The Perfect Ride

Recently, a friend asked what constituted the Perfect Ride.

And even more recently, I was lucky enough to experience my answer first hand.

First, a perfect ride involves at least a dash (and hopefully more) of Epicness.  Distance, climbing, preferably a combination of the two.  The perfect ride is not SO epic, however, as to intimidate.  No 12% grade of gravel for 5 miles only to have a 12% 5 mile gravel descent awaiting on the other side.  Hard enough to be hard, not hard enough to be gut wrenching.

Second, a perfect ride needs a whole mess of friends along with you for the experience.  All friends need not be at the same fitness level, but all friends need to be willing to either step up and/or slow down to maintain a pace that the whole group can enjoy.

Third, a perfect ride needs a mix of tough and easy.  A nice talkable flat that is followed by a silent climb that is followed by a wicked fast descent.  Wash rinse repeat.

Fourth, a perfect ride needs a nice Store Stop.  If you can find some amazing espresso and homemade baked goods, all the better.  You stop long enough to catch your breath, but not so long that your legs are dead when you hop back on the bike.

Fifth, a perfect ride is not concerned in the least about how long the ride takes.  A perfect ride is flexible in route and mood of the attendees.  A perfect ride goes at its own pace.  No faster, no slower.

Last but not least in Sixth, a perfect ride has a group meal immediately following.  Mexican or Burgers are the best options.  Beer is a must.  This group meal may or may not be followed with icecream.

There are of course endless variations of this perfect ride.  My perfect ride may not be yours (especially if you mountain bike).  Your perfect ride may involve suffering until you puke, or crushing all of your ridemates, or peeing on your bike (Sorry triathletes, obligatory pee-on-bike dig, I love you!).

But regardless of the "what", all perfect rides create memories that last lifetimes.  They strengthen friendships.  They provide the best tasting food in the universe, Zaggat ratings be damned.

Most importantly, though perfect rides remind us why we ride in the first place.

Because riding is perfect.

Descending for Dummies

  

Read back to my first blog post regarding going down. 

http://gsooffnrunning.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-goes-up.html

Ladies and Gentlemen, I can report with unequivocal confidence that the above post is a thing of the past.  While I’m not going to barrel down at 75km/hr a la Tour de France, I do have some impressive local Strava segments of the descending variety.  

In fact, I will go so far as to share with all of you readers some of the gems of wisdom, and some busted myths, I’ve gleaned on my journey from terrified to terrifically fun. 

Myth #1: Do not use your brakes.

Fact #1:  USE YOUR BRAKES, but NOT IN CORNERS and DO NOT GRAB THEM SUDDENLY or RIDE THEM CONSTANTLY

               

To be fair, the above myth does have basis in fact.  When you are cornering, and brake, it takes away your traction and increases the risk of your rear wheel sliding out from underneath you.  In the corner you want ALL of your focus to be the tires gripping the road and you staying smooth through the corner.  Step down in your outside pedal (and stand up slightly as a result), and press down in the inside drop (See Tip #2).  Look through the apex of the turn.  Relax!

Do all of your braking BEFORE the turn.  That being said, DO NOT grab suddenly right before the turn, as it increases the chances of locking up your rear wheel.  So, what should you do?  Lightly feather the brakes to maintain a speed that you are comfortable with.  Off on, off on, lightly, consistently.  Again, NOT IN CORNERS. 

But please, for the love of God, use your brakes.  That’s what they are there for.  As you get more comfortable with your local descents, you will trust yourself more and use your brakes less. 

Tip #1:  Look where you want to go.  NOT WHERE YOU DON’T WANT TO GO.  Oddly enough, this   also works well with horses.  In a schooling ring, riding with 50 other people, most crashes happen when two riders lock eyes and panic.  Same thing.  If you do not want to go over the side of the mountain, do not look over the side of the mountain.  Look at the road ahead of you.  Do not look at the car coming at you in the opposite lane.  Look at the road ahead of you.  Do not look at the pothole 50 feet down the road. Look to either side of the pothole (preferably the side farthest from the double yellow line). 

Myth #2: Stand up on a descent

Fact #2: SIT DOWN ON THE DESCENT

               

With the exception of weighting the outside pedal in a corner, you want to keep your weight in the saddle on a descent.  Why?  The more weight on the rear wheel, then better the traction.  The better the traction, the less chance of sliding out.  STAY SEATED.  If you want to be pro and sit on your top tube, you are probably too cool to be reading this blog anyways, so good luck to you and your 10,000 carbon Di2 14 pound bike with 80mm carbon tubulars.  I hope your Assos bibs don’t get too many rips in them from your road rash. 

