Autumn Afternoon, Lake Agnes

Along the Superior Hiking Trail near Lutsen, MN. This is from yesterday morning's hike, which was literally a PERFECT day! Sunny, calm and beautiful fall colors. A stark contrast to today's rainy, windy weather.

Speechless? Batman Cave!

Not often I am speechless.Nothing to do with climbing. But this is good.










"The narrow cave, no wider than Alexander is tall, is located in Roca Foradada Mountains in Montserrat, Spain—a location that has inspired this professional Italian Norwegian athlete’s flying dream his whole life. Alexander hopes his success will inspire others not only to ‘climb over their mountains,’ but to also fly right through them!"



http://alexanderpolli.com/

USCG Cutter "Alder"

On my way home today I glanced out over the lake and saw a boat coming through the Susie Islands.... I pulled over and grabbed my camera and attached the telephoto lens. When I looked through the camera and zoomed in on the boat, I could see that it was the United States Coast Guard cutter "Alder", coming from the direction of Thunder Bay. I snapped a few images then went home. Upon some quick research on the internet, I learned that the Alder had gone up to Thunder Bay to break ice for some ships that were still active up there. The Samuel Risley, a Canadian ice breaker that normally handles ice duty in the Thunder Bay harbor, was already busy in Sault St. Marie. How nice of the Alder crew to head up from Duluth and help out in Thunder Bay! When I saw the boat passing through the Susie Islands it was on its way back to Duluth to break ice for the last couple of ships of the season.

Redefining Sunday Mornings

Apologies for the over-abundance of road themed posts lately, but I need to write this down before the details fade, or before I get too embarrassed. This morning, instead of sleeping in like normal people I woke up at 7am to get ready for the Sunday Morning Ride at the Ride Studio Cafe. I have done their Women's Rides, but never the mixed gender Sunday rides. While some have tried to lure me to join, others warned that these rides are faster and more difficult than described. Especially after reading this, I was inclined to believe the latter and sensibly steered clear. So why now? Well, I need to train for the Hell's Gate Hundred and time is running out. And also these people convinced me that I could do it. With a straight face they said: "Oh you can definitely do it." And I believed them - figuring that since they were designated to lead the ride this weekend, they ought to know.




So, could I do it? That really depends of your definition of that concept. I mean,I finished the ride. I didn't crash. I didn't walk uphill. I didn't throw up or cry (though I came close). So in that sense I guess I did it. But it was such a humiliating struggle, that I can hardly think of it as an accomplishment. It was worse even than my first paceline ride last May, when I showed up on a touring bike and everybody else rode racing bikes. Only this time I did not have the "slow bike" excuse - it was all me. At least now I know where I stand.




When I left the house this morning it was 25°F outside with a brutal headwind. Of all the mild Sundays we've had this winter, I just had to choose this one. As I pedaled the 10 miles to the ride's start my eyes were watering and my lungs were burning; doing this was beginning to seem like a terrible idea. But I'd already told people I was coming and didn't want to back out.




As cyclists arrived bundled up and in good spirits, I felt more relaxed.By the time we got ready to ride, it warmed up to 30°F and the sunny morning made me optimistic. "This will be just like the Women's Rides," I told myself, "only with men." There were only 4 of us in the slower group; this was going to be fun and social.




Trying to analyse it in retrospect, I am not sure what exactly made this ride so difficult for me. It was probably a little bit of everything. The speed in itself would have been fine, if it weren't for the headwinds we were continuously assaulted with. The hills would have been fine, if there weren't so many of them. It was also difficult to breathe the cold air while already struggling to breathe from exertion.




Werode 34 miles through the towns of Lexington, Weston, Wayland, Sudbury and Lincoln. We climbed two substantial hills, with lots of littler hills in between. I was without a doubt the weakest member of our group, and on hills this was especially apparent. I wheezed. I whimpered. I swore out loud. I almost fainted from pushing myself to try and keep up. And still I lagged behind. My legs felt like lead.Flats and downhills did not offer much respite, since I had to work harder than everyone else to keep up the pace. My face was bright red from shame and effort.




I employed various coping techniques to get through the ride. At one point, I mentally talked myself through it. "It's okay... Pedal, don't think... Look at the pretty trees... Focus on the wheel in front of you... What doesn't kill you makes you stronger..." After that stopped working, I began to play Bach in my head until the repetitive harpsichord pieces started to feel like a seizure. Then I tried to separate my mind from the physicality of what I was doing, as if it were happening to somebody else. Some time after that delirium set in and I don't remember anymore.




At some point - I think this must have been closer to the beginning - something really cool happened. The faster group caught up with us and "swallowed us" before speeding away. I have never experienced this before and it wasn't the same as merely riding in a group. Suddenly, the faster cyclists were ...everywhere. On my right, on my left, in front, behind - some seemingly no more than an inch away. I felt carried along, swept away - it was scary and exciting at the same time. "Like a school of fish" said a rider in our group later. Is this a taste of what racing is like?




When we finished the ride I could hardly walk. I vaguely recall being hugged and given high-fives as I rapidly chewed a croissant. I had done a Sunday Morning Ride. It was hard, and it was embarrassing, and I will do it again. I rode 55 miles total by the time I got home. Sunday mornings will never be the same.

Poor Van Dora ...

Wednesday, March 7th - - My decision to leave Salt Lake City yesterday morning was made the previous week. I was ready to go after five weeks researching in Genea-Mecca but in hindsight perhaps I should have waited a few more days... I was headed to California but high winds with strong gusts were forecast for all of Nevada (and much of the west) for the next two days. I could take the northern route and get into the snow storm that was predicted and coming towards Salt Lake City. Or I could take the southern route through Las Vegas then west. After checking the weather reports before leaving yesterday morning I decided the safest route would be to go south.



