro Inn and Saloon in `Nowhere, AZ.' Too early for them to open but spoke with owner and his daughter about the dozens of people killed over the past few years while kareening over the Bradshaw mountains on the White Spars. Finally got some names that go with some of the road shrines along the road.

Plan to drive back to the Burro Saloon for a few cold ones and a home made pizza pretty soon.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/304095072

How to get decapitated on a bicycle

It was a weird training session yesterday.  Having pushed pretty hard the previous two days yesterday was an `easy' workout.  I joined a good friend who recently got an Ice trike and was getting some miles under his belt.  Together we did one out and back `lap' of about 26 miles.  Then I did another lap at a faster but not intense pace. 

On the first lap my friend and I saw an elk casually cross the road about 50 yards ahead.  It pranced off into the wide open grassland toward Mingus Mountain. 

Then, on my solo lap two uncommon events occurred.  At about mile 32 a big construction truck went flying by at the speed limit (65 mph).  All of a sudden a `projectile' from the open back of the truck took vertical flight for about 25 feet and then, rotating, plummeted down to the road.  Turns out it was a big empty 5 gallon bucket.  Hitting the road, catching the 15-20 mph wind in wildly gyrated, spinning along the road landing in the middle of the right hand of two eastbound lanes.  I recognized the danger of this bucket and immediately stopped to get it off the road and down a gulley. 

Then at about mile 36 another open bed truck went speeding by.  It was loaded with what looked like someone's home furniture.  As the truck became parallel to me a mattress not well tied down `took flight.'  It flew up, spun, gyrated in the air and was coming down ... ON ME. 

As I was calculating the mattress' trajectory and managing the speed and direction of the bike the mattress flew over my head, missing me by about 4 feet. 

Of all the calamities I imagine on my training sessions getting decapitated or smeared on the road like a bug by a bed mattress is not one of them.

Climbing on a recumbent

I live in Prescott, AZ.  The `flattest' training course I can find is 27 miles and 1,500 feet of climbing.

Last year I rode only 7,100 miles but climbed 570,000 feet.  At this point in 2013 I've ridden 2,080 miles and climbed 112,000 feet.  I'm trying to do more miles this year while not pushing the million feet climbed mark.  In other words, my location doesn't allow me NOT to climb a lot. 

For long steady miles of climbing 3% - 5% grades do your best to find a low gear that allows you to remain aerobic.  Your goal should be to complete the long climb with plenty of energy remaining for the rest of the ride.

On short steep climbs there are a few things to consider.  If the grade is (in my case) between 12 - 15%, and only 20 - 30 yards long I gear down to my lowest gear and employ both high spinning rpms and watch my speed.  If my speed gets below 4.5 mph I know I'm risking wobbling and will consider walking up the hill.  I allow my heart rate to increase, knowing it will be very temporary. 

On rolling terrain I try to use accelerate my speed and let inertia take me up as much of the next roller as possible.  And then I just assess how much I need to gradually increase watts/power while gearing down into lower gears.  Always a judgment call as to the ultimate length of the course and how strong my legs are. 

On long rides involving a variety of flats, rollers, short hills and steep climbs (not to mention switchbacks with 22% corners) I have to measure out my effort so that I don't get destroyed by being overly aggressive on the climbs.  And then, of course, there is the issue of `headwind' or `tailwind.'  And the heat.

Yesterday 80.2 miles 7,240 feet I was fortunate to have a 15-20 mph tailwind climbing a 9 mile long 4-9% grade section of road.  I was faster climbing and my heart rate was manageable.  Sadly, that was a rare exception.  I'm usually grinding up that grade much more slowly. 

In my case, and only because I don't have much of a choice, I've gotten stronger legs and hips.  Because of that I'm pretty good at climbing both short and long.  But I learned, of course, how to do this slowly and with lots of sloppy rides.  That is, I'd go too fast, climb too hard, and find myself depleted of energy over the last half or so of the ride. 

Some times I'll ride a course of long miles of relatively short rollers (2 - 4%).  Given that I always get a chance to `rest' on the downhill sections I'll hammer.  With time and experience it is a reasonable thing to do.  And it's lots of fun, esp with a strong tailwind.

