Relativity

California has a reputation for cranking out phenomenal cyclists, which is one of the main reasons I was so eager to move out here. It's true of course that strong cyclists are everywhere, and Greensboro had its fair share of crushers, most of whom I could only hang with for brief, glorious, painful periods of time. So while I came here knowing the folk tales of fantastic cycling, I didn't know what the reality would be like.

I also only have Greensboro to compare everything to. My definitions of "hill", "roller", "climb", "headwind", even "fast" are going to have to change to Morgan Hill conditions.

Because everything is relative.

Example?

Here are the stats from 2 rides, the first I did back in GSO, the second I did today:

Time:	01:30:38
Distance:	26.23 mi
Elevation Gain:	1,419 ft
Avg HR: 143 bpm Max HR: 169 bpm	Avg Moving Speed: 17.4 mph

_______________________________

Time:	01:38:05
Distance:	26.65 mi
Elevation Gain:	1,388 ft
Avg HR:	156 bpm
Max HR:	183 bpm

Avg Moving Speed:

16.4 mph

___________________

So. Take a look. First ride and second ride. Both have about the same amount of time, the same amount of elevation gain. But wow, look at the heartrates! The first ride was high endurance, just dipping once into AT land. The second was flat out red lining, and more of a tempo average. Both rides were ridden with guys who were stronger than me but riding at my pace.

The first ride was an out and back on Witty road, which most of you guys know has a lot of "hills" on it. The second ride was a variation on one of the normal Lunch Ride loops, with an extra bit of climbing thrown in (hence the red line).

So what is the difference?

Where Greensboro had lots of little ups and downs, none of them were very steep. They were just consistent. Never really long enough to spike up your HR unless you wanted them to, and always quickly dispensed with in time for a nice easy straight recovery downhill. When it was flat, like 150, there was rarely a strong wind. I went onto ridewithgps.com, and the average grade of those roads was around 3-4%, sometimes spiking into the 6% (like coming home on Lake Brandt), but not going uphill for super long periods of time.

Here, things are different. Sure, same total elevation gain, but at an average of 6-8% on most roads that go up, and usually around 9%. Switchbacks, definite out of saddle stuff. Today's ride had a maximum grade of 13.5%.

To put it another way, the road that broke me during the Blue Ridge Brutal was about 8 miles long, and had a maximum grade of 13.4%, and was more than 10% for the last .5 mile.

Here, we have a road that is 10.2 miles long and has a maximum grade of 15.6%, and spikes above 10% for a good deal of it as well.

I had to drive 2.5 hours to find the Blue Ridge Brutal road. I have to step outside my door to find the latter.

And that's just one of many. Not all of them as long (though many are), or steep (though many are), but everywhere you look.

If it's not a hill, it's a headwind, strong and consistent enough to bend the trees as they grow.

If you think this entry is ending as a sob story, though, you would be completely wrong. I'm not only eager, I'm thrilled to be tackling this sort of terrain as my everyday norm. The descents are technical most of the time and the ascents are grueling most of the time. But that's just for now. My riding relative to the area, and relative to my experiences.

One year from now, everything will be different. The new will turn to normal. These long, uphill roads will be the ho hum. And even if I'm not faster, I know I will be stronger because of it.

Cross Country Epic - Days 4 & 5: A Ride with A View

One of the best parts about driving across the country, or actually, THE best part of driving across the country, is witnessing the changing scenery around you. It can surprise you, depress you, elate you, and a host of things in between. You start off in the Piedmont of Virginia amid the Blue Ridge Mountains, and are surrounded by familiar sights. Comfort scenery. Not much changes in Tennessee except for a little less mountain and a little less green.

Suddenly, you are in Arkansas. The air outside is a wet blanket and the scenery is this:

Then you enter Oklahoma and Texas, the flatlands, which certainly start to tire the eyes eventually but also offer up something completely foreign. Windfarms, stockyards, lots and lots of yellow, and old abandoned buildings just begging for stories:

Then, you head into New Mexico: Land of Enchantment. It's not a joke when I say that you round a corner and find yourself staring at a 180 of panorama.

The best part by far, though, has been the ability to experience this transition from my bike. Though the rides haven't always been fun (ahem, North Little Rock), they have been a change from the normal routine.