I haven't checked to see what the weather was like along I-80 so I don't know if my chosen route (I-15 south) was the best or safest! But I do know it sure wasn't an easy day of driving! It wasn't too bad until I got about half way to St. George, which is about 300 miles south of Salt Lake City, when the winds really picked up. By the time I got to St. George, it was definitely two-handed white-knuckle driving! Then when I got into Nevada, there were times when visibility was extremely limited due to the blowing sand. There was an amazing amount of tumbleweeds blowing down the highway too, as well as plastic bags and bottles and various other debris.



My “plan” had been to stop at Valley of Fire State Park for the night, which is about 40 miles north of Las Vegas. But there was so much sand and dirt and gravel being blown about that I decided to continue on south. I stopped just north of Las Vegas for gas and had a really rough time trying to stand in one spot to pump the gas.



I made it through Las Vegas before the rush hour and drove the 50 miles or so west to Pahrump where I wimped out and spent the night at a motel. At around five o'clock or so we had a little rain added to the wind and I was glad that I was inside, safe and dry. I learned later on the news that the wind had been steady at about 30 mph most of the day with gusts up to 75 mph – no wonder my right arm and shoulder was sore!





Poor Van Dora. She needs a bath! This is what happens when you drive in blowing sand then a little rain comes along... I didn't really think the van was all that dirty when I got out at the motel. After the rain, all of the other cars in the parking lot were in this same condition, which means that as the rain fell it must have picked up some of the sand and dust in the air. I think it was basically raining mud, at least for a short time.





Van Dora looks worse now than she did traveling on the dirt roads in Alaska!

Last Woman Standing

Pushing my bike uphill, I am high off the ground and high on happiness.




"Look, look! I can stand out of the saddle!"




My riding companion's face registers confusion, then bewildered comprehension.




"Oh my God. You mean all this time you couldn't?!"

"Nope!"




Funny that she hadn't noticed - although many people I ride with don't seem to notice my deficiencies in cycling skills; I guess I find ways to disguise them. But privately I remain acutely aware of those deficiencies. And ever since I started riding as an adult, I've been trying to master this particular "skill" - something most riders seem to take for granted as just being part of riding a bike. Standing up when a gear feels too high is simply the natural thing to do for them. Pedal sitting, pedal standing, what's the difference?




For me there was a big difference. Since childhood, I've had problems with balance and proprioception (the awareness of one's body in space), both of which made riding a bike in anything but a rudimentary manner seem unattainable. 4 years ago, I could hardly swing a leg over a top tube without toppling over. But my irrational love of cycling made me persistent. Things are much better now than they used to be, to the point that I can almost pass for "normal" on a roadbike - all the more reason my few remaining difficulties are so frustrating.




So what was the problem getting out of the saddle?.. The physical memory is disappearing now, but try to imagine this: Whenever I'd try to stand up, I would lose the sense of where I was in relation to both the bike and the ground. Not only did I have no intuitive notion of how to hold my body up when no longer seated, but I'd start to experience general disorientation and mild vertigo. Not surprisingly, these sensations would make me anxious, which in turn made the whole thing worse; a vicious cycle.Verbal instructions from well-meaning riding companions did not help. This was obviously just something I needed to work on myself. And I did keep trying.




But the first break-through came when I wasn't trying at all. It was a couple of months ago. I was riding an Xtracycle Radishone day, up a gentle hill. Just before I was about to reach the top, I stood up and leaned forward instead of downshifting. My mind was elsewhere and the whole thing was unintentional; it just happened. After I realised what I'd done, I was so happy I almost had to pull over on the side of the road to laugh or cry or something. My mind was blown!I tried it again later, this time intentionally. It was not quite as natural as the first time. I was jerky in my movements and my legs grew tired quickly,but for a few pedal strokes at a time it worked.




Several days later came the 300K brevet. I was losing time on a long climb, and in a moment of frustration I tried standing up again so that I could push a bigger gear. This did not feel the same as it did on the Xtracycle and I nearly fell off my bike. After that I decided to give my standing attempts a little rest.




And I did, until one day - on my roadbike in Northern Ireland - it "just happened" again on its own. I simply stood up, absent-mindedly on a short hill. This time I decided to harness whatever impulse had enabled me to do this. Continuing to ride on rolling terrain I stood up again and again, rather than switching gears, until I began to trust that I could do it. After a week of this, I was no longer hesitant or nervous to stand up at will.




A few days ago I pedaled over to County Tyroneto visit a friend. It was a 100 mile day with around 6,000 feet of climbing over the "shoulders" of the Sperrins mountain range. I stood up whenever I wanted, and finally, in the course of this ride, it began to feel as I imagine it's felt to other riders all along - normal.




One thing I realise now, is that in addition to whatever balance issues were involved, another problem was weak legs. At first my legs would start to quiver after just a short time out of the saddle; I felt like one of those newborn colts learning to walk. On a serious hill, I still get worn out quickly when standing. So even though thebalance and proprioceptionproblems are gone, I continue to practice just to develop more leg strength. And finesse. At the moment, my technique is not exactly elegant. I don't throw the bike from side to side needlessly, but my pedal strokes are jerky and awkward compared to how I pedal seated.




As my last two years of roadcycling have shown, it is possible to do even long distance rides without ever standing out of the saddle. And there are, after all, experienced riders who simply prefer not to stand. I do not know whether I am one of them yet. But once I form a preference, it will be exactly that - a preference, and not a limitation.

Roadrunner & Horned Toad

This is the full view of the roadrunner with the horned toad climbing up the tree truck.