FWIW I weigh around 185-190 lbs, train with weight (lots of water, sometimes 3 seasons worth of clothes because of the frequent changes in altitude), and am 67.  I don't really know what being 67 means in terms my ability and performance because I never did this crazy ultra stuff when I was younger.  I can only guess that if I put the same effort and intensity into Ultracycling when I was younger I would have produced better results. 
 

More on motivation ...

(I ride without music.  Part of it has to do with safety.  Part of it has to do with the fact that, after a while, it's like chewing dead chewing gum.  At least half my reason for no music is because I get a chance to think about things.) 

Yesterday, on an 8 hour ride, a few things came together for me about my own motivation. 

I entered three 24 hour races in the past 12 months and finished none of them.  If nothing else, I spent a lot of money traveling places just to DNF. 

I didn't feel the least bit `bad' about DNF'ing three big events in a row.  THAT is what really got me thinking about motivation.

Why did I put all that time and money into something that, when I DNF'd, it wasn't a problem?

On two of the 24 hour events my DNF was, what I consider, `legitimate.  That is I didn't have the physical resources to finish (another story).  However, this last February was different.  I stopped after 14 hours because `it wasn't worth it.' 

Not `worth' it?!

And no sense of disappointment in myself after DNF'ing?!

Here is where you, the reader, may want to stop reading.  Although this is about `motivation' it has to do with MY motivation.  Maybe generalizable to you.  Maybe not.

-----------

Work in process.  That's how I consider myself these days. 

First, I've learned not to be so vulnerable to other's opinion of me or my actions.  We can call it  many things but `maturity' is probably the most accurate. 

Second, my own temperament.  We each have a `temperament' and psychological research suggests that there is a great deal of heritability to temperament.  I have a low tolerance for most people, despite my profession.  When younger I tended to try to change people.  Now, older and more mature, I realize that is disrespectful and pointless.

Finally, I am concerned about what only a very few people think of me or my actions.  (And, if their opinion of me is based on my cycling performance ... we've both made a mistake).

--

Several years ago I gave an interview about why I was doing the Race Across the West - RAW (which I ultimately didn't finish).  The interviewer stated that it was a certainty that I would finish.  I corrected him, stating that "if I knew I could do it I wouldn't."  ?!!

RAW, to me, was an unanswered question.  Did I have it in me to finish?  I found out that I did not have sufficient training to finish.  The lesson was that Ultracycling is harder than I thought.  And if I wanted to be successful at it I would have to devote more time and resources to training.

I subsequently put in more time and devoted more resources to my training.  I completed a few events (including a 24 hour race) that had never been before on a recumbent. 

More important, however, I learned what it takes to successfully complete significant Ultracycling events. 

--

The 24 hour event that I ended after 14 hours because it wasn't `worth it' confirmed to me what I said several years earlier: If I knew I could do it I wouldn't.  I knew that I could successfully complete the 24 hour event.  So I stopped when the `pain v. benefit' equation became apparent. 

Why, then, did I devote so much time and effort to the 24 hour event?

--

So this is what I have learned about myself, so far. 

• My real motive for the race was `social.' 
• I wanted to meet the people I had communicated with for years but never `saw.' 
• I wanted to spend time with a few old friends I missed. 
• I wanted to see the 24 hour course that so many people had talked about. 

--

What a surprise. 

Surprised because I recognized that the core source of motivation for me is consistent: Only a challenge that is mammoth, the outcome of which I am uncertain, is `worth it.'  ("If I knew I could do it I wouldn't.")

Surprised that I was interested in the people of the event.  A `social' appeal?!  This realization is counter to all the psychological defenses I have built to keep from being hurt by other's opinion of me.  It counters my `hermit' temperament. 

--

So, what am I going to do differently, now that I have conscious awareness of the topography of my motivation?

Well, first, I'm going to admit that I am more social than I have allowed.  Deconstructing some defenses is scary, but `worth it.'

Then I'm going to be more careful about choosing cycling challenges.  It turns out that I live in a location that has no end to cycling challenges.  Is it `worth it' to me to attempt these challenges knowing that social approval and prestige are unlikely to be gained?   A `private' challenge.

