Offn....

Today, I had a surge of joy. I felt my body exert itself enough to be engaged without being torn up. I felt my breathing increase enough to feel invigorated without being labored. I felt my muscles engage but not tear. I found a rhythm, a flow, a sense of simultaneous ease and energy.

And I was wearing sneakers.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am once again running.

While here in Morgan Hill, I saw so many of my killer cyclist friends do both, and do both with relative aplomb, that I felt like the times for excuses were over. I wanted to be able to throw on my trainers and GO. Not go hard, or terribly long, but hard enough to feel like I did something and long enough to warrant lacing up in the first place.

I started off slowly. 15 minutes once a week, then twice a week.

Then 20 minutes. 25 minutes. Three times a week.

Then I donned my idiot cap.

25 minutes in the morning, 20 more later in the day. Twice a week.

Then 45 minutes. All at once. Then three days later, 55 minutes.

Two days later, another 55.

Today, 25 minutes this morning on a set 2.5 mile course.

And 45 minutes this afternoon on the treadmill at 6mph.

Which means, seven miles total.

Seven.

Why am I writing this with so many line jumps? Well, because this is a big deal, and big deal posts deserve a whole lotta line jumps. I kept trying to run, and failed to find my footing, so many times that I lost track of why I loved running in the first place.

Well call me Sherlock Holmes, cause guess what I found?

Today, on the treadmill, listening to my iPod, I almost laughed out loud (thank god I didn’t, awkward work moment).

There’s something about engaging every muscle in your body, propelling yourself forward with only your own two feet, that’s completely its own unique joy. And yes, I did use the word joy. It’s a joyous thing, being able to run, being in good enough shape to have running be an easy thing should you choose to do so.

So while running still definitely takes a back seat to cycling, at least it has a seat again.

The Art of Climbing

In case you haven't noticed it, there has been a definite theme to my blog since moving out West. Please allow me a brief moment to shine a huge white spotlight onto said theme:

Climbing

Climbing stands as road cycling's largest appeal. It carries major bragging rights. 80% of the time, it necessitates anything epic. It hurts like a mother **cker. It makes you feel like a beast. It allows you to descend. Like ham and cheese, peanut butter and jelly, SRAM and noisy shifts, climbing is an inseparable part of the sport.

It is also one of the hardest parts of the sport.

In Greensboro, though there were climbing opportunities, I had other concerns and goals on the bike. Thus, my technique lacked tremendously when it came to going uphill. I never stood, both because I felt uncomfortable and because I didn't really grasp why it was necessary. I had little clue about gearing, or when/why to shift. I had the wrong ideas about both spinning and carrying my momentum.

Over the past month, I've had the opportunity to go up much more often. I've also had the chance to watch a lot of people ride who are fantastic at ascending (and descending).

I've also had the wake up call, twice now, that I am sooo much better at it after only a month.

Wake Up Call #1) My visit back to Greensboro last weekend.

While I was there, my awesome friend Jen let me borrow her bike so I could go on a little ride. Suddenly, the hills on Yanceyville and Dogget and Church, well, they weren't really hills anymore. They were more like speedbumps. I found myself instinctively standing when I NEEDED to, when it made SENSE. I also found myself choosing much better gearing, and shifting much more intuitively. Plus, my muscles were just better at it. Even the once "super steep" hill on Church before Air Harbor. I carried my momentum from the previous downhill, and just went right up. I arrived at the top barely winded.

Case in Point #2) Levi's King Ridge Gran Fondo

That ride was sick. While there were local NC rides that match it in terms of climbing (Tour de Gaps, for example), there isn't really a ride that matches it in terms of difficulty. Tour de Gaps is straight up, straight down, ride flat until you get to the next gap, then straight up again. You know exactly how far you're going to be climbing when you start, and once you get to the bottom again, there are no more surprise ups. Steep surprise ups. Had I not been so much better at climbing, there is no way I could have done this ride. I knew when AND how to stand so that your body weight does the work instead of your legs. I knew when to sit and spin it out. I knew when to shift, both before, while, and after standing, to keep my HR in check. I knew when to slide my butt back on the saddle and use my hamstrings and ass to save the day.

And I knew these things because, guess what? I'm becoming a better climber.

That being said, there is always room for improvement, and I'm not nearly as good of a climber as I hope to one day be.

But I also understand in a more nuanced way why it's such an important part of the sport. It's not just about the physical exertion of getting up the hill, it's also about how you get there. Better climbers do it with more grace and ease. They don't wander all over the road or grip the hoods while turning their lunch inside out, or try to do more than they know they can handle at any one stretch. They just go up. Effortlessly.

Which one could say is a metaphor for life.

Don't worry, I won't go into THAT one (yet). But it highlights yet ANOTHER reason why I love this sport so much: because it mirrors so many larger lessons.

Going up, for me in all senses, is still a lesson being learned.

