Wednesday, 22 August
While I was out running this morning, I saw a guy "walking" his dog with his car. He sat behind the wheel with a retractable leash in hand out the window and drove slowly down the block while the dog prowled and sniffed along the edge of the street. What, I'm supposed to be happy the dog is getting some exercise? This speaks volumes about what ails our society....
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Family pride, or why beans are like tomatoes
Sunday, 19 August
Many summer hours of my childhood were spent helping my grandmother pick, trim, and cut green beans--straight from her garden--for canning. I thought of her and my grandfather this evening when I harvested these from my own backyard; my grandparents would be proud. Ride with me to Maltby sometime and I'll show you where they were locavores decades before it was trendy. And how are beans like tomatoes, you ask? No matter where you shop, you can't buy any that even come close to tasting as good as the ones you grow yourself.
Many summer hours of my childhood were spent helping my grandmother pick, trim, and cut green beans--straight from her garden--for canning. I thought of her and my grandfather this evening when I harvested these from my own backyard; my grandparents would be proud. Ride with me to Maltby sometime and I'll show you where they were locavores decades before it was trendy. And how are beans like tomatoes, you ask? No matter where you shop, you can't buy any that even come close to tasting as good as the ones you grow yourself.The weekend leading up to my Sunday evening walk down memory lane (bad pun there, but only a few will catch it) was busy. Friday I rented a floor buffer, attached a disk of about 10-grit sandpaper (saying goodbye to the skin on my knuckles), and tried to get the 60-year-old paint off our concrete floor. It was a 3-way battle between me, the sander, and the paint. I'm not sure who won: I gave up after 3 hours and returned the sander, and there's still paint on the floor (and aches in my shoulders). I've been at this project for many months, and I really should make some more effort to finish it while there are still daylight hours when I'm not at work.
Then we hopped in the car and zipped (not) to Corvallis. Saturday morning was the Marys Peak hillclimb and the one-year anniversary for my tandem racing career with my husband. We had cautious hopes: between he, me, and the bike, we weighed at least 10 pounds less than last year. And the weather was 25 degrees cooler. So...we took a whopping 12 seconds off our course record! We heard lots of "it was windier this year" and "the air was heavier because it was cool and humid." But still....shouldn't we have been able to go more than 12 seconds faster? Kerry certainly proved that being a year older is just an excuse to go faster. All the results are here. I will admit that it was kind of fun passing everyone who started in front of us and being the first bike (of any sort) across the line at a tough hillclimb.
Post-race, we had another lovely drive on I-5, all the way to charming Centralia, followed by one of the worst road-trip meals I have had in a long time and a romantic evening in a Motel 6, in a room that must have only recently come by its "no smoking" label. There was some redemption in a brief excursion to 3 of the plethora of outlet stores in Centralia and even more (no sarcasm here) in our serene, pastoral Sunday morning drive west on highway 12 to Elma.
My team time trial was an odd beast. Our goal was to have the 4 of us finish together. We were the only team in our category, so this was not an unreasonable goal. After some initial hesitations in the first couple of miles, we settled into a good rhythm and rotation and worked together smoothly for the rest of the 32 miles. We had fun, and we all finished together. Mission accomplished. Those results will eventually be posted here (please don't nag me).
Only 3 more weekends of racing this year!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Comfort zone
Sunday, 12 August
Today I let myself be taken way outside my comfort zone--and it was a 100% positive experience.
I am the queen of crit avoidance. Sneak one into a stage race on me, and I'll take whatever prorated time the officials give me; just get me off the course. But today I was committed to the OBRA crit championship in Gresham--on the tandem with Sal.
I kept waiting for the apprehension attack, for hating myself for getting into the position I was in, and then for the sense of impending doom at race time. They didn't show up. Since ours was the first race, we got to preride the course a bunch of times. That helped a lot. And I knew most of the other riders in the race. Still, 6 corners was 2 more than I'd ever seen in a tandem crit--and 6 more than this time trialer would like.
The male-male bikes did most of the mixing it up today, with 2 of them staying away for the second half of the race. The eventual race winners took a really bad line through an early corner and nearly put most of the field into the curb. The things you don't see on the back of a tandem are nice sometimes; I was just aware that we got REALLY close to the sidewalk coming out of that corner and heard the words fly. On the other hand, it's hard to sense how much harder you're going when called upon. It hurts, but you can't see much difference because the stoker isn't getting all those visual cues that the captain is, the ones you get on your single bike.
I think I was pretty relaxed during the race; I never had the familiar panicked feeling of "we are going WAY too fast into this corner." There were maybe 3 or 4 times when you might say we were pedaling against each other. Considering that we have ridden together 4 times in 6 months, and that the race was 30 minutes long, 5 seconds of mis-timed effort is not so bad.
My captain and his bike were awesome in this crit. I am sure he had to do a lot more work, simply because the course was fairly technical. I just had to pedal and lean...and sometimes pedal harder. Time in a crit has never ticked down off the race clock so fast, and never before have I paid no attention to how many times we'd gone around the circuit.
It's funny. The whole CONCEPT of a tandem crit is way outside my comfort zone. But the EXPERIENCE of this one was not. I guess that's why you're supposed to push yourself sometimes--to expand your comfort zone. I'm glad I did.
Oh yeah. Results. We were the first mixed tandem, 4th overall, 2nd in the pack sprint. I have no idea how we did in the finishing sprint; nobody came around us, but I couldn't see the bike that won to know if the gap got bigger or we kept it close in the last straightaway. Primes went to the guys up the road, and I don't even know what they were.
Today I let myself be taken way outside my comfort zone--and it was a 100% positive experience.
I am the queen of crit avoidance. Sneak one into a stage race on me, and I'll take whatever prorated time the officials give me; just get me off the course. But today I was committed to the OBRA crit championship in Gresham--on the tandem with Sal.
I kept waiting for the apprehension attack, for hating myself for getting into the position I was in, and then for the sense of impending doom at race time. They didn't show up. Since ours was the first race, we got to preride the course a bunch of times. That helped a lot. And I knew most of the other riders in the race. Still, 6 corners was 2 more than I'd ever seen in a tandem crit--and 6 more than this time trialer would like.