Then there is, for me, the moral component of this.  Training for and spending money on events that I ultimately don't really care about has implications. 

An intense training plan means that I short-change family and friends.  When I'm training I'm absent. When I'm not training I'm tired and not much of a friend or husband. 

Money is not for free.  Without going into detail it is a moral `thing' for me to not `waste' money that other people deservedly need.  Hotels, gasoline and road food ... these are not socially appropriate uses of money. 

The Role of `Anger' in Motivation

Anger is kerosene looking for a match.

Anger is `ready, FIRE, aim.'

In my private practice I'd tell my patients that `comparing yourself to others is the road to hell.'  Some of us spend our life struggling to the summit of a steep climb only to discover another steep climb to another summit.  And on and on.

It isn't surprising, then, to find so many feeling overwhelmed to the point of giving up. 

A more considered view of `motivation' involves asking ourselves what we really desire, value, `want.'  To let other's opinions of us to bleed into what we think of ourselves ... is the road to hell. 

Ultracycling, I've stated elsewhere, is a humility training machine.  When we try difficult things we discover strengths and limits.  The term `limits,' however is elastic.  The All-Terrain Human   When we `stop' an activity it is usually a conscious decision rather than a physical depletion. 

Twice, that I'm aware of (i.e., conscious of) in the past several months I've found myself doing things I would not have done had I not had an almost blinding sense of `anger.' 

The first occurred while riding the bike through a completely desolate and empty Arizona canyon terrain.  "The Beast"

Most recently I was descending a straight road with a good shoulder at 35 mph.  Suddenly, a barely noticeable rumble strip appeared alongside an equally unnoticeable patch of small gravel.  I skimmed the rumble strip, turning into the gravel patch and started to wobble, preceding a potentially messy `go down.' 

Having had some pretty spectacular wipe-outs in this mountainous terrain over the past year and a half ... I got really angry!! 

My anger `motivated' me to be determined NOT to go down.  From an initial speed of 35 mph I wrestled with the slipping and sliding bike until I was doing less than 3 or 4 mph before I `decided' to accede to gravity and physics.  When I did go down I didn't slide or hit the pavement with force.  I literally just `laid down.'  No road rash.  No scratches or damage to the bike.  And I immediately got to my feet. 

Fear and anger use the same `wiring' in our brain.  However, fear often results in `flight,' while anger often results in `fight.  But, of course, it's not that simple.

Either of the fight or flight `reactions' can keep us alive.  And here is where comes the distinction between a `reaction' and a `response.' 

A reaction bypasses that part of us that makes us different from lower primates, i.e,, a prefrontal cortex (or forehead).  (Threat > fear > reaction (flight/fight).)

The desired outcome is safety but that isn't always what happens.  A `reaction' doesn't get run through our thinking brain.  A `response' does.

Paleolithic (stone-age) man used to hunt large game by forming a group and then `spooking' the large game (buffalo, elephants, etc) into running off a cliff.  The large game were reacting, i.e., not thinking about the possibility that they were going to be killed by a `gravity attack.' 

A better response for the large game would be to look at their previous experience, compare it to the current threat, and decide what was the action that would lead to their safety.  (Threat >  fear/anger > thinking about what worked in the past > comparing the past to the present circumstance > a thoughtful response.) 

But buffalo don't have a prefrontal cortex / forehead. 

Anger, in my situation, seems to have got my `thinking' process activated to perform a series of actions that improved the odds of my safety. 

But be careful.

I'm thinking, these days, how I can step back a bit to see what `lever' in my psyche that anger pulls.  (I think it has to do with a mental `rehearsal' of all that could go wrong in an upcoming event so that I can plan to avoid it or minimize harm if and when the threat occurs). 

So, I'm not hoping to unleash my `anger' as a tool for self-protection.  Rather, I'm stepping back and using previous experience to anticipate danger.  Without the `kerosene' of raging emotion.

A `Common Man' Perspective on Ultracycling

I spent the day yesterday glued to a chair and a computer ... like any good ultracyclist. 

