Everything in Moderation, Including Moderation

My friend J told me a couple of weeks ago that he was eating a "mostly vegan" diet. On Saturday, we went to a party together where there was a spread of BBQ fare. He piled his plate with salad, moved down and grabbed a giant piece of grilled chicken, and added a cupcake at the end. We went outside and drank our beers and ate our yummy lunches, and then he said, "I think I'm going back for round two." He came back out with a sandwich covered with roast beast and some sort of sauces and whatnot. I said, "How's that veganism working out for you?"
"Everything in moderation," he said.

My contribution to moderation this weekend was a fantastic homemade pizza: whole wheat crust, chunks of tomato and sauce, zucchini, squash, caramelized onion, grilled mushrooms, crumbled goat cheese, and some mozzarella. Yum.

Motorcycle Madness

Today's ride started off in Winters, home of the 2008 Vernal Equinox Ride -- hundreds of motorcycle riders cruising up and down the same roads that we struggled up and down, and then when we returned to Winters, they were all there. It was great. And mostly, they were considerate and courteous on the difficult-to-navigate mountain roads.



The ride was hard, but compared to last week's ride it Napa, it went fairly quickly. Three big hills and some smaller ones. Plus, we had a rest stop that one of our crew members provided. A welcome sight after coming down off the fabled "Cardiac Hill." The first 22 miles I rode with a small group of folks who are all strong cyclists, and all having a good time. Like last week, the best part of the ride was that we covered the same roads on parts of the AIDS ride last year, so there were some good memories, and a great comparison. I think I'm stronger this year than I was, at least on Day One, last year.
But after that, I wasn't really feeling like riding with the group was in my plan for the day. So I stopped at the rest stop, gave some high five's to the folks coming in, and headed back on my own. It was a cold ride, and I had no one to block the wind, but I found my groove and made my way back up the hills. And down again.
I hit 39 mph at one point, which is a little faster than I'm comfortable with, but this week has been good for pushing past my comfort zones.

This time of year is always frustrating -- aside from the sneezing -- it's gorgeous and sunny and tempting outside, so I take the bait and go out, and it's cold. Only a little bit longer and the temps will be up, and the wind will die down, and the promise of a gorgeous warm day, will deliver.

Next weekend we're back off to Folsom for another ride in the foothills.

Excuses, excuses

My friend J who took me to the time trial told me the best way to prepare was to get my excuses all lined up in advance.
1) It was my first time;
2) There was a heck of a headwind.
I have more, but that seems like a good start.

Overall though, it was a great time. We rode from J's house to the starting point -- which was about 9 miles into a headwind. I showed up a few minutes late, so it was a hard fast ride into a headwind. J kept saying, "we're almost there." Every time we turned, "we're almost there" or "about 5 more minutes."


When we got there, I was surrounded by a gaggle of spandex-clad elite cyclists. It was like being in a foreign country. Folks seemed nice though, and the thing about a time trial, especially for an amateur rider who is focusing on nothing but keep the adrenaline surge from knocking her over, is that it's not competitive. I was just out there to go as fast as I could, not to go as fast as the woman J called "HurriJane" whose sponsorship contract requires that she race (a lot).

We each got our numbers, and they called us out at 30 second intervals. When my number was called, I was trying to remember that J told me to take it easy at first -- that was surprisingly easy to do because the wind wasn't really letting me pick up a lot of speed. Whenever I wanted to stop, I remember the other tip, "Just keep moving." I figured pedaling was better than not pedaling, so I pedaled. After a hard five miles pushing against the wind, a god-send of a woman appeared ahead of me telling me to turn around. The promise of a headwind is a tailwind on the way back. I added probably 7 mph on the way back, and it went fairly quickly, if painfully.

That was a dang hard ten miles. I surprised myself though -- just by going out there. Around mile 7.5, I hit that euphoric phase where I had to laugh out loud, and couldn't wait to do it again.

It didn't last long.

Sneak Preview

Here's a little recap of last weekend's ride, and a preview of what's to come:

We had another big turnout to our weekend training ride this past Saturday. Almost 2 dozen cyclists, and even a few crew members!, showed up in Yountville early on Saturday morning to get in a hilly 50-mile training ride. This weekend's ride will be just about as hilly, but much closer to home. It starts in Winters and will include both sides of the fabled Cardiac Hill as well as some other, smaller hills. The fastest cyclists will also tackle some of the climb up Steele Canyon.

