A cycling fathers dream. My son got rid of training wheels today. I am so proud. This makes us a completely (short range) self powered mobile family. We have actually had that distinction before but I was always providing power for 2 or more. Pardon the wind noise in the video.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Solvang Century 2010
I rode the Solvang Century this weekend (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/27026149). Definitely the hardest of the four century rides I have done so far. I fought wind, hills, cold and rough roads and at one point thought I would quit. I persevered and finished with legs that would barely make me move. Any time the ground turned up at all I went for my bailout gear (that really easy gear you use when you need to be bailed out). Sometimes when this happened I realized I was already in that gear.
The first 25 miles seemed easy. There were some uphill spots but it was generally downhill. Even with a headwind I felt fast. The first rest stop at Lompoc is when the hills really started and I realized I was going to have a long day. Usually I am comfortable on hills but this day my legs just wouldn't respond. They felt tired and weak.
Coming out of Lompoc I got in with a fast group. They were fast, rode close together and shifted around a lot in their group. It was a lot like being in a race. Good to follow along with but if you are not comfortable and relaxed it can end badly. Some other guy came past me and cut in too early. His hip hit my hand hard enough to twist my handlebars around. I lurched around a bit before I finally regained control. The guy behind me yelled at him. I was too busy focusing on staying on two wheels.
Miles 25 to 40 were basically two big hills between Lompoc and where the 135 hit highway 1. Normally I eat up hills like these so when I found myself struggling to reach the top I realized it was going to be a long day.
Miles 40 through 50 went by quickly. It was downhill and I had a small group to keep me company and shelter me from the wind. However when it started back uphill they left me behind and I spent the next miles struggling alone in the wind. I can't even really call the slope a hill. It was so gradual you really couldn't tell by looking at it. When I got to mile 65 where the route crosses over Highway 101 I had to stop. I was tired and cold. My knees ached because my legs never warmed up. I couldn't stretch it out, all I could do was keep going.
The wind never let up until the last part of the ride. Even then it was still blowing, just finally from behind. It shifted from northwest to northeast during the ride so that even without a direct headwind it was enough to slow you down and push you around. Worse yet, on the gradual downhill portions it was enough to make them seem flat or even slightly uphill so there was no rest.
The road on most of the ride was rough. At times I rode on the painted stripes because it was the only smooth part. Rough roads cause fatigue, especially in the arms and shoulders. Shoulder stiffness affects the back and when the back stiffens up it takes the hamstrings with it. This wasn't Paris Roubaix cobblestones but it was more than enough on top of everything else.
65 to 70 was a long fast descent through beautiful country. Mile 70 started a gradual ascent winding through farms and vineyards. The gradual bit ended at mile 80 where it turned decidedly upward. The guy next to me asked me if this was the "Wall". I said I didn't know but I hoped so. I didn't want to see anything steeper. At least that is what I meant to say. What I actually said was a jumbled up version of the above and I remember thinking my brain must be deprived of oxygen.
We got to the top and started a long descent. I was feeling good thinking I was home free. Just a cruise back to Solvang. This illusion was shattered when I saw a woman on the side of the signalling me to turn left. She didn't look official so I slowed and asked her if the ride was supposed to turn here. "Yes," she said, "This is the Wall". My heart sank, I shifted to my bail out gear, looked at the tarmac just in front of my tire and pedaled. It was short but steep and seemed like it would never end. When it finally did we were rewarded with a spectacular view and a fast descent.
Ignoring the lesson I had just learned I let myself think it was all over. Right after highway 154 I got hit with switchbacks. Nobody makes switchbacks just for fun. The only reason is to get up a hill that is too steep to build a straight road up. Switchbacks always mean pain. Normally I don't mind this (all endurance athletes are masochistic to a degree) but today I was ready to be finished. I went right back to the bailout gear, put my head down again and kept pushing.
The heart rate graph really tells it all. Normally if I am climbing hard my heart rate will be between 175 and 185. The fact that it only once gets above 170 after mile 50 means my legs just didn't have the strength this day.