The male-male bikes did most of the mixing it up today, with 2 of them staying away for the second half of the race. The eventual race winners took a really bad line through an early corner and nearly put most of the field into the curb. The things you don't see on the back of a tandem are nice sometimes; I was just aware that we got REALLY close to the sidewalk coming out of that corner and heard the words fly. On the other hand, it's hard to sense how much harder you're going when called upon. It hurts, but you can't see much difference because the stoker isn't getting all those visual cues that the captain is, the ones you get on your single bike.
I think I was pretty relaxed during the race; I never had the familiar panicked feeling of "we are going WAY too fast into this corner." There were maybe 3 or 4 times when you might say we were pedaling against each other. Considering that we have ridden together 4 times in 6 months, and that the race was 30 minutes long, 5 seconds of mis-timed effort is not so bad.
My captain and his bike were awesome in this crit. I am sure he had to do a lot more work, simply because the course was fairly technical. I just had to pedal and lean...and sometimes pedal harder. Time in a crit has never ticked down off the race clock so fast, and never before have I paid no attention to how many times we'd gone around the circuit.
It's funny. The whole CONCEPT of a tandem crit is way outside my comfort zone. But the EXPERIENCE of this one was not. I guess that's why you're supposed to push yourself sometimes--to expand your comfort zone. I'm glad I did.
Oh yeah. Results. We were the first mixed tandem, 4th overall, 2nd in the pack sprint. I have no idea how we did in the finishing sprint; nobody came around us, but I couldn't see the bike that won to know if the gap got bigger or we kept it close in the last straightaway. Primes went to the guys up the road, and I don't even know what they were.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Fame allotment
Thursday, 9 August, 62 years after Nagasaki
Few of us get our allotted 15 minutes of fame and glory in one big chunk. Kerry got a fraction of his portion this week in the Mt. Shasta Herald after dropping the field at the Mt. Shasta hillclimb:
http://www.mtshastanews.com/articles/2007/08/08/sports/sports01.txt
Kind of balances out all you flatlander bloggers scared away by the big hills at Pacific Raceways.
Few of us get our allotted 15 minutes of fame and glory in one big chunk. Kerry got a fraction of his portion this week in the Mt. Shasta Herald after dropping the field at the Mt. Shasta hillclimb:
http://www.mtshastanews.com/articles/2007/08/08/sports/sports01.txt
Kind of balances out all you flatlander bloggers scared away by the big hills at Pacific Raceways.
Monday, August 06, 2007
TT Zen
Monday, 6 August, 62 years after Hiroshima
Lots of riders talk about getting into a rhythm or zone during a flat time trial. You want a steady effort and a smooth ride, none of that losing focus or endlessly shifting gears in search of a cadence that feels easy but delivers whopping power. Well, I can tell you faster than any coach how to find that elusive Zen-like trance: stoke a tandem for a time trial.
Yesterday was the 40.75K OBRA time trial championship on the beautiful Peoria course. Tandems got their TT championship at the beginning of July, so Sal and I were just racing for...well, for fun. Sal's tandem is a lot shorter than the one O.A.D. and I have, so my hands were either in the drops (99% of the time) or on the hoods (to stand at the start and turnaround). I can't put my head down and watch the ground go by because there's not enough room, so I stare at a blue blur that's the back of Sal's skinsuit. There's no quest for the most aero position because there aren't a lot of options. But Sal is considerably taller than O.A.D., so I don't stick out in the wind too much.
The Peoria course has few landmarks on it: two bends, two bridges over culverts, and a few stands of trees. The pavement is perfectly smooth except for one bridge transition. Even on a single bike, there is not a lot of distraction here. On the back of a tandem, there is nothing to think about but pedaling as hard as you can with whatever gear you've been dealt. There's no point in looking up because there's nothing to see. To keep my focus, I tried a few mantras from my personal collection and found that the tried-and-truest one worked best. I also tried closing my eyes, but that must have made me lose concentration because Sal would always come out with "we've got to keep up our speed" (this was into the raging headwind on the return) or "let's go harder over this little riser" (riser? on this course?). So I kept my eyes wide open, repeated my mantra over and over in my head, and tried not to think that it was taking forever. Sometimes, everything came together and it was really smooth and I was pedaling without thinking about it.
It's kind of cool that when you push your body that hard, and take away almost all distractions, you really can think about absolutely nothing. Until your captain interrupts and says "OK, 5K to go. Really push it." What had I been doing for the last 35K?
Wind and lack of sleep turn out not to be the best things for a fast tandem TT time; we were 27th out of 202 bikes in the race (but faster than the other tandems). We were 28 seconds slower than last year and well off the course record I stoked in July. But we had fun!
Lots of riders talk about getting into a rhythm or zone during a flat time trial. You want a steady effort and a smooth ride, none of that losing focus or endlessly shifting gears in search of a cadence that feels easy but delivers whopping power. Well, I can tell you faster than any coach how to find that elusive Zen-like trance: stoke a tandem for a time trial.
Yesterday was the 40.75K OBRA time trial championship on the beautiful Peoria course. Tandems got their TT championship at the beginning of July, so Sal and I were just racing for...well, for fun. Sal's tandem is a lot shorter than the one O.A.D. and I have, so my hands were either in the drops (99% of the time) or on the hoods (to stand at the start and turnaround). I can't put my head down and watch the ground go by because there's not enough room, so I stare at a blue blur that's the back of Sal's skinsuit. There's no quest for the most aero position because there aren't a lot of options. But Sal is considerably taller than O.A.D., so I don't stick out in the wind too much.
The Peoria course has few landmarks on it: two bends, two bridges over culverts, and a few stands of trees. The pavement is perfectly smooth except for one bridge transition. Even on a single bike, there is not a lot of distraction here. On the back of a tandem, there is nothing to think about but pedaling as hard as you can with whatever gear you've been dealt. There's no point in looking up because there's nothing to see. To keep my focus, I tried a few mantras from my personal collection and found that the tried-and-truest one worked best. I also tried closing my eyes, but that must have made me lose concentration because Sal would always come out with "we've got to keep up our speed" (this was into the raging headwind on the return) or "let's go harder over this little riser" (riser? on this course?). So I kept my eyes wide open, repeated my mantra over and over in my head, and tried not to think that it was taking forever. Sometimes, everything came together and it was really smooth and I was pedaling without thinking about it.