Sounds like it's going to be quite a day!

And tomorrow - a friend invited me to do a time-trial in the evening. Here's the invite:
"You just roll up a little before 6pm to warm up and get a start number, and then wait until your number is called. At 6pm Rider #1 starts and then you go in order every 30 seconds. Go ovaries out for 5 flat miles, turn around at the turn around point (marked by a person with a flag), and then go ovaries out 5 miles back to the start. Then ride home with me as we swap stories about how painful that felt and how we can't wait to come back and do it again."

Sounds fun, huh? Ha!

Hopefully I'll get to the chiropractor sometime this week and address that tweak I've developed in my back. Last year I didn't have much trouble with my poor little back, but I don't think I was biking as much for training.

A little whine with the wine

Great ride this weekend in the gorgeous Napa Valley -- 53 miles with "one" hill. We all know what that means. I counted at least 4. Then there's the "rolling hills" -- which are not made any less flat when you put a fun word like "roll" in front of them. [But it's nothing compared to what's coming this weekend!]

After an early morning start, with a gorgeous view:


a group of us met in a little Napa town called Yountville, with its lovely views, and quaint little streets, all the better for getting lost on. It was nice, sunny day and about 20 of us started off down the road, led by our fearless leader.


We couldn't have asked for better weather (nor would we have asked for more hills). The best part to me was that we rode parts of last years ride that we passed through on Days 1 and 2. It was nice to be there again -- along the creeks and vineyards and with good friends.


Nine percent doesn't sound like all that much to me. Out of a hundred percents, it's only nine of them. You know when you're driving along some windy highway and you see a sign that says, "9% grade: trucks use low gear"? They say that because 9% is really steep. I know because that's the kind of hill we climbed. But not before we had about 12 miles of lots of uphill -- a steady climb out of the Napa Valey into the hills. 12.53 miles of that. Then a quick stop to get some blacksmithing and wagon-making in Pope Valley.

Actually we stopped for water and some snacks at a little store in Pope Valley, then head out on the road for the Big Hill. 9% Grade, and a promised 3.77 miles. I calculated that when my odometer hit 29.84 miles, I would be at the top of the hill. Imagine my surprise when 29.84 came and went. I thought about stopping at that point and giving up. Lots of people walk up hills. But I decided that all the messages that were playing in my head were not going to get me up any faster. So I focused on my good strong legs, and making the odometer move, and I just kept going. And finally, the hill ended, I turned right, and guess what? More hills! No more 9%-ers though. When we finally got to the top of the long series of hills, it was time to go back down. I think I topped out at 37 mph. Probably would have gone a bit faster -- it actually felt a little safer than some of the down hills I've been on -- but I was worried about missing a turn, and having to climb back up that hill I was screaming down.

After the ride, a few of us went into Yountville (someone said it sounds like a Dr. Seuss town -- all the Younts down in Yountville) where there was some sort of festival going on, and we ate some lunch, had a beer, and enjoyed the live music. A very mediocre little reggae band was gracing us with their renditions of Steve Miller's the Joker, reggae style. We suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a real-live, bona fide RUBIX CUBE CONTEST! It was probably more exciting than that 37 mph hill. A quick internet search reveals that there are many "Speed Solvers" out there. This guy at the table next to us was doing it one handed:
Whoever finished first (there were four of them) slammed his or her cube down on the table, and the others groaned in response. I don't remember seeing them eating or drinking, but they did draw a crowd.

Sunday was a day off for me -- except for the workout I got cleaning my house (and sneezing), I took it easy. And cooked lots of good food. Veggie Curry, stir-fry vegetables, miso soup, and grilled brocolli and brussels sprouts with carmelized tofu.

Monday: spinning, a.m. +lift, p.m.
Tuesday: spinning
Wednesday: spinning
Thursday: lift
Friday: pilates
Saturday 54.5 miles
Sunday: OFF

%&$#!ing Wind!