I don't really like `riding' a bike.  Like, `riding' through pastoral settings on a sunny day, just breathing in the scenery and delight.  Boring.  Too much work.  Uncomfortable.  I'd feel guilty for not doing something `productive.'  I don't DO `joy.'

I'd rather be home watching `Bourne' reruns and drinking beer.

Most of my birth family is dead.  And they should be.  At least, speaking from a `lifestyle' perspective, they should be dead.  Smoking, drugs, alcohol, reckless risk-taking and physical violence.  Most people reading this are already nodding their heads in personal agreement.  It's not like `dysfunctional families' are uncommon.  In fact, in our cultures they're the norm. 

Cycling is a `healthy' thing.  It distracts me from depressing rumination.  It's relatively inexpensive.  It affords me the convenience of a passable excuse for not being more sociable.  And depression, hangovers and feeling fat, weak and unhealthy are things I don't have to deal with.  (Does that mean I'm avoiding a fully engaged life?  Absolutely.  Aren't we all!  Jesus!  What a tyranny to be `the best we can be.'  Gag!!)

Back to ultracycling. 

More than a few top-ranked ultracyclists are rich.  Rich enough so that `making a living' doesn't take much time or energy.  And they do what most people do: `Y'a gotta stay busy.'

More than a few really good ultracyclists compress two lives into one by shorting sleep, relationships, career/job development, family.  They are as fanatical about living a `balanced' life as they are about ultracycling.  And, of course, that's impossible.  And, of course, `denial' is a big part of their reality.

And then there are the annoying few who are simply gifted with talent.  They don't read my blog because they're lazy, busy with sleep, or playing video games in the dark on a smelly stained couch in their parent's basement (at age 40).

I kept waking up last night doing `cost/time/effort' analyses between two ultracycling options in April.  Option # 1 is to do a 24 hour solo event in my own `back yard.'  Option # 2 is to do a 600K brevet in Tucson, 5 hours and 250 miles south of  me. 

Money:  Option #1 will cost me ... nothing.  Option #2 will cost me gas, 3 nights in a motel, road food ... totaling about $350 bucks. 

Time:  Option # 1 will take about 30 hours, total.  Option # 2 will take 3.5 days. 

Relationships:  #1, not much.  In fact, my wife and the few friends I have (I'm `good' but I'm not `nice') will probably want to be involved to some degree.  #2, mostly strangers to me.  And on brevets and other ultracycling things I tend to ride my own pace (which is either slower or faster, but never in a group).  When I'm not riding I tend to be either impatient or sort'a gruff.  Or both.  I like to be alone a lot.  (Maybe I'm an introvert.  But more likely I'm just temperamentally a grouch, often offending people with my blunt ways, unconcerned about approval or fitting in). 

Being Productive:  #1.  You bet!  Confronting challenges that are meaningful to me.  #2.  I'd probably come back feeling like I wasted time and money, and neglected important relationships.  And only afterwords would I admit: who couldn't ride 360 miles in two days, stopping frequently and spending the night sleeping in a comfy bed?!!

I'm not much different than most people.  Except that I've made it my occupation to find that out. 

So that's why I used the term `Common Man' in the title of this post. 

2013

Should be a good year for cycling.  Lot's of major life change issues (retirement, selling house, relocating, renovating new house, scoping out banks needing to be robbed to pay for all of this, etc.) were resolved in '11 and '12. 

2012 cycling was mostly restricted to riding in the mountains.  Seven-thousand miles and 670,000 feet of climbing.  So, that proved to me that `this' 'bent can climb.  But there are `downsides' to training almost exclusively in the mountains.

Going to try to stay more local in `big' event rides and races this year.  (Unless I win that lottery). 

A few tentative events in the schedule:

• April 13 - 600K AZ Brevet out of and back to Tucson (Arizona)
• May 25 - Borrego Double Century (California)
• June 2013 - RAAM Solo Maria Parker (www.3000Milestoacure.com) crewing (USA)
• September 14/15 - Hoodoo 300 (Utah) - or -
• September 15 - Skull Valley Loop Challenge (Arizona)
• November 2/3 - World 24 Hour Time Trials (California)

Recently put together a set of local training courses that don't include constant mountain grades.  Combining mountain training and flat-ish land training will increase miles and decrease feet climbed.  But, such a training demographic should prepare me better for the events noted. 