It's kind of cool that when you push your body that hard, and take away almost all distractions, you really can think about absolutely nothing. Until your captain interrupts and says "OK, 5K to go. Really push it." What had I been doing for the last 35K?
Wind and lack of sleep turn out not to be the best things for a fast tandem TT time; we were 27th out of 202 bikes in the race (but faster than the other tandems). We were 28 seconds slower than last year and well off the course record I stoked in July. But we had fun!
Friday, August 03, 2007
Soft Irish rain
Friday, 3 August
Twas a lovely soft rain this morning. Good for the garden, good for the soul. Had to chase some spiders off the rain bike, though, before I could ride to work. And the cat was not amused.
Hats: None made in a month, although I have identified my next victim--I mean, giftee.
Garden: Berries about done, beans (green, purple, yellow) harvested daily, a few tomatoes every week, but the potatoes don't much like hot weather (how do they grow in Idaho?). Made a batch each of raspberry (from my garden) and apricot jam.
Tandems: I have not raced on my road bike in a month! But lots on the tandem. Next up: 40K at Peoria on Sunday. Sal and I will see if we can beat our time from a year ago...and will we beat the course record that O.A.D. and I set on 7/7?
Twas a lovely soft rain this morning. Good for the garden, good for the soul. Had to chase some spiders off the rain bike, though, before I could ride to work. And the cat was not amused.
Hats: None made in a month, although I have identified my next victim--I mean, giftee.
Garden: Berries about done, beans (green, purple, yellow) harvested daily, a few tomatoes every week, but the potatoes don't much like hot weather (how do they grow in Idaho?). Made a batch each of raspberry (from my garden) and apricot jam.
Tandems: I have not raced on my road bike in a month! But lots on the tandem. Next up: 40K at Peoria on Sunday. Sal and I will see if we can beat our time from a year ago...and will we beat the course record that O.A.D. and I set on 7/7?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Important race question
Wednesday, 25 July
Why the heck do the cat 4-5s yell so much during their race at Pacific Raceways? Are they all hard of hearing? It doesn't sound like "slowing" or "hold your line." It's more like they're continuing ten arguments from the previous week. There could actually be racing going on if they weren't expending all their energy yelling at each other.
Yeah, yeah, I could go ride with a different field. But half of the masters guys are racing in shorts that should've been retired three years ago, and the 1-2s are so strung out most of the time that there's no nice draft for wimps like me to sit in. So I make do with the 4s until the sketch factor kicks in. But the yelling has got to go....
Why the heck do the cat 4-5s yell so much during their race at Pacific Raceways? Are they all hard of hearing? It doesn't sound like "slowing" or "hold your line." It's more like they're continuing ten arguments from the previous week. There could actually be racing going on if they weren't expending all their energy yelling at each other.
Yeah, yeah, I could go ride with a different field. But half of the masters guys are racing in shorts that should've been retired three years ago, and the 1-2s are so strung out most of the time that there's no nice draft for wimps like me to sit in. So I make do with the 4s until the sketch factor kicks in. But the yelling has got to go....
Monday, July 23, 2007
A whole nother level
Monday, 23 July
The folks who really rode on a different level this weekend were at Race Across Oregon.
Being a mere mortal, I stuck to the Co-Motion tandem stage race. It was my third Co-Motion race, but the first year to race there with my husband. Race results will eventually appear here, and I'll forgo the blow-by-blow details. We were third in the TT (first mixed tandem), lost no time to our competition in the crit, and were fourth in the RR (first mixed).
The lesser observation of the weekend is that the male-male bikes did absolutely nothing in the crit. They didn't ride at the front, they didn't get in any breaks, and they didn't win any primes. I could only attribute such atypical male behavior to the fact that the male pairs were matches made for this race--and thus less confident of their combined technical riding skills?--whereas the mixed pairs probably do most of their tandem riding with their partners in this race. Never mind that we'd never sprinted on the tandem before; it didn't stop us from trying (we have 2+ pounds of coffee to prove it)!
The greater observation came halfway up the epic climb in yesterday's road race. The bottom mile is the steepest; everyone stayed together. Then it settles into about 7% for the next two miles. By halfway through this, we were the only mixed tandem left in the front group. I knew it was the place to be, but I felt a little out of my league with all those boys riding hard on a long climb. Mostly, though, I felt like I might explode at any moment; I know this climb well and was focusing on getting to where it flattens out a little in the last mile. And then the Hutch's guys attacked. Before I could even think "oh good, let them go," my captain launched to get on their wheel. And we did. And we stayed. Until the next attack.
I have always thought that riding tandem is a better workout than I would get doing the same ride on my single bike. Perceived effort is less than actual effort. Previous tandem partners have all been much stronger than me--men just have more muscle mass and more power output, and the ones I've ridden with also had more pounds than I have.
But when O.A.D. went after that first attack yesterday, I was truly surprised--not that he tried, but that he made it work. I thought I was at my max, and there was no way I could've gone harder if I'd been on my single bike. But all of a sudden someone was making me go harder--I didn't have any choice. And since I was probably contributing about 10% of the increased effort, that meant he was doing 90% and dragging me up the hill...and staying with those guys. Think about how hard it is to accelerate on a long climb. Then imagine doing it on a bike that weighs 10 pounds more than your race bike, with 125 pounds of underpowered weight on the back. This was something that all the modern technology you can put on your bike will never measure. I'm not sure what the measure is, but I guess my climbing ability has been relatively similar to that of my previous partners, whereas O.A.D. possesses more of something in that department.
We couldn't match the second attack but--like Levi--we just rode a hard, damage-control tempo and stayed with one male-male bike that eventually towed us up to the two leaders. Apart from two 2-mile descents, I was maxed out for about 17 miles of climbing and chasing. I never ride with a heart-rate monitor, but I sure wish I had data from that effort!
The folks who really rode on a different level this weekend were at Race Across Oregon.
Being a mere mortal, I stuck to the Co-Motion tandem stage race. It was my third Co-Motion race, but the first year to race there with my husband. Race results will eventually appear here, and I'll forgo the blow-by-blow details. We were third in the TT (first mixed tandem), lost no time to our competition in the crit, and were fourth in the RR (first mixed).