60 miles on Sunday -- to follow up the 43 miles on Saturday. Whew. What a weekend. I had to work on Sunday (gasp!), so I got up early to ride the first 30 miles on my own, join the group, and ride the second 30 miles. What I did not consider in my planning was that is was going to be 38 degrees and dark when I got up. Then, once the sun came up,
it started to warm a bit, but my word, it was windy. It gave me an opportunity to practice yelling and being mad -- not something I do a whole lot. The weather folks said the wind was blowing at 20 mph with 30-35 mph gusts. The sunrise was lovely over the river. I tried to take a picture of the little ducks having a swim, but they don't really look like much in the quasi-darkness.

I met up with the group half way through my ride and at the beginning of theirs -- some people gave me a hard time for being 'late' (we never leave on time anyway), and some told me I was a wimp for not staying to finish with them. I get a little tired of explaining myself, so I smiled and signed in, and saved up for cursing the wind.

On both Saturday and Sunday, each time we got to a check-in point, we drew a playing card, for a total of 5 cards each day. The idea was (other than making sure everyone checked in) that we would compile our cards, and the highest hand and lowest poker hand would win a prize.

I got to the end of Saturday and told someone how well I did -- I had an 8, 7, 6, 5, and a 3. I thought it was probably pretty good, especially if the 3 had been a 4 instead. They were different colors and suits, but still, they were all in a row (mostly). Saturday evening I got an email saying I won for having the lowest hand. I thought it was par for the course as far as my poker playing goes.

Sunday I didn't eat enough, and got to the rest stop a little angry, grumpy, uncomfortable, and downright annoyed. Why does everyone want to talk at the rest stops? Just leave me alone.
But then I had some oranges, a granola bar, and some pretzels, added some EmergenC to my water bottle, and suddenly stopped hating everyone. Good lesson.

So -- this week:
Monday: Spin
Tuesday: Spin
Wed: Spin (a.m.)
Thurs: Spin (a.m.)
Fri: Pilates
Sat: 43 miles
Sun: 60 miles

And -- not only that, I cooked myself some food. Doesn't that look good?

I had to - or my mom was going to ground me. A friend had a windfall of lots of dollars last week, and celebrated by buying some pre-ride sushi, and sharing with me. I think Saturday was the first day in a long time that I didn't wake up with a rumbly tummy. Plus, it was a nice sort of thing to think about when I was cursing the wind.

This next weekend's ride is in Napa -- a gorgeous ride in the Pope Valley with "one" monstrous hill. They say there's only one hill, but now I know they can't count. I'm one of several 'ride leaders' for Saturday's ride, so I think I better practice not yelling so much while I ride. And maybe smiling more. And some other things too.

But I'm still so tired. I can't seem to get enough sleep and food and down time to catch up with wherever I should be. Perhaps I should just get used to it and consider exhaustion my base line of operating. Or maybe I'll just go to bed.

Opposite of Congress

Progress!
This past weekend we rode the "Benchmark" route again. 43 miles of hills out in Winters. The weather folks predicted thunderstorms for Saturday morning, and though it was chilly starting out, it didn't rain on us. We did the same ride last month (see February 19). It's a lot of hills. They say it's only three hills, which makes me think I don't know how to count hills. It seems to me that when you go up, that's one. Then you go down or even around, and go up again, that's two. Counting this (completely reasonable) way, we climbed about 8 hills. 4 of them seemed darn nigh impossible right up to the point I could just about see the top. Last time I finished the 43 miles of [8] hills in 3 hours and 8 minutes. This month, 3 hours even. Progress! Partly due to my fancy new cassette on my bike that allows me to drop into lower gears on bigger hills. And partly due to my thinking I could make it. Last month I stopped several times on some of the hills while my head spun out about how if I turned around, it would be down hill and I could just coast on home.

The group was fantastic again.
Some of the newer riders had great rides and everyone finished this time around -- all [8] hills. Here's Jana -- big smile on finishing -- she said she felt like a billion dollars. That's a lot of dollars. We had excellent ride support as well -- rest stops offering oranges and water and lots of other treats. Here are some riders checking out the goodies. It's kind of like baseball practice when you're a kid. You play for a while, and then someone shows up with oranges and juice boxes. Only for us, it's oranges and chamois butter to smear on those sensitive parts.

