Monday, August 20, 2012

Fourteen hours on a bike

     172 miles...finally. For 14 1/2 hours I pedaled my way through the middle of Ohio. From the edge of the North American Interior Plains to the transitional rolling foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.I don't imagine that the effort expended will match even the easiest day on the AML 400 or the TD, but it is noteworthy and tells me I am on the right track. For a route that allows me to start and finish in my driveway there is a decent amount of forest, or otherwise unimproved, road. I estimate about 32 miles worth. Again, it doesn't really come close to what I'll see on the TD, but the hours are starting to get close anyhow.
     The trails I used this past weekend take on a different aspect once I crossed Route 62 near Brinkhaven. A remnant of my childhood, the rundown barn with a faded Mail Pouch ad, is the true demarcation point for the trail's transition to Amish country. The tracks left by my Hutchinsons were quickly erased in the wake of so many horse and buggy passings. When I rolled back through five hours later, all remnants of my ride out were wiped clean. It is truly something special and different. The pace of life feels natural, not rushed. I begin to understand how the things I own really own me. I am very happy to have found the trail from Danville to Glenmont. It was certainly the best part of the ride.
     If I thought there was a big Amish population surrounding Danville, I was absolutely blown away by the vibrant social life in and around the Holmes County Trail I picked up in Killbuck. For fifteen miles the Holmes County Trail winds from Killbuck to Fredericksburg going through Millersburg and Holmesville. It is a multi-use paved trail with enough traffic around the Millersburg area to rival the car traffic on the surrounding roads. The ubiquitous Walmart wasn't more than 100 feet from the trail as I passed through the Millersburg Business District.
     Personally, the truly remarkable thing about all of this is that I covered 102 miles before I had the first hint of a problem. All of my senses were tuned outward soaking up the experience. Usually I'm fighting hand numbness (fixed with Ergon grips), very painful right little toe (fixed with lambswool and some rest apparently), sore back (functional strength training), and a sore butt. That last one bedeviled me for quite a while until I had an epiphany. I sweat a lot and my shorts get wet, not just damp. I recently tried chamois cream but it didn't seem to do much after the first couple of hours. Enter Gold Bond Powder. I've used it for the past decade in my shoes and sometimes after a shower but never during the ride. What a difference! Even after the entire 172 miles, I could have easily ridden 100 more miles in the saddle.
     Unfortunately I did have a problem beginning at the 102-mile mark and it persisted for the next 78 miles. The top and inside part of my right knee started registering an ever-increasing level of pain. No amount of shifting or changing positions provided more than very temporary relief. The only thing I could do was stop, rest, and stretch. Of course, I did this because I've ridden long enough to know that you don't mess around with knee soreness. I admit to being a little baffled as to the cause since nothing on the bike had changed since my last 100+-mile ride. Failing anything else, I have to consider the pedals as the culprit. They are a used pair of Time ATACs. Yes, they are very stable and durable. However, they have a very wide connection point and I find my cleat sliding to the far outside edge of the pedal. The position is so far from normal that my Sidi Dominators warp if I try to move my foot back to level. I am going to try the Shimano PD-M540s and hope for better results.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Back to reality

     So I read Markley Anderson's write-up (http://teamcrank.wordpress.com/) of his Appalachian Mountains Loop (AML) ITT in March. I don't know if reading it will turn out to be good or bad. First of all, the guy wins just about every time he races. Second, he rode the AML straight without sleep, and by doing so set a time that isn't really touchable.
     Now this may be a good thing because it forces me to realize that I will not be able to beat the course record. Instead of riding at a pace that is unrealistic in the hopes of beating a record that is untouchable, I will use this first attempt at an ultra-endurance event to evaluate my kit choices and see how my body responds to the prolonged effort. On normal days eating, drinking, and sleeping can be done for pleasure and without any feeling of necessity. Some of my longer rides (100+) remind me that eating, drinking, and sleeping should be done with purpose. During the AML and later during the TD, it will be absolutely essential.
     On the other hand this may be a bad thing because some of my motivation is sapped knowing that I cannot beat Markley's time. I can tell myself "this is your first attempt," "you can ride it again in the spring," and so on, but it's only so effective.
     Ultimately, it does put the challenge where it should be; on me. I have to do the fastest time I can manage. Holding myself to someone else's standard is almost surely a recipe for disaster. Let's just state this plainly. At best, I will still be carrying 40 pounds of body weight that I still need to lose before the Tour Divide. Getting that extra weight over 30,000 vertical feet will be an accomplishment in itself.
     In other news, the requisite spreadsheet with kit options, cost in weight and dollars, and degree of necessity is shaping up and I'll start pulling the trigger on some purchases. Of course, all of the choices are made with an eye towards using on the Tour Divide. Some of the kit choices I've made so far...