The lesser observation of the weekend is that the male-male bikes did absolutely nothing in the crit. They didn't ride at the front, they didn't get in any breaks, and they didn't win any primes. I could only attribute such atypical male behavior to the fact that the male pairs were matches made for this race--and thus less confident of their combined technical riding skills?--whereas the mixed pairs probably do most of their tandem riding with their partners in this race. Never mind that we'd never sprinted on the tandem before; it didn't stop us from trying (we have 2+ pounds of coffee to prove it)!
The greater observation came halfway up the epic climb in yesterday's road race. The bottom mile is the steepest; everyone stayed together. Then it settles into about 7% for the next two miles. By halfway through this, we were the only mixed tandem left in the front group. I knew it was the place to be, but I felt a little out of my league with all those boys riding hard on a long climb. Mostly, though, I felt like I might explode at any moment; I know this climb well and was focusing on getting to where it flattens out a little in the last mile. And then the Hutch's guys attacked. Before I could even think "oh good, let them go," my captain launched to get on their wheel. And we did. And we stayed. Until the next attack.
I have always thought that riding tandem is a better workout than I would get doing the same ride on my single bike. Perceived effort is less than actual effort. Previous tandem partners have all been much stronger than me--men just have more muscle mass and more power output, and the ones I've ridden with also had more pounds than I have.
But when O.A.D. went after that first attack yesterday, I was truly surprised--not that he tried, but that he made it work. I thought I was at my max, and there was no way I could've gone harder if I'd been on my single bike. But all of a sudden someone was making me go harder--I didn't have any choice. And since I was probably contributing about 10% of the increased effort, that meant he was doing 90% and dragging me up the hill...and staying with those guys. Think about how hard it is to accelerate on a long climb. Then imagine doing it on a bike that weighs 10 pounds more than your race bike, with 125 pounds of underpowered weight on the back. This was something that all the modern technology you can put on your bike will never measure. I'm not sure what the measure is, but I guess my climbing ability has been relatively similar to that of my previous partners, whereas O.A.D. possesses more of something in that department.
We couldn't match the second attack but--like Levi--we just rode a hard, damage-control tempo and stayed with one male-male bike that eventually towed us up to the two leaders. Apart from two 2-mile descents, I was maxed out for about 17 miles of climbing and chasing. I never ride with a heart-rate monitor, but I sure wish I had data from that effort!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Port-a-potty protocol
Saturday, 21 July
Dudes, lock the door!!
At the Cascade Cycling Classic two weeks ago, I walked up to a port-a-potty with a green "open" sign on the door--and opened it to find a guy with his shorts around his ankles. Oops, sorry!
Today at the Co-Motion tandem stage race, I hesitated before another "open" biffy and knocked. No answer. So I opened it up--and there's another guy in the same state.
What is this? A secret desire to be caught at something I don't want to catch anyone at? As the next person in line said, this isn't exactly rocket science. How do we make it any clearer? It's not so bad when a male teammate or some old broad like me catches you, but little kids? An official? LOCK THE DOOR!!
Dudes, lock the door!!
At the Cascade Cycling Classic two weeks ago, I walked up to a port-a-potty with a green "open" sign on the door--and opened it to find a guy with his shorts around his ankles. Oops, sorry!
Today at the Co-Motion tandem stage race, I hesitated before another "open" biffy and knocked. No answer. So I opened it up--and there's another guy in the same state.
What is this? A secret desire to be caught at something I don't want to catch anyone at? As the next person in line said, this isn't exactly rocket science. How do we make it any clearer? It's not so bad when a male teammate or some old broad like me catches you, but little kids? An official? LOCK THE DOOR!!
Monday, July 16, 2007
Picture show
Monday, 16 July (still)
Sahalie Falls. Almost the headwaters of the McKenzie River.
Top of McKenzie Pass. Road is completely closed just past the summit, so almost no cars.
No cars, but lots of chipmunks up there on McKenzie Pass!
Stage 5 feed zone. This is the break in the pro field; it's relatively quiet here, but there was pandemonium when the packs came through. Phil in com 1 kept trying (futilely) to wave us all back outside the white line.
Sahalie Falls. Almost the headwaters of the McKenzie River.
Top of McKenzie Pass. Road is completely closed just past the summit, so almost no cars.
No cars, but lots of chipmunks up there on McKenzie Pass!
Stage 5 feed zone. This is the break in the pro field; it's relatively quiet here, but there was pandemonium when the packs came through. Phil in com 1 kept trying (futilely) to wave us all back outside the white line.
Back to reality
Monday, 16 July
I went. I saw. I conquered. And then I had to come home.
The conquest started off the week: I set a new course record--with help from O.A.D., of course. There then were a couple of long, solo, unsupported days on my single bike on beautiful roads next to scenic rivers and over mountain passes, some stretches with not-so-beautiful traffic. There was one glorious ride on a closed road, 15 miles out/up, 15 miles back/down; I realized about 3/4 of the way through the ride that I had a huge grin on my face--it was just that beautiful and that much fun. Found another scrumptious bakery. Saw alpacas, llamas, reindeer (seriously!), a gazillion chipmunks, a bobcat, and blazingly bright stars all the way down to the horizon.
Then it was on to one day of registration and two days of hard physical labor to support an NRC race (remind me never to promote one of those). Then two days of feed zoning, which took me back to my earliest roots in bike racing. I am quite happy to sit at my desk, out of the sun, today!
All week long, I just kept meeting great people and getting to know others better and seeing folks I hadn't seen in years. There's a huge cycling community out there, and so many parts are so interconnected. People were incredibly kind and generous to me, and others seemed grateful for advice and help I was able to give them. And on my bike, I encountered not one rude motorist--in 300 miles, much of it on state highways, that was a pleasant surprise.
It was not a vacation where I got to lie in a hammock, read all day (I read one book), and drink umbrellaed drinks (I sampled several local beers, though). But I barely thought about work...or the WSBA...or BARR points...and I had a lot of fun. I would do it all again (and better) in a heartbeat!
Afterword: My antipathy toward crits was only reinforced on this busman's holiday. During a crit on Friday, I was minding my own business, sitting 3 feet back from the curb after corner 3 just opposite one of the pits, making a hat, when 2 riders came flying through the caution tape and over the hay bale and very, very nearly slammed into me. The riders were okay, but the same cannot be said for one skinsuit and one carbon seatpost that's now in two pieces. In retrospect, it's pretty funny: I was nearly taken out in a crit and I wasn't even on my bike!