And how lucky are we to have not only people to bring us food, but people to tell us where to turn and shout out encouraging words.
Here is Krazy Horse's motorcycle parked at the top of the last hill (monticello dam). Krazy Horse is one of several motorcycle riders who provide road support on the Ride in May.

Forty three miles sounds like a lot. If I got in my car and drove east for 43 miles, I would be most of the way to South Lake Tahoe. If I drove west, I would be more than halfway to San Francisco.

Oh course, it's all relative. 43 miles compared to 60 miles is only -- well, it's still 43.

Change the clocks, change of view

Woke up this morning for the filming of a Public Service Announcement that will benefit the NCAC. A group of us hung out at the park while the producer and cameraman got the lighting *just right.* Then we got to ride up and down the street while the filmed us all packed in together, riding, acting naturally, smiling, and not talking. It was a fun couple of hours, if mostly uneventful.

When I went through the bills I'd collected at the concert, I found among them a fancy, crisp, new hundred dollar bill. Thank you to the gentleman whose name, I think, is Rich, for your generosity.

Then this evening, I made some good food for the week in hopes that I'll eat it. I simply cannot train like I want to and also not eat.

The day that would never end

7 a.m. - hit snooze button for 4th time, got up to get ready for 40 mile ride. Rode down to meet some friends for coffee at 8.30 before the ride.

8.30 a.m. No sign of friends.

8.45 a.m. No sign of friends

9 a.m. No sign of friends, but folks start showing up for 9 a.m. start time.

9.15 a.m. One friend shows up, says they misjudged the time, and she got lost on the way. Other friend had to turn back for work.

9.30 a.m. Start off on ride toward the river -- to ride south along the Sacramento River.

9.30-10.30/45 a.m. Cruise along with fun group of cyclists at about 18-21 mph. Stop for quick pitstop, continue onto Clarksburg, CA:

10:45: turn around to head back toward West Sacramento, where I will break off from the group and head home -- about 12 more miles to go.

11 a.m. Curse and yell at wind that blew at us from all sides. Riding buddy and I tried to take turns drafting (hiding behind each other and using the other's body as a wind block), but eventually just settled on ride side by side because the wind was blowing from the sides as much as it was coming from the front. Averaged about 10mph for an interminable 10 miles.

11.30 a.m. Curse wind some more.

11.32 a.m. Continue cursing and wondering if I stop pedaling if I'll actually get blown back to Clarksburg.

11.40 a.m. Make a mental list of any and all friends I might have who would pick me up and drive me the last few miles.

11.45 through 12:15 inclusive: Remind myself why we're all out on the River Road on a blustery Saturday riding over streets that haven't been repaved since the Spanish Inquisition.

12:30p Arrive home with wind-burned cheeks, hoarse voice (from the yelling), and riding buddy in tow, as neither of us were keen to the idea of her riding another 20 miles home.

Fast forward to 3p.m.: gather up a few things I need to get done in Davis, call friends at bowling alley to say I'll be late for the birthday-bowling party, and head out to Davis.

3.45p: Get talked into playing one game (?) of bowling. Is it ten frames per game, or is a frame a game? I don't know. I lost AND I broke a nail. There's no beer at this bowling alley. Aren't beer and bowling like peas and carrots?

5 p.m.: say goodbye to birthday girl, run a few Davis errands, hop back on the Freeway to head home, change clothes, open and close fridge a few times before accepting there just wasn't anything in there to grab and eat.

6.30 p.m. hop back on Freeway, drive up to Placerville, CA to attend a Blame Sally concert. The Blame Sally girls graciously offered to advertise the ride, tell folks why I'm riding, and solicit donations.

7.30 p.m. Talked to several people about the Ride, handed out some brochures with my webpage on them, listened to people tell me why they wouldn't be donating, listened to a couple of women who apparently know more about cycling, AIDS, raising money, local bike rides, and bike commuting than I could every hope to, and who also refused to even take a brochure because what would it teach them that they didn't already know? They suggested we might meet again on an upcoming century. Yeah.

9p.m. Listened to amazing music with Blame Sally, blushed a bit when they gushed about how great it was that I was doing the ride.