Yesterday, I had a fantastic Albuquerque route planned that consisted of an "out" on a bike trail by a river, then cut across town, then "back" on another bike path by another river, then a detour through Old Town, before heading back to the parking lot. The glitch? My garmin had its mind blown by the bike path, and thus, we wound up just staying on the same stretch of path the whole way, and coming straight back. The other glitch? The "river" was actually a huge empty cement drainage ditch.

Did it matter? Not really. Though our immediate view was of industrial buildings and razor wire, in the distance we were treated to the following:

Today, I was REALLY excited to be riding through Petrified Wood National Park. Not only was I going to get to see PETRIFIED WOOD, but the park was PERFECT for exploration by bike. Park at the Historic Rainbow Inn, and follow the one road that had look out spots along the way. There are too too many gorgeous shots to try to fit (it's the sort of place where you close your eyes and point your camera and you look like the next Ansel Adams), but here are some of my favs:

But lest you think I left out the best part. au contraire.

I give you, petrified wood.

If you ever go to this park, the BEST way to do it IMHO is on bike. Here is a picture of us heading out triumphant with a tailwind and a continuous downhill.

The worst way to do it, on a bike, IMHO, is the way we did it: downhill going out, uphill coming back, and only 2 water bottles. Here is a less triumphant picture of the ride back.

The first part is a no brainer. If I had to do it over again, I would have driven all the way to the end of the park, changed at the Petrified Wood Center, and headed out from there.

The second part. Ah yes. Well, you see, I blithely assumed that at a National Park, with bathrooms, in the middle of the desert, there would be opportunities to get some water. Unfortunately, as soon as Tom and I saw the compost bathroom and the locked spigot outside of them, we knew otherwise. Also unfortunately at this point, we still had about 12 uphill exposed uphill desert miles to go before reaching the car.

These are small quibbles to what was otherwise a fantastically gorgeous and amazing experience, though.

The long and the short of it? Seeing the country by car is a great experience, but the bike is definitely the cherry, chocolate sauce, AND whipped cream on top.

Cross Country Epic - Day 3: The Day the Diet Died

About two months ago, I stepped on the scale at my mom's house, a real life doctor's office scale that uses weights and scientific stuff which actually tells you your real weight. And while it wasn't horrible, I definitely decided I could stand to lose a few pounds of it and still keep my muscle and stay healthy.

So after talking to my coach to make sure I wasn't going to be doing anything stupid, I made several small changes to my daily routine designed to take about a pound or two off a week. And upon my return to Richmond 2 weeks and then 4 weeks later, I was delighted to see that it was working just as planned.

There are some breathing rules, though, such as special dinners with friends, special occasions, and special parties, where you're allowed to eat whatever you want (within sane reason).

But what happens when all of a sudden you are hauling your butt clear across the country? Suddenly most nights become eating out with friends, parties, or special occasions.

The Blue Ridge Brutal signaled the first wounds of the diet, because, come on, you pedal 100 miles up lots of hills for the first time in your life, you get hungry. Ridiculously hungry. The following nights (Sunday = gbye dinner with friends, Tuesday = another gbye dinner with friends, Friday = Gbye dinner with family) were also not very kind.

But tonight, well, tonight I think my diet finally gave up the ghost for a while.

Because tonight, I ate at The Big Texan.

Now, look closely at that big bull. Do you see what it says? The FREE 72oz steak dinner?

Yes.

This dinner, featured on Food Networks Man v. Food, consists of a 72oz steak, 2 dinner rolls, a side salad, and a baked potato. All must be consumed under 1 hour (and stay down) for the dinner to be free. Otherwise, it'll cost ya. Before saying it's impossible, not only has it been done, a LOT, but once a professional wrestler named Klondike Bill at TWO OF THEM. And lived. But probably had a very very rough night.

I did not have that dinner.

I did have my diet pepsi in a boot.

And lest you think the adventure ended there along with my diet... AU CONTRAIRE!!

I present to you: Mountain Oysters

If you don't know what they are, go ahead and google it now. How did they taste? Fried. But good. Anything fried is good, but these were tasty in their own right as well. It's been a long time since I've eaten a completely new food, and so getting to partake whilst on a once in a lifetime trip made it superbly appropriate.

The dinner itself, for me, consisted of a rare 6oz steak of some sort (don't ask me what, but it was gooood), cooked onsite and out in the open in the pit.