Levi's Gran Fondo

So as you are well aware, these sort of diary A, B, C posts aren't my most favorite thing; however, the event in which I was just lucky enough to participate in can be done no other way:

Levi's King Ridge Gran Fondo.

Before we go any further, I must say that I had zero idea what I was getting myself into. To me, Gran Fondo just meant Long Ride. And a long ride I could do no problem. Climbing? Sure why not, throw in some climbs also. What the hey?

What the hey indeed.

The day began in the dark. Specialized had a whole posse going up, but some of us were heading out from Morgan Hill morning of. I was in that group, in addition to being the driving ring leader. At 4:15, we assembled in the parking lot and began loading up one of the awesome SBCU minivans (Thanks, SBCU!!) with bikes and gear.

Crappy flash courtesy of iPhone.

This early departure was really only possible because we were lucky enough to snag a VIP parking pass, which put us literally right next to packet pick up and registration (for which we were also in the VIP line). The Finley Center in Santa Rosa found itself completely overrun with spandex and carbon fiber. Once we collected the needed materials (front bike tag, back bike tag, bib number, and swag), the gearing up began.

I rolled to the start, knowing that I had a front staging sticker, but not knowing that front staging sticker would literally place me AT THE FRONT OF 7500 CYCLISTS.

And next to Patrick Dempsey.

The picture on the left was taken by a professional photographer in a lift. If you look closely, you can Where's Waldo me literally at he very front in the black jersey with the Red S on it.

Once we got rolling, the ride itself? It's hard to describe...

What I can say is that it was HARD. The hardest thing I've ever done to date, literally, no doubt about it. What I can also say is that the riding I've been doing the past month was completely critical to my success. I didn't even know it, but I was slowly training for this ride. I did area climbs one by one each weekend. This ride put them all together and then some.

Up, down, up up up up, DOWN, up again. Then DOOOOOWN, down down, UPUPUPPPPUUUP.

That was pretty much the entire ride.

While the weather held (for about the first 34 miles), I was able to stop and snap some amazing pictures:

Ok, one amazing picture.

Why not more?

Well, first of all, it turned foggy and drizzly and chilly and just downright miserable. I was SO glad I had my armwarmers, because I definitely put them back on. Second of all, it turned into the sort of ride where if you stopped for very long, getting started again felt like agony.

The thing though, was that all 7500 people were suffering together. At each rest stop, you knew that the throng surrounding you were all just as tired, chilly, achy, and happily miserable as you were. You also knew they everyone was thinking the same thing:

Oh holy hell, you have GOT to be kidding me.

After each rest stop, I had to take a full water bottle to rinse off my cleats and pedals before I could clip back in and resume the march towards the finish.

Yes, that sort of ride.

The descents were all rippingly fast if desired. For my part, I played it safe, though I still thought that for someone who's only really been descending for a month I did rather well. The roads were just slick and wet enough that one beginners mistake or panicky brake grab or washed out tire or misjudged line could have had dire consequences, and more than one person had to be helicoptered out of the event for just that reason.

The scenery? Ungodly gorgeous, especially on Route 1 along the coast. Sure, there was a brutal headwind on that section, but when you glanced over and saw the Ocean and the sun and the clouds, it was all worth it.

Twice I had to stop in the middle of climbs and let me HR back off a bit, but I didn't have to walk any sections, and in the end I was proud of how I rode. I didn't push myself ANYWHERE I didn't have to, because I knew that there would be enough uphill to push me enough as it was.

And remember what I said earlier? Oh Holy Hell?

Oh Holy Hell:

http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/52781546

Cut and paste. Click on "Climbs."

Yes indeed.

Oh, and do not listen when it says it was only 6400 feet. It was 9500 feet at least.

There were some grades so steep people were literally tipping over.

But. I did it. I finished it, and I SMACKED DOWN the food afterwards at the VIP tent. It didn't stand a CHANCE.

The best part of the day, though, if I had to pick the best part, was getting to spend time outside of the office with my Specialized crew. While it's true that I work with some of the coolest people imaginable, it's even cooler that we regularly CHOOSE to spend our free time together outside of work. Because to us, riding bikes, and anything to do with bikes, isn't really "work." It's a job, yes, but it's not work. We joked, rode, caravaned, talked, ate, and just generally had an amazing time at an amazing event.

And we never took it for granted, which is probably the coolest part.

The day also saw the true Maiden Voyage of my NEW Gold Bike: Ruby

She still has some kinks to work out of her. The saddle of course has got to be swapped out, and the left shifter has a warranty problem (thanks Shimano). Other than that? Perfect.

PLUS, my fit is so dialed now that I rode 103 miles and 9500 feet of elevation on a bike that was only built up 4 days prior, and I came away with ZERO pain.

Well...there was pain, but none of it had to do with my fit.

And that's about it. Next up.....