9.45 p.m. Blushed again before the break when they touted the cause again and encouraged people to donate. Chatted with some folks during the break, and gave out more brochures. Answered questions about the Blame Sally t-shirts as though I knew what I was talking about.
Wondered if I'd have been more gregarious and forward if I hadn't been at the tail of 100 miles in two days, and a whirlwind of a week.

11.15 p.m. Concert ended with another plug for the ride. People filed out and gave me a few dollars here and there. I accepted with many many thanks. Thanked the band, and gave them a couple of brochures, and at least one promised to donate.

11.40 p.m. Finally back in my car, hopped on the Freeway again to head home. Changed car clock ahead an hour with a deep sigh, and a bit of a grimace. Reminded myself of the warm, light summer evenings to come. Rolled down window and sang along with radio to keep myself awake.

1.30 a.m. Arrived back home. Brushed teeth, fed cats, got into bed, set alarm for 7 a.m., and laid there waiting for sleep to beat out the exhaustion. Also made some promises to myself about eating better (more) this coming week, and giving my legs a chance to rest before the Benchmark ride next weekend.

Rest Days? We don't need no stinkin' Rest Days!

What a long week. I taught five spinning classes this week due to some subbing. My legs were pretty worked when I got home on Thursday night. This morning, I got up, drove up to the Fish Hatchery (along the bike trail), and set out to do a few miles. It was chilly and overcast, and I was looking forward to getting on my bike and hitting the road.

I am not a small person. I come from good, hearty, Irish stock. I'm sure if I were born in another century, I'd be digging for potatoes and lifting tractors.
It's hard to load a not-small body up a hill. So -- I work with what I have. Last week, I changed the gearing on my bike to make climbing hills in my good strong, healthy body a little better than a torturous experience (thanks for the bike-work Benj!). Today was the first day I was able to try it out. No matter how you choose to climb hills, if you're in a human-powered apparatus (or have no apparatus at all), it's going to be hard. But after a year of climbing up hills with my little tiny gears, I was a little giddy over the prospect of trying out this ride with my new cassette.

I can't seem to get an elevation profile saved, but the ride was 58 miles, 3426 ft of climbing. It took me about 4 hours and 45 minutes including a stop for lunch, several pictures, and several random stops to question what the heck I was doing. It was a doozy. I rather think that if I had been with other riders, it would have been faster. The ego is a great motivator.

Today was a gorgeous day up in the foothills.


I mostly had the roads to myself. I was passed once by a couple cyclists, and some cars here and there on the back roads. The main roads were a little scary at times, but the bikes lanes were ample. I wasn't totally alone though:


There was a stripy cow out there too.

I stopped at a little "deli" in Newcastle for a snack --
I didn't expect this place to be a gourmet market (but it was). I found some chips (needed the salt) and a protein Odwalla juice. Seemed to do the trick -- I was surprised what a difference it made. I felt much stronger as I set off for another couple of hours of climbing, even though I'd been stopped and had rested a bit. Usually stopping mid-ride makes me feel worse.

When I approached the next steep hill, I was feeling a little defeated. I hate to admit it, but this was my longest training ride to date this season. Between the spinning all week and the first 25 miles of hills, I was pretty pooped. I stopped at the crest of one hill and saw the next few miles of what I was in for. I started to ask myself why the heck I'm doing this. I interrupted the thought [almost] immediately. I know exactly why I'm doing this. So I carried on.

The new gearing did me well. There were a few times I was climbing and having a rough go of it, but it felt a lot like many other hills I've been on, and then suddenly remembered I had three or four more gears. It was like a little present. By the end, I think I had the hang of it. My legs were giving out, but my bike wanted to keep going. Tomorrow's ride will be 40 flat miles along the Sacramento River. I guess my gears won't get a workout, but I'll be fantasizing about hills the whole time. I think this is going to be a whole new era of cycling for me.
Next week, we'll ride the benchmark ride again, so I'll get an accurate comparison.

So -- this week, 10 weeks to the ride:
M: spinning
T: spinning
W: spinning (a.m.)
W: spinning (p.m.)
Th: spinning
Fr: 58 miles - lots of climbing.
Sa: 40 (?) miles mostly flat

I kind of wish I were eating dairy, gluten, and a whole host of other things: I want some pizza!