Along side it was a side salad, a baked potato (not loaded, but still good), and some baked beans that I ultimately tasted but rejected. Busch has forever warped my tastebuds to think that baked beans need brown sugar, and these were more chili based.

To give you a little bit more sense of the ambience, it was a place with many dead animals on the wall.

All in all, a super fun time was had. There was also a large quantity of foreign exchange students who were going cross country there for the real "Texas Experience." They were having a great time, and the musicians were punching up their performances in appreciation of the amassed enthusiasm, so I think I can use the phrase "good night" to describe when we went.

My diet was saved from dessert, all of which looked gargantuan. Including a "94 grams of fat" slice of carrot cake.

It was not saved from the homemade fudge. The Praline, Salty Nut, Chocolate, Butterfinger, and Cookie Dough fudge. Enough fudge to last a normal person for a month. Me? Maybe a week.

Maybe.

But Tom saved me from the fudge when I insisted he take it into his room with him. Which is the only reason I'm not gorging on it right this second as I write this post.

So. Yeah. That diet? Ummm... hmmm... Well, there's always time in my life for a new diet once things settle down. Sometimes there are more important things than dieting.

Like windmill farms!

And Dirt Devils!

And basically, just letting go and living a little. I'm sure the diet will be waiting for me in Morgan Hill, none the worse for wear.

Cross Country Epic - Days 1 and 2

So Saturday, it began. "It" being my epic cross country drive out to Morgan Hill, CA to start my new life. Along for the ride is Tom Arsenault, an old skool Greensboro rider/racer (ex Pro/1/2 monster). Other characters include 2 bikes and 1 fully loaded Toyota Matrix.

Early in the AM on the 20th I awoke rarin' to go, and after a bittersweet goodbye with the family, I went over to Tom's house to load up his Pinarello and suitcase(s).

And we were off!!

And then we turned around because I missed the exit on the beltway for 66 West.

And then we were off!!

And off we were. First stop: Fincastle, VA for what was supposed to be a lovely little 33 mile ride to Buchanan, VA and back. As we pulled off the interstate onto VA-630 to enter the town, I knew it was going to be sweet. The scenery? Gorgeous. The road? Smooth and wide, maybe not with a shoulder but zero traffic and at least a good 3 feet of space before the treeline on either side.

We pulled into the only gas station to change, and was greeted by an extremely polite and amicable clerk, who was completely non plussed by our cycling getup. All she said was, "So where are y'all headed today?"

"Buchanan." (pronounced as in Pat Buchanan)

"Buck-anan, honey, that's Buck-anan." Huge smile.

Awesome.

The ride itself started with lovely vistas of Fincastle, VA:

To say that it was picturesque would be an understatement. The bonus? I felt like we had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. When you randomly pick a route and pull off in the middle of Virginia Ruralness, the chances of choosing someplace quaint are slim to none. But what started as good luck turned into the jackpot as we started the ride.

We rode along extremely smooth and well kept pavement, seeing LONG HORNS (wth??), 3 different sets of deer, and the following gorgeous scenery:

After what seemed liked an endless, long, rambling downhill stretch we arrived at the town of Buck-anan. And guess what? It was just as lovely as Fincastle.

But the true magic was the ride back. A little road that ran along a railroad track, just wide enough to hug, nice and open, and pavement as smooth as a baby's butt could be if it were made out of pavement. After a while, I mentioned to Tom that I was waiting for the other shoe to fall, that eventually we would have to start going uphill to make up for the start.

He pointed to a small creek along the road. With the water flowing TOWARDS us.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, though long thought to be a legend, I have found a route that is "downhill" both ways. Thoughwe were in fact traveling upwards, the gradient was so slight as to feel completely non existent. And it remained thus for 95% of the ride back to the Fincastle Courthouse.

It was like a road made by elves. Good elves who loved cyclists. Here is a bit of what we were treated to along that magical road:

But, alas, all good things must come to an end. Eventually we arrived back at the courthouse, changed, and continued onwards. After a delicious Subway dinner, we pulled into the Hotel in the town known as Knoxville, TN, and planned the next day. Tom needed some new tires in a bad way, so we decided to stop at a shop in Nashville that opened at noon, pick up a pair, head over a few miles, and hit a route that was in the book Rides of Mid Tennessee. What could be a better plan than that?