Tip #2:   Ride in the drops.  I know, I know, it’s scary, it doesn’t seem to make any sense.  But.  This piece of advice, when embraced, makes descending so much safer.  You can steer better, you can brake better, and your hands don’t get nearly as tired.  If you’ve avoided descending in the drops, please let this testimonial be the kick in the pants that changes things.  You will not regret it.  In fact, this was probably the most important step along my road to descending confidently. 

And finally, a Pro Tip that sums it all up, courtesy of Ashley Powell www.catup.com.

Pro Tip: Confidence. It really takes a lot to overcome the tires' grip on the road so the chances of sliding out are pretty minimal. If you get going so fast that you're uncomfortable, feather the brakes a bit to reassure yourself that you're actually in control, then keep pushing the boundaries to see how much more you can tolerate. In a short time you'll begin to trust the integrity of your machine and it's relationship to the ground and you can relish the other side of the climb instead of fearing it.

Happy Going Fast Downhill, everyone! 

I Will Blow You Up

I, Ladies and Gentlemen, am a ticking time bomb.

Lemme splain.

Early on when I moved to CA, I have to admit, I was depressed when it came to my riding.  I tried to wear a brave face, talk about how much fun I was having simply concentrating on myself… but when I listened to my bad ass friends describe the games on the lunch ride, I felt left out.  How on earth could I bring the “shenanigans” with riders who wouldn’t even have to put out effort to chase me?  How could I split the ride apart?  How could I play tactics and make people hurt, just for fun, even if it meant that I put myself out of the ride in the process?

So I turned to my own story and just tried to JRA each day, mostly with the slower groups. 

Today, when we assembled for the weekly B Roll (don’t let the name fool you), I had good feelings.  My legs felt nice, and I didn’t have to yell at anyone to keep the pace reigned in for the first half.

We were heading out on the usual gentlemanly-until-the-top-of-the-Uvas-bump pace, but then afterwards, it never really ramped up.  Never really took off.   

This was partially my fault, as when I got on the front I refused to put forth an effort to tire me out, and so the pace settled back a touch.  And when I got off the front, I told the next rider to keep it nice, as there was too much time left to start getting too surgy. 

But then, it stayed slow.  Slower than I liked for a B Roll.  We were heading into the sprint section, where usually we rolled at a good clip.  I was bored.  I was about 10 riders off the front.

And I took off.

I stood up, and pedaled as hard as I could, forcing people to wake up to jump on my wheel.  Some of them were too late and fell off.  Everyone had to actually put forth an effort to chase me down.  In seconds, we went from 22mph to 35mph.  My heart rate went from 156 to 184.

When the dust settled, I was off the back, having blown myself up at the effort and unable to get back to the front before the stop sign turn onto Watsonville. 

But for the first time, I honestly didn’t care about getting dropped.  I still had the biggest smile on my face. 

Because for the first time, I was the one who pulled Shenanigans.  I altered the pain threshold of the ride. 

Instead of blowing up, I blew it up.  

Strava tastic

Guess what bitches?

I have 51 QOMs.

12 of them really mean something to me,

Several of them are lunch ride hills. 

One of them is on a technical descent.

One of them is on a major climb local climb.

Are you lost?  Let me explain.

Several months ago, I caught wind of an office phenomena: Strava.

I asked what it was.

I was told that Strava was an online community that allowed you to track your rides against other people in the area, "competing" with them and yourself on different "segments."  Anyone could create a segment from a downloaded ride (which was possible via Garmin download or instantly through your iPhone's Strava App).  Some segments were silly.  Other segments had true bragging rights.

At first I dismissed the whole concept.  Why would I want to compete every time I rode my bike?  What good could possibly come of it?  I already felt down about my riding, so the thought of seeing my mediocrity broadcast on the interweb?  Not appealing.

As with all office peer pressure, though, I eventually succumbed.

And found myself proven completely wrong.

The thing about Strava is that even if you're not high in the rankings on a particular segment, you can always strive against yourself to improve.  It also gives you incentives to keep trying when you get dropped (invariably for me) instead of sitting up and pouting.  So what if I didn't make it with the main group, I got a PR on the Willow Climb from West to East!  I got a big ol' CROWN on my ride.  And that, as you are eating your lunch post ride, makes the rest of the day much easier to face.