I went. I saw. I conquered. And then I had to come home.
The conquest started off the week: I set a new course record--with help from O.A.D., of course. There then were a couple of long, solo, unsupported days on my single bike on beautiful roads next to scenic rivers and over mountain passes, some stretches with not-so-beautiful traffic. There was one glorious ride on a closed road, 15 miles out/up, 15 miles back/down; I realized about 3/4 of the way through the ride that I had a huge grin on my face--it was just that beautiful and that much fun. Found another scrumptious bakery. Saw alpacas, llamas, reindeer (seriously!), a gazillion chipmunks, a bobcat, and blazingly bright stars all the way down to the horizon.
Then it was on to one day of registration and two days of hard physical labor to support an NRC race (remind me never to promote one of those). Then two days of feed zoning, which took me back to my earliest roots in bike racing. I am quite happy to sit at my desk, out of the sun, today!
All week long, I just kept meeting great people and getting to know others better and seeing folks I hadn't seen in years. There's a huge cycling community out there, and so many parts are so interconnected. People were incredibly kind and generous to me, and others seemed grateful for advice and help I was able to give them. And on my bike, I encountered not one rude motorist--in 300 miles, much of it on state highways, that was a pleasant surprise.
It was not a vacation where I got to lie in a hammock, read all day (I read one book), and drink umbrellaed drinks (I sampled several local beers, though). But I barely thought about work...or the WSBA...or BARR points...and I had a lot of fun. I would do it all again (and better) in a heartbeat!
Afterword: My antipathy toward crits was only reinforced on this busman's holiday. During a crit on Friday, I was minding my own business, sitting 3 feet back from the curb after corner 3 just opposite one of the pits, making a hat, when 2 riders came flying through the caution tape and over the hay bale and very, very nearly slammed into me. The riders were okay, but the same cannot be said for one skinsuit and one carbon seatpost that's now in two pieces. In retrospect, it's pretty funny: I was nearly taken out in a crit and I wasn't even on my bike!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Summertime
Friday, 6 July
I'm off to try new things for a while: do something I've never done, go somewhere I've never been. There will, of course, be tandems and my single bike and challenges. And hats, friends, wilderness, and racing. And nary a computer on the horizon. Happy summer!
I'm off to try new things for a while: do something I've never done, go somewhere I've never been. There will, of course, be tandems and my single bike and challenges. And hats, friends, wilderness, and racing. And nary a computer on the horizon. Happy summer!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Two firsts
Monday, 2 July
No, that's not my weekend race report (I only managed one second in that department).
The first first was on Sunday morning. We were driving on the Delta Highway in Eugene and saw a turtle in the middle of the road. This was not one of those turtles that somebody wanted to remove from the Des Moines crit course. This was a critter, walking across the freeway. Its shell was probably 8-10 inches across and the color of concrete. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic so I'm hoping it made it all the way across without becoming road kill.
The second first was during my race on Sunday afternoon. On the second lap, I was riding with one other woman. We had just turned onto the narrow, rolly, twisty road through the vineyards on this course when we heard a truck behind us. Since we had no lead or follow car, we did our duty and moved to the right, but it took a while before the driver got up the nerve to pass--you couldn't see more than 100 feet along the road at a time. It turned out that the vehicle was not a truck but a Hummer limo, and it took FOREVER to get past us. When it pulled in front of us, it didn't fit on its half of the road so the right wheels were in the dirt on the right shoulder. And then it turned right into one of the wineries, forcing us to slow down while we waited for it to turn its behemoth self off the road.
The racing was good; more than twice as many women turned out for the masters women's road race championship this Sunday than had turned up 3 weeks ago for the senior women's championship race.
No, that's not my weekend race report (I only managed one second in that department).
The first first was on Sunday morning. We were driving on the Delta Highway in Eugene and saw a turtle in the middle of the road. This was not one of those turtles that somebody wanted to remove from the Des Moines crit course. This was a critter, walking across the freeway. Its shell was probably 8-10 inches across and the color of concrete. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic so I'm hoping it made it all the way across without becoming road kill.
The second first was during my race on Sunday afternoon. On the second lap, I was riding with one other woman. We had just turned onto the narrow, rolly, twisty road through the vineyards on this course when we heard a truck behind us. Since we had no lead or follow car, we did our duty and moved to the right, but it took a while before the driver got up the nerve to pass--you couldn't see more than 100 feet along the road at a time. It turned out that the vehicle was not a truck but a Hummer limo, and it took FOREVER to get past us. When it pulled in front of us, it didn't fit on its half of the road so the right wheels were in the dirt on the right shoulder. And then it turned right into one of the wineries, forcing us to slow down while we waited for it to turn its behemoth self off the road.
The racing was good; more than twice as many women turned out for the masters women's road race championship this Sunday than had turned up 3 weeks ago for the senior women's championship race.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Not about the bike
Friday, 29 June
I went to my local farmers market on Thursday afternoon and bought these beauties from Schuh Farms in the Skagit Valley. That's a whole flat, 12 pints of fresh-picked strawberries from 50 miles away instead of 1500.
So my Friday afternoon/evening was busy, making a total of 17 jars of jam, some little, some big. It's the perfect stuff on pancakes before a long winter ride! Mmmmm.
And there's no rest for the weary because the raspberries are coming on like gangbusters--a pint and a half tonight from my garden. I freeze what we can't eat (well, that's not quite true; I leave out enough for dessert and breakfast and freeze the rest) and already have more than half of what I need for a batch of jam.
And on Monday morning, I'll be out there picking blueberries to top off the cereal bowl! 75 feet, 15 seconds from bush to bowl. I love this time of year.
I went to my local farmers market on Thursday afternoon and bought these beauties from Schuh Farms in the Skagit Valley. That's a whole flat, 12 pints of fresh-picked strawberries from 50 miles away instead of 1500.
So my Friday afternoon/evening was busy, making a total of 17 jars of jam, some little, some big. It's the perfect stuff on pancakes before a long winter ride! Mmmmm.