Niterider PRO 1400
Some flashy red rear LED
Revelate Viscacha
Garmin Edge 605
ACA laminated maps
Ray-Way Tarp, Net-Tent, and Quilt
Ergon GP1 grips
Selle Italia TT saddle
One (1) 22-ounce water bottle (for drink mixes)
One (1) 6L Dromedary with Hydration kit
Stoker bar repurposed for additional handlebar space
Generic aero bars
Aleve
Assos chamois cream

I haven't decided on a frame bag/bar bag combo or backpack. My plan for the AML is to save weight by dropping extra water bottles, rain gear, any extra clothing, and minimizing bags used since I will be over so much on body weight. I will publish my kit with pictures when I think I have it ready for the AML, probably around the end of September. A full review will follow the AML.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Fear

     I have a confession. I am afraid of the dark. I'm also afraid of being alone in an
unfamiliar place. I know these are not unique fears. Entire movie franchises are built on
them. My problem is there will be plenty of both during the three or so weeks of the
Tour Divide. There are plenty of mitigating options at my disposal if I choose. I could spare myself the loneliness and find a pace that just so happens to keep me in the company of others, but wouldn't I be violating the spirit of the adventure? Do I fear my own thoughts so much that I would rather participate in a rolling group chat than look deeply into the dark places of my mind? It seems like I would be cheating myself out of an incredible opportunity. This is in the forefront of my mind after yesterday's ride.
     Last night I rode for about five hours (three or so in complete darkness) to the
east and northeast of Columbus on roads with which I am familiar. I have not ridden these roads at night. And while it is true that there is nothing there at night that is not also there during the day, the lack of visibility constantly challenges that fact. My imagination kicks in and all sorts of nature (some of it supernatural) lurks in the shadows, waiting. My only defense against the howling fantods is; a, logic, and b, the riding.
     First, logic and its big brother, reason, blow giant holes through the flights of
fancy my primal brain can invent when left to its own devices. Even though others refer to me as "crazy" for my riding habits, I know that any additional risk incurred by riding at night can be mitigated with a few simple preventative measures. Further (and sillier), the weird monster from "Jeepers Creepers", the vampiric child from "Let the Right One In", or David the werewolf from "An American Werewolf in London" (all of which were chasing me at some point last night) are nothing but figments...of flesh and bone that will someday feast on my flesh and blood when I least expect it. SEE?! Ahem, they are figments of my imagination, of course (...not). STOP IT!
     Second, the riding gives me purpose. I don't know why this holds the terror at bay but it does. It may be illusory but the rightness of the purpose, while not protecting me in any way from actual danger, does prioritize the fear. I think this is an important (to me anyhow) point since it reinforces something I've been thinking for a while. Namely, we never really change our basic nature. We can shed some learned behaviors if properly incentivized, and everything else we'd like to change gets a coping mechanism of varying effectiveness. For me, the goal of the Tour Divide helps me cope with the fear and loneliness. I'm far from objective but I'd venture to say it is one of the healthier coping strategies as opposed to say, never going out after dark or never going anywhere by myself. That just hides the problem whereas like an immunization I am dealing with my fears while they are in a weakened state, or maybe I'm in a strengthened state.
     Finally, thank all things good and decent that Nick Drake wrote Hazy Jane. That was the soundtrack in my head last night and was MUCH preferable to the Digital Underground from the previous long ride. I don't often quote song lyrics, but he captures some basic human failures in perhaps the most gentle language I've ever heard. Mentally, it made for a very pleasant ride. For your consideration,

"Do you curse where you come from?
Do you swear in the night?
Would it mean much to you
if I treat you right?

Do you like what you're doing?
Would you do it some more?
Or would you stop once and wonder,
what you're doing it for?

Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that's past?
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast?

Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst?
Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst?"

Have a good day, one and all.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Mind, mind!