This constitutes both the mountain and the flat training terrain in my neck of the woods.  Can it be any better?!

Pioneer Parkway to Hwy 69

Hwy 69/Fain Rd to I-17

Skull Valley Loop - White Spars - Very Difficult

Prescott, Arizona - Road Cyclist's Paradise

Here in Mile High Prescott, Arizona, it is `ground-zero' for mind-blowing mountain biking

$35K Winner's Prize

Don't be surprised if our incredible variety of roads (many on the RAAM route) generate serious road cycling venues.

200 Mile, 14,000 ft of Climbing, Road Cycling Course

Unwise Exercise

I recently commented on a New York Times article Running Hard at 66 and Living With the Consequences

Having just returned from a 24 Hour Bike Race in Florida I had both the time and occasion to ponder the issue of `motivation.'  The wind and cold of this race made it an absolutely brutal experience for those participating. 

I chose to stop racing after 14 hours and 212 miles.  I confronted what is, for me, a simple logic: "What do I gain by persisting in the pain and misery of pushing through for 24 hours?!" 

I have (we all have) the physical capacity to push on. 

Is the decision to suffer on proof of `something?'  In my case, it wasn't.  I didn't need it for my ego.  I didn't need it to prove to myself that I can endure pain.  Been there.  Done that.  Old news.  (Besides, the worst pain takes place between our ears.)

So, reading the NYT article the other day came at the right time.

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

 A common limiting factor/problem with running and many other bone/muscle pounding activities, as we get older, is that of this-or-that use-related injury. These injuries increase in frequency and take more time to heal.

While each use-related injury is healing you are typically sidelined for weeks or months at a time. If you're lucky it will just take a ridiculously long time to regain fitness. If you're not `lucky,' and get a serious injury that further pushes you toward inactivity ... so the spiral begins.

So, the `yo-yo' of on-again-off-again injury with these kinds of activities puts a big dent in one's motivation to be fit.

There is a dangerous `if it hurts I must be a stud' mentality that needs to be reconsidered by sincere athletes and fitness afficionados. (Or, as a friend stated recently: "There's too much masochism and suffering in this stuff -- for what?!!")
The `best' part of your body is from the neck up. Put it to better use so that you can continue to enjoy your body from the neck down.

Work at finding a way to enjoy and express yourself in a sport or activity that adds life, spring, bounce and years to your life. Don't look down the barrel of a gun and pull the trigger just to see "if it works."

Brainless Training Tricks!

Training WIthout Brains

Sometimes we let fixed ideas dictate our actions.  This is variably described, ranging from `dedicated,' to `stubborn,' to `stupid.'  Yesterday's training ride included all of these.

The Bike Prescott Club arranged, yesterday, a group ride through 75 miles of forbidding and desolate Arizona terrain.  Though I ride/train very little with others I was very happy to join the group for this challenging trek.

January 22 ... is still Winter!  Here in the higher altitudes of AZ we get slapped around a lot by discovering the rapid-fire caprice of freezing cold, warm and embracing sunlight.  Can't take anything for granted on even the shortest ride. 

Starting out at an altitude of around 4,000 feet we were enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays.  A surprisingly strong wind from the east aided us in our westerly route.  As soon as we started climbing we found ourselves shedding armwarmers, vests, etc. 

Reaching our turnaround point mid-day the wind had (uncharacteristically) diminished and the warmth of the sun was `full on.'  Finally, when we reached the `divide' between climbing and descending the sun was waning we developed a `sweat' and the wind demanded that we at least put the vest back on. 

If the sun just briefly hides behind a rock face or a hill we experience a 10 - 15 degree chill.  Like a light switch.  In the sun it is 72F.  The second we enter shade the temp drops to 50F.  Add wind and sweat and we experience a `wind chill' effect. 