Strava connects to the inner desire we all have as cyclists to go faster and farther than before.  It allows your solo ride to become, even for small stretches, a race.  With no chance of crashing, no entry fee, and the support of all your riding companions.

This Thursday for example, I will go climb Coe and try to get a personal record.

Maybe even another QOM...

Want to find out?  Follow me here:

http://app.strava.com/athletes/169227 

A Whole New League

When I moved out to California, it was apparent that I had some...umm...catching up to do.  Not only had I been off my training routine for long enough to make a dent, but I was also way out of my league.

Literally.

I was riding with former national champion titles.  Former world record holders.  Former Pros.  Current regional big dogs.  In addition to multiple titleless freaks of nature.

There was a B Roll, yes, but even then I was blown off the back by ride's end, always limping home with my head hanging down feeling inadequate and lame.  A poseur.  A Big Fish in a Little Pond.

What made it worse was hearing the recaps of all the shenanigans I couldn't participate in.  People playing team tactics, holding back, drilling it on the front, sprint lead outs.  It sounded like a marvelous game in which yes, you might barf, but you always came away smiling from the attempt.

I started to completely reframe how I saw myself as a cyclist.  I started to avoid the Lunch Rides in favor of SBCU rides, and even then I couldn't stay with the front group.  So I started to just ride, and tried to enjoy myself in my own right.

I also started to run again, pretty regularly, without really considering how it effected my cycling.  Because, well, what was there to save for anyways?  As a result, my legs always felt slightly leaden from the 6 or 7 miles I put down in the morning.

There were dark days in terms of my performance for sure.

One day, though, I decided to venture back to the lunch ride, just to see what happened.  And what happened?

I hung on.  Not for the entirety of it, for sure, but longer than many could have.

And I was still running, but no longer feeling fatigued by it.

Then one day, I went out on a B Roll, and finished with the very front group of about 5 people.  And did it again next week.  And again next week.  I rode with SBCU and stayed with the front group easily.  I could attack, and sit in, and play tactics, and crank it on the front, and do all of the things that I had thought beyond me only a few months ago.

I even attempted a 2x30 AT Interval set.  Because I felt like it.  And I AT intervalled the shit out of it.

I still can't and probably never will be able to stay with the lunch ride for its entirety.  I still can't do a lot of things.  But I can go up a steep Cat 2 climb without my HR ever topping 160.  I can drop people.  I can ride smart.


When I started cycling, everyone said that you went in a series of plateaus and improvements.  You got decidedly better, then stayed there, until you once again got decidedly better, only to once again stay there.

So what's the upside?

Guess who just jumped up to the next plateau?

Back in the Saddle

3 words:

What the hell.

If you are friends with me on facebook, perhaps you have seen some photos of my horsey life. Truth is, it used to BE my life. Literally. My profession and my passion. And even when the latter waned, it was still my profession. My job.

When I started Grad School in the summer of 2009, the relationship with the local barn where I saw myself fitting in soured. Not unusual in this field, because to put it simply, 90% of horsepeople are crazy. Not always in a bad way, but in some way, they tick differently than the rest. No place else was in driving distance, and besides, I had my glory, my thunder, my moment in the sun. I had my memories.  I was walking away with no long term injuries. 

I sold my saddle (to buy a bike!). I sold my Vogels. 

I was done with horses.

Even two weeks ago, literally, if you had asked me if I ever wanted to ride again, I would have snorted with derision, and replied in my best I Don't Give a Shit voice "No way, I could never ride a horse again and be absolutely content."

Except that I wrote a letter describing my background to a nice stable literally right across the street, asking if it would be OK if I flatted their horses once in a while, and when the owner said yes she would love to meet me, I almost peed my pants.

I went up to the place while the owner (let's call her Sarah) was teaching a lesson, and I stood in the ring and observed after receiving a very warm welcome. The horse looked extremely well taken care of, a "nice" horse. The ring had wonderful footing and a variety of safe sturdy jumps, all set up the way you would want. A few caveletti also dotted the grounds. Her instructions were clear, and oh so familiar. Like a warm cup of cocoa. Keep him straight. Establish your pace and stick to it. Eye up. Relax your elbow. 