     I spend a lot of time thinking. With the increased time spent riding solo, that time has only increased. I don't know if I had any purpose in mind for that increased time spent thinking, but I'm sure that by default I expected to solve the global problems of peace, hunger, and sustainability. Now it bears mentioning that some ideas in my head sound positively crazy when I try to verbalize them. I simply haven't mastered the vocabulary needed to transform some ideas from thought to statement. This past weekend though I have no problem relating what I was thinking about. Yes, the "intellectual" mind of Sean Brinker was caught on multiple occasions regurgitating the lyrics to the "Humpty Dance." Somewhere around mile 80 I started to get annoyed with myself. I tried to substitute other songs, make up a new song, or just generally think about anything else. None of it worked. Like a wheel rut on a muddy road, at the first moment of inattention my brain would slide right back into "that's all right cuz my body's in motion, it s'posed to look like a fit or a convulsion..." If I had to face that for three weeks on the Tour Divide, I'd probably just ride right off a cliff.
     As I try to use each ride as a learning opportunity, Saturday reminded me that the hours I am riding both before and during the event will likely tax my mind as much, if not more, than the body. That's a hard thing to anticipate when so much of the preparation centers around training the body, specifically addressing the known pain points. I now clearly recognize the need to discipline my mind for the task ahead. And it makes perfect sense, no matter how well trained the body is I will fail if the mind makes bad decisions.
     For the day though the ride was good. I logged about 8.5 hours on Saturday, 112 miles, and was not overly fatigued after the ride.  I found a fair amount of unpaved trail, and a review of the map after the ride revealed that there is much more still to explore. Can't wait.

New perspectives

Originally composed on 8/10/12:

     It's funny how things evolve. In my last post, I noted a lack of excitement around the job change. Technologies I know marching to the beat of a different engineer can really introduce a lot of uncertainty. Maybe when I was younger I discounted the effect of the company and overestimated my own ability to conquer any deployment no matter how deficient or haphazard it was. Whatever the reason I was cool (or maybe lukewarm) to the idea of changing jobs. Now here it is Friday and I am beginning to feel the real draw of this new position. For whatever reason (confidence in me or simply too busy to hold the reins) I have been granted nearly carte blanche access with the mission to fix, build, and generally improve where possible.
     I've noticed something similar in my cycling as well but my response to it has been much different. I have always planned my rides. Always. I scour maps looking for new roads but always with the new route is the question of "how long will it take?" That is how my riding is defined...until the preparation for the Tour Divide started. I simply removed a self-imposed limitation to answer the "how long will it take" question. It sounds ridiculous but the proof was immediate albeit anecdotal. The longest ride I had done before I stopped answering the question was 60 miles. The first day I ignored the question? 130 miles. So here is an environment I've known well for 37 years, and finally in my 43rd year I accept the new rules, and the future is finally defined by what might be possible as opposed to what I have done.
     As cheesy as movie lines are sometimes they can clarify a jumbled mess and I love the Morpheus line from The Matrix, "there's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path." From that I have begun telling myself "knowing feeds doing." It doesn't quite get across the pointlessness of knowing for its own sake, but I like the brevity (because usually I am NOT!) and it can always be improved.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Change in place, purpose remains the same

So aside from all of the riding, equipment review, and planning, I started a new job today. It's a return to my core competencies; Windows OS, Windows server applications and VMware. There hasn't been as much excitement for me regarding this move. I guess I'm a little apprehensive having to learn a new environment. And I suppose I'm a little frustrated that things didn't work out at Honda. There seemed to be a lot of genuine sadness at the news that I was leaving. It certainly makes me feel good, but once I left it doesn't count for much; that and $5 will get me a Starbux.

In other news, I'm beginning to put back-to-back long rides together. Three weeks in a row I've had a single long ride of 100 miles or more. I figure it's time to train myself to recover. All of this training I'm doing doesn't follow much of a plan. So I just try to do what seems logical.

Step 1 - ride
Step 2 - ride further
Step 3 - keep going
Step 4 - do it again tomorrow
Step 5 - rest sometimes

I figure this is how I will race, and I've heard you should train how you plan to race. I scared myself a little yesterday as I really started to dig into the Appalachian Mountains Loop maps from the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA). The climbing comes early, often, and in varying degrees of difficulty. Two things; one, I'm about 60 pounds too heavy, and two, there are no significant hills in central Ohio. There are no 15-mile 2% grades or 2-mile 10% climbs. I guess I could set up the road bike on the trainer, stick a cinderblock under the front wheel, crank the resistance to 11, and go for broke. Anyhow, I have eight weeks and change to get myself ready.