Equitorial Crossings

Today I had an awesome ride. I met up with Racer X, Squiggy, and newbie for our regular Wednesday/Friday ride up Calavaras Road.

Temps weren't too bad at 0600 with the marine layer keeping the temp somewhat warmer than the clear skies might otherwise have proferred. It was 56 when I pushed out of the garage to the rally point and dry feeling despite the onshore push of the Pacific scud.

Tuesday night's meal of chicken, chicken and chicken was sitting well in the body--protein was stocked-up and muscles loaded and primed with the energy catalyst. I was stoked; and even 12 hours later, I still feel the echoes of that energized state coursing through me.

I was the last to join up with the group so we quickly set off on the 8 miles of relatively flat road to the sustained climb up Calavaras. Racer X and I set the paceline at a quick cadence and hauled along the flats at 22+ mph. Squiggy sustained it but the newbie was a bit erratic and the pace fell off. Our first small climb wasn't too bad but by mile 6 I was already thinking of breaking out and pushing hard up to my turn-around point at mile 12.5. I was feeling that strong despite pacing with some good riders.

We dropped newbie on the climb and the three of us pushed up the grade with a good pace going. Squiggy was froggy and surged ahead on 2 segments; Racer X was riding his old crate which generated 1 newton of friction for every newton of forward thrust due to it's 18 year old bearings and run-out technology (Dude, lose the bike!). Squiggy gave me the excuse with his bursts on the hill so I reeled him in with some strong climbing runs. The last mile to the turn was a great paced climb. We were sustaining over 12.5 mph and hitting 14 on the 4-6% grades. On the last 1/3 mile I dug down, came out of the saddle and pushed ahead to our rest point. I almost surged too early and was hitting redline by the top of the hill. Squiggy and then Racer-X pulled up and we shot the shit, downed some water and power bars while awaiting newbie. Two strong riders came up before him and we exchanged pleasantries while the sun's early morning rays began to break down the fog above us and light up the hills with the California's real gold.

With newbie's arrival, the rest of the crew continued towards work in San Jose 16 miles ahead, while I pointed my bike back down the hill towards home. I opened it up and hit the turns at 25-30mph; giddy with tight turns and the clingy grip, and crisp, responsive lines my bike provided despite my inexpert technique. I hammered the flats and slight climbs back towards home where I arrived just 1:24 after starting out. I just missed an average ride speed of 18mph for the out and back.

Tomorrow, I'll hit the trail for a medium length run. Perhaps 7, maybe more depending on the route. Maybe I'll cut down to the flats instead of taking to the ridge trails. I don't know. Not sure I care yet. I'm not yet becalmed, but I'm on the equator where the winds die down and the sailing breeze is erratic. My course isn't yet set--no immediate goals, no objectives yet in sight-- so training has no real bearing to steer. The mid-latititude trade winds which propel adventurers are ahead. I'm just not yet sure of where the X on the map yet lies. I need Capt Jack Sparrow's infamous compass. It'll come..... yo ho, yo ho a Pirate's life for me....

Streets of San Francisco

Business had me in the "City" this last week; "Running Tourism" gave me the chance to it in a unique manner.

My hotel was off of Union Square and a mile down Market Street to the Embarcadero. At 0530 I had the streets to myself, or so it seemed, save for a the pre-work day preps of shop keepers sweeping or hosing down the walkways, construction crews erecting barricades or removing them from last night's work, and a few early commuters.

The wind was brisk and the air wet and cold but the sky relatively clear. No infamous San Francisco marine layer this morning. The first mile took me down through the Financial District and by the Ferry Terminal, I was starting to feel the self-generated heat taking the edge off the cold wind. Turning up the Embarcadero I now fronted the Bay and the morning dawn and it's shadows made Alcatrez Island appear like ship at anchor. Passing Fisherman's Wharf, the wind kept up its steady blow which, as indicated by the whitecaps in the Bay, probably was a steady 15 knots.

I reached my half-way point at Chrissy Field and stopped to take in the Golden Gate as the sun cracked the eastern horizon and truly made it live up to its name. One last look and then I turned with a tail-wind for the return trip.

A few more joggers and a few more commuters on the way back. With the brisk wind I was howling along, as well. My pace was somewhere in the low 7min and I finished the 8 miles just under an hour. Not quite the Bay to Breakers but a great Bay tour none the less.

Miles

My training routine has been in somewhat of a flux since the Challenge. I'm missing a goal to coalesce training objectives around so in the meantime, I've been doing what has just been fun.

That means I've been getting a lot more riding in on the bikes (road and mountain). And, man that's been great.

What is it about riding that makes it so liberating?

The last two weeks have seen Wednesday and Friday rides with Racer X and a cast of others who've taken up commuting into the Silicon Valley via Calavaras Road (a leg on the Amgen Tour of California). It's a beautiful ride on a seldom traveled-by-vehicles road. From my house, I join up with the riders at 0600 and put in 12.5 to 17.5 miles to the half way mark before I turn back. We crank it out with each rider taking turns pulling the line until we reach the 7 mile climb to the top of the ridgeline crest which separates the Tri-Valley from the Silicon one. Then the pace line disassembles and the climb becomes a line abreast and a time of communion.

There is pure joy in pedaling. Each turn of the crank is speed generated solely from the tuned output of the thighs and calves. The stronger the will, the longer the training, the higher the output. Cadence is the god; the Heart is the governor; Will is the engine. A pace line is about trust. It's about believing the guy 3 inches off your wheel knows what he's doing. It takes time to settle into the line; it takes trust to maintain it. Pedal. Breathe. Focus. Pedal. Speed.

Why doesn't everybody ride?

The Joy of Walking

These are the little maniacs and they remind me why trails can be fun even when they aren't run or ridden on.

They are pictured here discovering a bounty of lady bugs that are feeding on the aphids covering spring's fresh grass and wild flowers. In one 3 foot section there must have been a couple dozen clinging to stalks. 5 minutes later a dozen were covering the little maniacs arms and hands. They loved it. The lady bugs were not available for comment, but I'll assume they didn't mind too much.

It took us nearly an hour and a half to cover what normally would have taken me 10 minutes on a run. We discovered funneled spider webs with patient but immensely shy spiders within. A Red Tail Hawk circled and eyed us warily as we passed her nest in the citadel of a lone oak with a strategic view of the valley below us. My oldest maniac proudly pointed out owl scat. Our trail meandered through the oak studded hills that are the home of the rare and endangered Callippe Silverspot Butterfly. We saw many moths, a few lizards, magpies, Red-wing Blackbirds, buzzards, and many sparrow, but no butterflies.

It was a wonderful workout.