I really don't know what keeps me going during these things. I am too stupid or too stubborn to quit. There is a van that will pick you up and take you to the finish. You can get off any time and get a ride home. At any rate I kept going and finally did finish. I was exhausted and sore. I put my stuff away and changed then sat in my car for a bit just relaxing before I started the three hour drive back home.
The first 25 miles seemed easy. There were some uphill spots but it was generally downhill. Even with a headwind I felt fast. The first rest stop at Lompoc is when the hills really started and I realized I was going to have a long day. Usually I am comfortable on hills but this day my legs just wouldn't respond. They felt tired and weak.
Coming out of Lompoc I got in with a fast group. They were fast, rode close together and shifted around a lot in their group. It was a lot like being in a race. Good to follow along with but if you are not comfortable and relaxed it can end badly. Some other guy came past me and cut in too early. His hip hit my hand hard enough to twist my handlebars around. I lurched around a bit before I finally regained control. The guy behind me yelled at him. I was too busy focusing on staying on two wheels.
Miles 25 to 40 were basically two big hills between Lompoc and where the 135 hit highway 1. Normally I eat up hills like these so when I found myself struggling to reach the top I realized it was going to be a long day.
Miles 40 through 50 went by quickly. It was downhill and I had a small group to keep me company and shelter me from the wind. However when it started back uphill they left me behind and I spent the next miles struggling alone in the wind. I can't even really call the slope a hill. It was so gradual you really couldn't tell by looking at it. When I got to mile 65 where the route crosses over Highway 101 I had to stop. I was tired and cold. My knees ached because my legs never warmed up. I couldn't stretch it out, all I could do was keep going.
The wind never let up until the last part of the ride. Even then it was still blowing, just finally from behind. It shifted from northwest to northeast during the ride so that even without a direct headwind it was enough to slow you down and push you around. Worse yet, on the gradual downhill portions it was enough to make them seem flat or even slightly uphill so there was no rest.
The road on most of the ride was rough. At times I rode on the painted stripes because it was the only smooth part. Rough roads cause fatigue, especially in the arms and shoulders. Shoulder stiffness affects the back and when the back stiffens up it takes the hamstrings with it. This wasn't Paris Roubaix cobblestones but it was more than enough on top of everything else.
65 to 70 was a long fast descent through beautiful country. Mile 70 started a gradual ascent winding through farms and vineyards. The gradual bit ended at mile 80 where it turned decidedly upward. The guy next to me asked me if this was the "Wall". I said I didn't know but I hoped so. I didn't want to see anything steeper. At least that is what I meant to say. What I actually said was a jumbled up version of the above and I remember thinking my brain must be deprived of oxygen.
We got to the top and started a long descent. I was feeling good thinking I was home free. Just a cruise back to Solvang. This illusion was shattered when I saw a woman on the side of the signalling me to turn left. She didn't look official so I slowed and asked her if the ride was supposed to turn here. "Yes," she said, "This is the Wall". My heart sank, I shifted to my bail out gear, looked at the tarmac just in front of my tire and pedaled. It was short but steep and seemed like it would never end. When it finally did we were rewarded with a spectacular view and a fast descent.
Ignoring the lesson I had just learned I let myself think it was all over. Right after highway 154 I got hit with switchbacks. Nobody makes switchbacks just for fun. The only reason is to get up a hill that is too steep to build a straight road up. Switchbacks always mean pain. Normally I don't mind this (all endurance athletes are masochistic to a degree) but today I was ready to be finished. I went right back to the bailout gear, put my head down again and kept pushing.
The heart rate graph really tells it all. Normally if I am climbing hard my heart rate will be between 175 and 185. The fact that it only once gets above 170 after mile 50 means my legs just didn't have the strength this day.
I really don't know what keeps me going during these things. I am too stupid or too stubborn to quit. There is a van that will pick you up and take you to the finish. You can get off any time and get a ride home. At any rate I kept going and finally did finish. I was exhausted and sore. I put my stuff away and changed then sat in my car for a bit just relaxing before I started the three hour drive back home.
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