And there's no rest for the weary because the raspberries are coming on like gangbusters--a pint and a half tonight from my garden. I freeze what we can't eat (well, that's not quite true; I leave out enough for dessert and breakfast and freeze the rest) and already have more than half of what I need for a batch of jam.And on Monday morning, I'll be out there picking blueberries to top off the cereal bowl! 75 feet, 15 seconds from bush to bowl. I love this time of year.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Another racing observation
Tuesday, 26 June
I'm feeling really bold today--and I haven't even had my coffee yet. Last time I ventured into the "why do they race/ride they way they do?" realm, I was told that my entry was a "pretty big blow to the NW women's peloton" and "most of it was inaccurate." Again, I'm just making an observation today, based on my limited participation in the sport. I don't think it's very controversial but someone will probably take offense (that's what blogs are supposed to do, right--offend?).
Perhaps more than most women, I race sometimes with men. Not just the weekly series events, but by racing on the tandem with multiple male partners (no comments, please), I get some insight into how men race and ride.
Last Sunday, though, I was in a group of experienced women racers for a very long time up some long climbs. And I noticed that they almost never get out of the saddle. Sit, sit, sit--uphill, downhill, just about all the time. Men complain they can't get out of the saddle enough when they ride tandem and they all wonder why I can't stand for a half a mile at a stretch.
I first got insight into the value of standing occasionally when I rode with an ex-pro up that long climb on the last day at Columbia Plateau (its reported length varies but it's at least 10 miles). Standing lets you rest some muscles and use new ones, it changes the way your weight is distributed through your hands and feet, and (sometimes this is priceless) it allows you some respite from pressure on the saddle. And on an extraordinarily long climb, well, it's something to do.
But there we were on Sunday, a group of maybe 20 women riding up a 4-mile climb, every single one of us in the saddle. The pace was not blistering and I thought it was a great opportunity to get out of the saddle. The only other woman who was standing occasionally was clearly on the rivet and struggling to keep her momentum up enough to stay on. Now, there's nothing wrong with sitting, and it made for an incredibly smooth group because bikes don't shift around nearly as much when you're sitting squarely on top of them. But the men I ride with would have been out of the saddle more than they were in it.
So, what's the difference here? Is it purely anatomical? There were plenty of complaints from the women about, um, saddle discomfort and a fair amount of shifting position ever so slightly to try to relieve pressure on particularly sore spots. Do women's bikes "fit" them differently so that standing is not as comfortable as it is for men? Are women not as confident out of the saddle? I would not for a minute believe that saddle manufacturers favor women's saddle comfort over men's (because nothing else manufactured for this sport favors a woman's anatomy).
Okay, so tell me I'm clearly not a bike racer because if I had all this time and energy for observation and getting out of the saddle, I should have been attacking instead and not just sitting in a super smooth group when there were only 60 miles to the finish. That still doesn't answer my fundamental question (based on unscientific data collection, I know): why are men so much more likely to climb out of the saddle than women? Maybe I should ask about the tendencies of cat 4/5 men because I'm, um, selective about my male tandem partners and they've all been cat 1/2. Anybody have any insights into this really burning question?
I'm feeling really bold today--and I haven't even had my coffee yet. Last time I ventured into the "why do they race/ride they way they do?" realm, I was told that my entry was a "pretty big blow to the NW women's peloton" and "most of it was inaccurate." Again, I'm just making an observation today, based on my limited participation in the sport. I don't think it's very controversial but someone will probably take offense (that's what blogs are supposed to do, right--offend?).
Perhaps more than most women, I race sometimes with men. Not just the weekly series events, but by racing on the tandem with multiple male partners (no comments, please), I get some insight into how men race and ride.
Last Sunday, though, I was in a group of experienced women racers for a very long time up some long climbs. And I noticed that they almost never get out of the saddle. Sit, sit, sit--uphill, downhill, just about all the time. Men complain they can't get out of the saddle enough when they ride tandem and they all wonder why I can't stand for a half a mile at a stretch.
I first got insight into the value of standing occasionally when I rode with an ex-pro up that long climb on the last day at Columbia Plateau (its reported length varies but it's at least 10 miles). Standing lets you rest some muscles and use new ones, it changes the way your weight is distributed through your hands and feet, and (sometimes this is priceless) it allows you some respite from pressure on the saddle. And on an extraordinarily long climb, well, it's something to do.
But there we were on Sunday, a group of maybe 20 women riding up a 4-mile climb, every single one of us in the saddle. The pace was not blistering and I thought it was a great opportunity to get out of the saddle. The only other woman who was standing occasionally was clearly on the rivet and struggling to keep her momentum up enough to stay on. Now, there's nothing wrong with sitting, and it made for an incredibly smooth group because bikes don't shift around nearly as much when you're sitting squarely on top of them. But the men I ride with would have been out of the saddle more than they were in it.
So, what's the difference here? Is it purely anatomical? There were plenty of complaints from the women about, um, saddle discomfort and a fair amount of shifting position ever so slightly to try to relieve pressure on particularly sore spots. Do women's bikes "fit" them differently so that standing is not as comfortable as it is for men? Are women not as confident out of the saddle? I would not for a minute believe that saddle manufacturers favor women's saddle comfort over men's (because nothing else manufactured for this sport favors a woman's anatomy).
Okay, so tell me I'm clearly not a bike racer because if I had all this time and energy for observation and getting out of the saddle, I should have been attacking instead and not just sitting in a super smooth group when there were only 60 miles to the finish. That still doesn't answer my fundamental question (based on unscientific data collection, I know): why are men so much more likely to climb out of the saddle than women? Maybe I should ask about the tendencies of cat 4/5 men because I'm, um, selective about my male tandem partners and they've all been cat 1/2. Anybody have any insights into this really burning question?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Elkhorn days 2 and 3
Monday, 25 June
Saturday is the double-stage day at Elkhorn. You expect your legs to be tired on the second day of a stage race, but this time mine weren't. Every other part of me was tortured and exhausted, though, from the epicness of Friday. Walking from the car to the coffee shop for breakfast tired me out. I just wanted to lie in bed.
We had forgotten to pack the trainer into the car, so my warm-up for the TT was some hat-making followed by a brief spin on a borrowed trainer. Once I was racing, it took at least 2 kilometers to convince my body that it really could go hard. My time was 5 seconds slower than 2006, which didn't seem too bad, but I figured with the stronger field this year that it might be good enough for 10th instead of the 5th place I got last year. Hours later, I found out I was 6th on the stage. Well, at least there was some respectability there, since I was certain to do nothing but lose more time in the remaining stages. I guess everyone else was still exhausted from Friday's little jaunt.