Tom (as we're driving along I-40, having perfectly left our timing to arrive at the shop precicely when it opened): Umm, Sophie? It's an hour earlier.

Me: It's what?

Tom: It's an hour earlier. We crossed the timezone line.

Me: So....

Tom: So that means we're going to arrive about 1.5 hours before the shop opens.

Me: ...Oh...

Cue wheels turning in our heads.

After a bit of devicing (yay for Smartphones!) we found a shop in Little Rock that was also open on Sundays, and decided to press on straight there, get the tires, go to the hotel, change, and then go for a lovely ride in the picturesque Arkansas countryside!

Yay!

So we drove.

and drove and drove. And drove.

And when we finally arrived at the bike shop, bought the tires, and went to the hotel, the only picturesque thing I had seen was this lovely larger than life Indian Head:

Things didn't get much better. I tried and tried to find a route with ridewithgps.com, but only found things that started miles away (we were DONE driving) or were on scary roads. Our choices were an out and back road ride with what looked like a few hills, or a ride along the bikepath by the river, which was again, a bit of a drive away.

Tom and I both agreed that we didn't really like bike paths; they are difficult to ride on road bikes when there are lots of pedestrians/children/dogs/comfort hybrids around, and neither of us knew the path at all. So we set out to do the out and back by the air force base.

Notice that there are no pictures of that ride.

Because it was gross. My legs were horribly dead, the humidity was 94%, and the "hills" were 12+% zits in pothole filled roads of Northern Little Rock. I, me, lover of all things bike, raised the white flag 2.5 miles before the mandated turn around point, after coming to the top of a particularly "lovely" rise and seeing a CAUTION TRUCKS! 12% GRADE sign on the descent.

Not going to go back up that one.

So we zoomed back down, back to the parking lot, and I swung my leg off of what was perhaps my hardest 1 hour bike ride ever.

After more Subway, some True Blood, and some Peanut M&Ms, I finally sat down to write what you have just read.

Tomorrow is a non bike day, but a huge driving day: Little Rock to Amarillo, TX.

Stay tuned!!

Masochism + Bikes = Awesome

In the world of wannabe cycling, there are certain activities that center around pain and suffering, usually of the going up type. These rides proudly proclaim their main aim: to inflict bodily harm on those participating. They have names like Blood, Sweat, and Gears; 3 Mountain Madness; etc.

Yesterday, I participated in the first ever of these events: The Blue Ridge Brutal:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/106255538

Was it painful? Yes. Did I cry? No (but I almost did). Did I swear? Quite profusely. Did I have to make up mind games to get over the next hill that went on endlessly upwards before me? Of course.

But did I learn? Hells yes.

1) It's not so much the length of the climb as the gradient of the climb. For me, I can spin up something fairly steep forever, and was doing a good job of it too. I thought to myself, "I love climbing rides! This is easy!" as I happily rotated my legs at 80 rpms, my heart rate resting comfortable at 160. Lalala! Then, suddenly, the RPM went down to 75, then 70. Then I discovered I had no more grannie gears (someone needs to invent great grannie gears...oh wait...they did #SRAM Apex). Then I looked up (btw, NEVER look up) and saw that the road kept pitching severely upwards, and that it never ended. Suddenly it was all I could do to mash out 50 rpms, and the HR went up accordingly. It was the increased steepness that made me want to die.

2) It's amazing how quickly you can go from OK to Not OK. I mean, in a matter of feet (see #1) you can transition from Just Fine to Wow, SO Not Fine. And all it may take is a teeny little change in gradient, or a slight uptick in pace from the group. I've known this principal for a while, but it really hit home during this ride.

3) Cycling shows you both your strength and your weakness, and both parts are equally awesome. It's amazing that a sport can take you literally to the point of losing your shit entirely. Because it is in the suffering that we really discover things about ourselves, what sort of people we really are, not in the easy moments, the great rides. Can you get through it? Can you overcome? Can you get back to the car and smile about the day rather than think "oh god, I will NEVER do that again." How do you deal? Cycling teaches you how to deal.

4) Ride your own ride. Do not ride the ride you think you have to ride, or the ride everyone else is riding. Know yourself, know your limits, know your strengths, make a plan, and ride accordingly. Do not confuse this statement to mean "never go out and push yourself." No way. Push yourself. But don't push yourself because you think everyone else expects you to. Push yourself because it's your own damn ride and you want to.