I felt at home home. 

She introduced me to my horse, Gallo, and said that it was a do it yourself place, did I remember how and grinned. 

I did indeed remember how. I remembered EVERYTHING. Showsheen in the tail to remove the shavings (NO SHAVINGS IN THE TAIL!!), mitt everywhere first before you brush, you can pick out both hooves from the same side, how to wrap w/ polos, how to fit the bridle in their mouth. It was all second nature.  Even my uniform felt good to wear:

 (no, they are not handcuffs)

Then came the actual riding.

Ladies and gentlemen, when I say to you I have no earthly idea how I did it 8-10 times a day for a good portion of my 20s, I am not telling tales. I completely forgot the workout. Gallo was a bit stiff and jarring, but he knew what to do if you asked correctly. Emphasis on the last part, because he also had some tricks to get out of the "doing". Which I caught. Which he was NOT happy about. But I was. 

I also forgot the mental concentration. Sure there were some jobs where I was no more than a human longe line, but to really RIDE a horse takes 100% focus 100% of the time. Are they straight? Are they leaning to one side? Are they behind your leg? Are your hands too rigid? Are they bearing down? Are they stiffer to one side than the other? (always yes) Do they pop their shoulders? Are they balanced?

It all came back. 2 years like yesterday. And I don't know why I should be surprised, I'm sure that pro bike racers, even at the lowest levels, can come back after 2 years and remember exactly how to pedal the bike, how to lube a chain, etc. 

I even jumped one yesterday, sort of, a little grey mare named Bella who they are thinking of bringing in as a lesson horse.

The best part? The place. Sarah is unbelievably nice. Her horses are very well taken care of and obviously on the fancy side. Her clients are welcoming and chatty. The stable is clean and well organized. You have everything you need, from a wall of bits to a tidy tack cleaning station to a well provisioned groom stall. Too good to be true? Perhaps, but I don't think so. I'm not getting that vibe at all. 

So here I am again. In the saddle. Running and riding and RIDING in Morgan Hill. 

Whoever wans to say I Told You So, now is the chance to do it...

More is less is more

First off, if you Ashley Powell are reading this, you might want to stop. You will most likely start banging your head against the nearest wall.

If you are not Ashley Powell, read away!

Yesterday on the lunch ride, I was tired. I mean lead legged tired. I mean I stood up on those pedals to start to get some more power and had nothing. By nothing I mean it almost felt like my legs weren't even attached to my body.

Was I confused as to why? Not in the least. It was because on Friday I rode 60 miles with 2700 ft of climbing (one Cat 2 climb, was going to be more but we turned in early), on Thursday I rode 35 miles with some decent hills, and Sunday I ran 8.5 miles.

Monday was off.

But Tuesday I had no legs attached to my body.

Hence the More is Less. I am doing more running, more cycling in terms of climbing and being consistently epic. I am getting less stellar performances.

At the same time, though, I'm having more fun than I've had in a long long time. I remember during my training, while I was in top shape, I had to forgo the long epic weekend rides, the huge climbing escapades. And I skipped them gladly, because at the time, training was more important to me, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

Now, I do not need to train, do not even want to train, I am just having fun. It is fun to run for 8.5 miles. It is fun to cram as much into a weekend as I possibly can. It is even fun commuting to work. Everything is a novelty to me here. And even if my legs are dead on the lunch ride, I'm able to do Cat 2 climbs without ever going into my red zone. Ok, so I go 4 mph and am definitely on the dark orange line...but red? Wanting to die and feeling like I'm going to explode? Nope. Only a month ago no matter how slow I went, eventually I tipped into DANGER DANGER DANGER. So there is SOME sort of benefit being reaped.

The good thing is that it's the wintertime, and even though there is no "off" season out here, this is the time to fool around if there is one. And who knows, maybe if I just keep at it my legs will get used to both riding and running. I'm never going to run to be fast or run hard. I barely eeek out a 10 minute mile and my heartrate stays safely in the greenish orange zone (I mean, come on, I am RUNNING).

Bottom line? I really like to run. And I'm going to do it because I like to do it.

I am enforcing a strict 3 days on ONE DAY OFF rule, though. I am also going to slowly up my runs and make sure I don't do 2 hard things back to back. I am not 100% reverting to my old stupid ways.

Just, like, 65%

More stuff = less performance but also = more fun.

That's an equation I can understand any day.