The crit involved a prerace exchange of visits to the OBRA rule book and staying in long enough that I got so many laps down that the officials couldn't do the math any more and finally pulled me to make their lives easier. The only interesting thing about the crit was that they had so much stuff to give away that there was a prime nearly every lap. After Ms. U23 Australian national champion (who should've won a prize for choppiest pedal stroke in the peloton) went solo off the front, the race staff were kind enough to offer some of the prizes to the pack.
Sunday is the epic Dooley Mountain road race, 102 miles of desolate Oregon wilderness (okay, there are farms from about mile 80 to 95, but not much sign of humanity anywhere else) finishing at the top of an 8-mile climb up Dooley Mountain. One year it snowed on this stage; other years the final climb has been like racing in an oven. There is now an unofficial water station at the sign marking the first hairpin on the climb so that if you're really desperate, you can stop and help yourself to a bottle.
The weather Sunday was PERFECT for racing. I started with arm warmers and gloves and was fine. The temperature never got above 75. There were some windy sections, but nothing like Friday. There are three big climbs on this stage (several miles each) plus some little "short" bumps (maybe a mile each). There are two amazingly long descents that even I have fun on, especially this year when I never had to chase back on down the descents. We had a rotating pace line going for the first part of the race that was a thing to behold: smooth, no gaps, no surges. And this with 35 women. We also luxuriated in a total of 3 pee stops on this stage. The last one was a bit mis-timed, and the masters break passed just as we stopped. I rode up the last climb with a woman from OSU, and it was nice to have company.
Bike racing is funny. I had a bad day on Friday, I lost time in the crit (which most people manage not to do), and I lost more time on the final climb on Sunday. My TT was reasonably OK, but not so good that I made up for any of those other losses. In the end, I came out 10th in GC and also 3rd in the FIAC stage race national championships. Other riders had worser days than me, I guess. And Friday's weather took its toll on different people in different ways.
Congrats to Allison for her win in our race. But special congrats to the old guy who counterattacked out of the neutral start in the masters race, stayed away in a break all day, and won solo at the top of Dooley! All the results will eventually be posted here. Special thanks to OBRA's Rob Anderson for his pictures and his endless patience in directing (cars and men on bikes) traffic around our peloton yesterday.
Saturday is the double-stage day at Elkhorn. You expect your legs to be tired on the second day of a stage race, but this time mine weren't. Every other part of me was tortured and exhausted, though, from the epicness of Friday. Walking from the car to the coffee shop for breakfast tired me out. I just wanted to lie in bed.
We had forgotten to pack the trainer into the car, so my warm-up for the TT was some hat-making followed by a brief spin on a borrowed trainer. Once I was racing, it took at least 2 kilometers to convince my body that it really could go hard. My time was 5 seconds slower than 2006, which didn't seem too bad, but I figured with the stronger field this year that it might be good enough for 10th instead of the 5th place I got last year. Hours later, I found out I was 6th on the stage. Well, at least there was some respectability there, since I was certain to do nothing but lose more time in the remaining stages. I guess everyone else was still exhausted from Friday's little jaunt.The crit involved a prerace exchange of visits to the OBRA rule book and staying in long enough that I got so many laps down that the officials couldn't do the math any more and finally pulled me to make their lives easier. The only interesting thing about the crit was that they had so much stuff to give away that there was a prime nearly every lap. After Ms. U23 Australian national champion (who should've won a prize for choppiest pedal stroke in the peloton) went solo off the front, the race staff were kind enough to offer some of the prizes to the pack.
Sunday is the epic Dooley Mountain road race, 102 miles of desolate Oregon wilderness (okay, there are farms from about mile 80 to 95, but not much sign of humanity anywhere else) finishing at the top of an 8-mile climb up Dooley Mountain. One year it snowed on this stage; other years the final climb has been like racing in an oven. There is now an unofficial water station at the sign marking the first hairpin on the climb so that if you're really desperate, you can stop and help yourself to a bottle.
The weather Sunday was PERFECT for racing. I started with arm warmers and gloves and was fine. The temperature never got above 75. There were some windy sections, but nothing like Friday. There are three big climbs on this stage (several miles each) plus some little "short" bumps (maybe a mile each). There are two amazingly long descents that even I have fun on, especially this year when I never had to chase back on down the descents. We had a rotating pace line going for the first part of the race that was a thing to behold: smooth, no gaps, no surges. And this with 35 women. We also luxuriated in a total of 3 pee stops on this stage. The last one was a bit mis-timed, and the masters break passed just as we stopped. I rode up the last climb with a woman from OSU, and it was nice to have company.
Bike racing is funny. I had a bad day on Friday, I lost time in the crit (which most people manage not to do), and I lost more time on the final climb on Sunday. My TT was reasonably OK, but not so good that I made up for any of those other losses. In the end, I came out 10th in GC and also 3rd in the FIAC stage race national championships. Other riders had worser days than me, I guess. And Friday's weather took its toll on different people in different ways.Congrats to Allison for her win in our race. But special congrats to the old guy who counterattacked out of the neutral start in the masters race, stayed away in a break all day, and won solo at the top of Dooley! All the results will eventually be posted here. Special thanks to OBRA's Rob Anderson for his pictures and his endless patience in directing (cars and men on bikes) traffic around our peloton yesterday.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
HELLs Canyon alright
Friday, 22 June
78 miles. Out and back: mostly downhill on the Hells Canyon scenic highway to Richland (pop. 150), then mostly uphill back.
4 hours 20-some minutes. It was that amazing combination of headwind out, headwind back. There were significant stretches on the return where we were going 10 mph (not all of them uphill). When you've still got 20 miles to go and all you want to do is get off your bike, that's not a good thing.
92 degrees. Cooler by the time we finished (6:30), but hotter in the hellish, narrow little canyons of the Powder River. No humidity, either. It was the first time ever I was completely covered in salt after a race.
78 miles. Out and back: mostly downhill on the Hells Canyon scenic highway to Richland (pop. 150), then mostly uphill back.
4 hours 20-some minutes. It was that amazing combination of headwind out, headwind back. There were significant stretches on the return where we were going 10 mph (not all of them uphill). When you've still got 20 miles to go and all you want to do is get off your bike, that's not a good thing.