The group ended the 75 mile ride around 4:30 pm, as the sun was beginning to cast long shadows.  And THAT was the right time to end the group ride, as the temp range remained the same but the sunlight was not as warm.  That is, in-the-sun temps were 60's, and shady temps were 40's.  Add wind and wet clothing ... bitter cold. 

Here is where I elected to get `stubborn,' or ride from the neck `down.'

I wanted to cap the 75 mile group ride with an additional solo 25 miles to get a full `century.'  And off into the setting sun I went.  Mostly uphill.  Slowly. 

Twelve and a half miles later I reached the turnaround point.  The sun had firmly set.  I was at an altitude of 5,000 feet.  The mountain desert cold presented itself, as it had always been there.  The temps were in the low 40F's.  I was sweaty and my clothes were wet.  It was getting so dark that I needed to focus on the fog line to stay on the road. 

The 12.5 mile return was all downhill: 4 - 6%. 

And there I was.  I had failed to carry a front light.  I had failed to carry a head lamp in the event I had a flat and needed to see what I was doing.  I had failed to carry the emergency foil wrap to protect against the cold in the event I had a mechanical problem. 

Descending down the hill my hands were so cold as to become almost inflexible.   The cutting cold wind tore into my wet arms and torso.  I was descending at 40+ mph.  The windchill must have been a single digit. 

By the time I was 4 miles from the end cars were using their bright lights to illuminate the road ahead.  I was blinded.  Stark desert darkness shattered by an explosive and disorienting brilliance ahead.  I slowed dramatically as each vehicle passed, aware of the phenomenon of `object fixation,' where one `steers' into the light ahead.  Also aware that the momentary blindness risked me not seeing wildlife (javelina, coyote, deer, etc) that may be crossing the road. 

Finally, I reached the end point.  It was pitch dark.  I was rigid with cold. 

Fumbling with rigid fingers I dropped the keys to my car several times. 

I realized that I needed to shed the wet jersey in which I was freezing in the wind and put on something dry.  This was clumsy and awkward, associated with the odd sense of warmth as soon as my unprotected skin was exposed to the wind. 

Driving home I had the heat on full blast.  I was reminded of the years of winter midnight riding in the frozen tundra of Illinois. 

`Fixed idea.'  An irrational and thoughtless focus on an action that placed me square in the cross-hairs of self-inflicted danger.

Training Without Brains

Great Leader Sports Nutrition Products

As 2013 training and riding season is imminent I thought it might be amusing to post my homage to the snake oil industry:

"Expensive Urinite:" Improve your speed 300% while keeping your heart rate under 85 bpm. Scientifically formulated and tested at a secret underwater independent North Korean humility `Great Leader' sports lab. Trust us!  

Easy to swallow, non-chewable, tasty seaweed flavored powder dissolvable in simple yak milk. 16 oz irradiated `repurposed' nuclear centrifuge canisters @ only $175 each. Money back guarantee if you live that long. 

"Swell Gel:" Dance up hills in happy bliss doing `silly circles' around your grunting competitors. All ingredients in Swell Gel have been personally and individually used by "WADA" scientists and carry their official ` thumbs up with a wink' photo. Unlike other sticky, gooey, gag-me-with-a-spoon gels Swell Gel is snorted by riders. No sticky white residue. 

"Secret Power Suppositories"  For the `daring' competitor, the one who isn't cowed by wussy WADA rules or spy camera crews. Enormous wiener sized slick suppository jam packed with EPO, epinephrine, testosterone, and a veritable plethora of fast acting 'roids. Nobody will know that when it looks like you're just scratching your crotch you're actually inserting a "Secret Power Suppository" up your keester.  

Guaranteed NOT to grow an inch of hair on your shoulders and arms by the end of a Stage.  

Be the first to finish, knowing that when you get off your bike and your knuckles are dragging at your feet you'll have a long night of bike groupies wanting to know you better.  

Amaze your friends when your voice drops from falsetto to alto.

And we promise not to insult your intelligence by selling for dollars what you could buy at your grocery store for pennies. Because WE KNOW you want one of our "GREAT LEADER" T-shirts to prove to your buds that you're one serious, baaaddddd-ass cyclist!