4cont) For me? I wanted to be able to look around and see the scenery, I had never ridden on the parkway before and may not again for a long long time. I wanted to have gas in the tank at the end. I wanted to be able to walk the next day because I still had a lot of stuff to do. So I rode my own ride, I let people bomb past me on the descents and I let myself spin past them on the ascents. I even let people wheeze past me on some climbs, as I breathed nice and easy next to them. The whole concept of the ride was hard for me, so I knew I couldn't go out and "ride hard" on my first "hard ride" attempt. And know what? It worked perfectly.

And that's that. I'm excited to see what sort of pain California has in store for me. :)

I'd Like to Thank...

I've tried to write this blog in a lot of different ways, and it kept getting too complicated and drawn out. So I've decided to try this angle. The angle of an acceptance speech.

The award?

A job at Specialized Bicycle Components.

The reason for the format?

Well, because Greensboro, and more accurately the people in Greensboro, have given me so so much. And I want to take a moment to thank them all properly for what they've given me in my life.

First off, Dale Brown, owner of Cycles de Oro. Dale took a chance on me, a big chance, at a time where I needed a bit of luck most of all. I had just lost my funding for Grad School and didn't know where to turn or what I was going to do for a full time job. Dale took someone who knew little about bikes, but had a large desire to learn, and put her to the test. He also gave me the opportunity to make a real impact in the cycling community of Greensboro. He helped me assemble my bikes (my many bikes...) and didn't bat an eye when I exchanged one for yet another. I was able to go to Interbike and get a taste of how awesome the cycling industry was. I was able to go to the NAHBS and see learn about amazing craftsmanship. And ultimately, it was Dale who helped me take the next step in my career with nothing but support and enthusiasm. I will never be able to fully repay him, and will always remember my time at De Oro as some of the happiest moments of my life.

Second off, Watts Dixon, owner of Revolution Cycles. Watts sold me my first bike, Vincent, who I loved dearly and who put up with all of my mistakes, crashes, and general incompetence. Watts helped me to find the right bike, and got me started on the right path. I'll never forget his easy going style and his patience at my many vacillations.

Third off, my coach, Ashley Powell. For the first time in my life, I consider myself a real athlete. Ashley took me from yet ANOTHER injury born from stupidity to more than a year completely injury free. He never pressured me to race, but somehow I think he knew that I would want to give it a shot. And even though my results are...how to say....less than impressive, he never fails to put things in perspective, find and praise the positives, and constructively plan how to improve on the negatives. He never hesitates to join in a group ride, and welcomes questions day or night. I'm the strongest I've ever been in my life, in any context. I consider myself amazingly lucky to have him as my coach, and am super excited to continue to work with him from three time zones over.

Fourth off, I want to thank all of the staff I've been privileged to work with at Cycles de Oro. Ben, Kyle, Steve, Charles, Zack I, Zach M, Louis, Robert, Jeremy, Jessica, Sarah, and Eric. PHEW! A lot of names, but a lot of fantastic people who were patient with my stupid questions, taught me the important differences between a rear gorilla and a hang down, explained the finer intricacies of Shimoomoo, and generally put up with me. I always went into work looking forward to my day, and always knew that there was some sort of adventure waiting for me.

Fifth off, I have to thank all of the amazing people I've met and ridden with in Greensboro. I won't be able to mention them all, but you know who you are. If it hadn't been for your support, your patience, your encouragement, and your shared love of bikes and what they can do, I never would have fallen in love with the sport as completely as I have. You have shaped the cyclist I am, and have set a high high standard for me to live up to on the West Coast.

And the West Coast is where I am now headed. For a third time, this blog will have to change its name. No longer will I be Riding in GSO; I'll be Riding in..MH? SJ? Central Cali? I've yet to figure that part out. But regardless, it will be a long ways away from my cycling roots.

I'll never forget Greensboro. I'll try to come back and visit (and ride!) as much as I possibly can. I will, of course, continue to blog.

I am excited, though. Excited to ride new roads, maybe FINALLY get that mountain bike, meet new friends and get dropped by new crushers I have no business trying to ride with (which will probably happen on my first day at work).

Goodbye, Greensboro.

Hello....