92 degrees. Cooler by the time we finished (6:30), but hotter in the hellish, narrow little canyons of the Powder River. No humidity, either. It was the first time ever I was completely covered in salt after a race.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Zero carbon farming
Wednesday, 20 June
The potatoes are coming along, too. I hear they're "done" when the plants start to bloom. I never know how much to water them, but since they thrive in Ireland, I guess you can't overwater 'em. My daddy and grandma taught me that one of the best early summer foods is fresh peas and new potatoes with a really light cream sauce--I can't wait!
No fossil fuels were burned to bring these raspberries to my cereal bowl. No chemical fertilizers, no electricity, not even any water out of the tap. Even the raspberry canes were given to me by local folks, not raised in some nursery five states away. Guilt free cuisine!
The potatoes are coming along, too. I hear they're "done" when the plants start to bloom. I never know how much to water them, but since they thrive in Ireland, I guess you can't overwater 'em. My daddy and grandma taught me that one of the best early summer foods is fresh peas and new potatoes with a really light cream sauce--I can't wait!Sunday, June 17, 2007
Ring around the volcano
Fathers Day
Happy Fathers Day, all you dads out there!
Just slightly lower on the scale of important events today was the Mt. Tabor Circuit Race in Portland. This is the only bike race I know of around the cone of an (extinct) volcano. I'm not exactly sure where that landmark is on the course, but they hype it up a lot. Other features of this almost-crit are 136 feet of climbing per 1.3-mile lap, a lot of fast descending with an almost-hairpin, decreasing radius turn toward the bottom, and a (short) flat spot in the middle of the climb where the start/finish is. There's a midweek series here ("Velo on the Volcano"), so all the local riders know what line to take, etc. It's a good course, safe (no cars--it's in the middle of a park), and good spectating. Oh, yeah, it's fun too--in the usual painful sort of way. If you want to see the course, some helmet-cam footage from the cat 3 men's race will eventually be posted on Kenji's blog.
We were looking for coffee and maybe some breakfast on our way to the race and came upon the Sweetness Bakery and Cafe. It's so new it doesn't seem to have its own website, but the coconut banana muffins are worth going out of your way to find. The cinnamon rolls looked decadent, but I managed to resist. I did get a second muffin, though, to snack on during the day.
Turns out coconut and bananas and coffee are a good combo for prerace food. My first race of the day was masters women. If you know me, you know that a few elements of the course description above sort of play to my weaknesses, so I didn't have any grand hopes. Second time up the hill the race split, with just three of us in the break. Also in the break were a woman I didn't know and Jenny from Medford who puts men to shame at the Mt. Hood hillclimb. I managed somehow to win not only the sprint for the prime, but also the sprint at the finish.
After sitting around for the better part of 2 hours, I got to race again with the senior women. My hopes here were even less grand. While the field was too small to be a "who's who" of Oregon racing, it was pretty stacked. And as a way to make up for the zero prize list (the race is a fundraiser for junior racing), we had a prime every lap. Still, it turned into a bizarre race: it was 1.25 miles of pedaling around the course followed by 200m of racing for the line. Not to my surprise, I got gapped off the second time up the climb...but I caught back on at the base of the climb a lap later. In total, I caught back on three times during the race, including on the last lap. However, when Melissa launched her final effort at 225m, I could only watch as first Tina and then Hilary tried to go too. Funny thing was that the gaps that were established by 200m didn't change all the way to the finish and nobody came around anybody else.
It was a fun day...no crashes, no rain, and 2 hats made. No tandem race on this course this year, but since tandems would probably hit 45-50 on that descent, my nerves were probably better off without that thrill. I also got to check out a couple of knitted hats two riders bought yesterday at the Eugene Saturday Market. They looked, well, very Eugene.
Happy Fathers Day, all you dads out there!
Just slightly lower on the scale of important events today was the Mt. Tabor Circuit Race in Portland. This is the only bike race I know of around the cone of an (extinct) volcano. I'm not exactly sure where that landmark is on the course, but they hype it up a lot. Other features of this almost-crit are 136 feet of climbing per 1.3-mile lap, a lot of fast descending with an almost-hairpin, decreasing radius turn toward the bottom, and a (short) flat spot in the middle of the climb where the start/finish is. There's a midweek series here ("Velo on the Volcano"), so all the local riders know what line to take, etc. It's a good course, safe (no cars--it's in the middle of a park), and good spectating. Oh, yeah, it's fun too--in the usual painful sort of way. If you want to see the course, some helmet-cam footage from the cat 3 men's race will eventually be posted on Kenji's blog.
We were looking for coffee and maybe some breakfast on our way to the race and came upon the Sweetness Bakery and Cafe. It's so new it doesn't seem to have its own website, but the coconut banana muffins are worth going out of your way to find. The cinnamon rolls looked decadent, but I managed to resist. I did get a second muffin, though, to snack on during the day.
Turns out coconut and bananas and coffee are a good combo for prerace food. My first race of the day was masters women. If you know me, you know that a few elements of the course description above sort of play to my weaknesses, so I didn't have any grand hopes. Second time up the hill the race split, with just three of us in the break. Also in the break were a woman I didn't know and Jenny from Medford who puts men to shame at the Mt. Hood hillclimb. I managed somehow to win not only the sprint for the prime, but also the sprint at the finish.
After sitting around for the better part of 2 hours, I got to race again with the senior women. My hopes here were even less grand. While the field was too small to be a "who's who" of Oregon racing, it was pretty stacked. And as a way to make up for the zero prize list (the race is a fundraiser for junior racing), we had a prime every lap. Still, it turned into a bizarre race: it was 1.25 miles of pedaling around the course followed by 200m of racing for the line. Not to my surprise, I got gapped off the second time up the climb...but I caught back on at the base of the climb a lap later. In total, I caught back on three times during the race, including on the last lap. However, when Melissa launched her final effort at 225m, I could only watch as first Tina and then Hilary tried to go too. Funny thing was that the gaps that were established by 200m didn't change all the way to the finish and nobody came around anybody else.
It was a fun day...no crashes, no rain, and 2 hats made. No tandem race on this course this year, but since tandems would probably hit 45-50 on that descent, my nerves were probably better off without that thrill. I also got to check out a couple of knitted hats two riders bought yesterday at the Eugene Saturday Market. They looked, well, very Eugene.
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