Trusting an old friend

It's been a while since I rode outdoors, let alone solo. But on Thanksgiving Day, just about the time most people were sitting down to their enormous feasts, I set out on a spontaneous ride. With no clue of the route I'd take or how long I would ride, I inflated the tires of my trusty Trek, jammed some gel & shot blocks in my pocket, filled the water bottles, and set out into the cold. The sun was out earlier but I quickly discovered that it was much colder than I had anticipated. Clad only in a Sugoi baselayer, long sleeved jersey, vest & knickers, but with 2 pairs of wool socks, I didn't warm up as much as I would have liked. But I figured that would just make me ride harder, make it count. Right?

Thoughts invade my mind as I pedal, across TV Highway and onto River Road. Got the pump, spare tubes. I have my cell phone. Does anyone know where I'm going? No, even I don't know the answer to that. Wow, there's a lot of gravel and stuff in the bike lane, good thing there's not much car traffic. I'm cold. Pedal harder. I'll be fine, because I trust my bike. It's like an old friend, when we get together, I'm reminded of all the good times we've had. I remember my first ride on this bike, a 70 mile LiveStrong challenge, then my first century. Good times. I smile.

What's great about riding solo is that you can go as fast or a slow as you want, without having to wait for anyone else (or have them wait for you). No forced listening to conversations you have no interest in. No worrying about yelling "car back" to people in front of you or having it yelled at the person who continues to ride next to you and talk to you as you wish for solitude.

Solo. That word has come to define part of who I am. On holidays, and sometimes, on bike rides. But it's a good thing. It's okay. I'm okay with it. I do some of my best thinking on these rides.

So I decide to pass the time thinking of what I'm grateful for. Seems like a good tradition on a Thanksgiving ride. First I think of my lungs, as they fill with air and oxygen to fuel my body. Lungs are good. Then, my legs, working like pistons, knees up, light on the pedals. Then I'm grateful for the turkey bacon and pumpkin pancakes I made for breakfast, for a kitchen to cook them in, for the ability to ride and to enjoy this day.

On Burkhalter Road, I stop to eat some gel, as I'm getting hungry and wishing I had eaten a bit more before leaving so late in the day. I look up at the sun filtered through hazy clouds and give it credit for at least trying to shine through them to bring some warmth. I don't want to wait long because I'm still cold. I consider crossing Highway 47 on Simpson Road, riding past the golf course and back through Cornelius and estimate how much time this will take. On a warmer day, maybe starting earlier, or wearing another layer, this would be a no brainer. But on this day, I decide to cut the ride short and continue to Hillsboro on Minter Bridge Road. I know this is the right thing to do.

I stop to talk to some pygmy goats along the road, who are bleating at me through the chainlink fence. They are incredibly cute! I feed them some handfuls of grass until the dogs start barking at the unwelcome intruder, and I continue on. I get to Main Street, which turns into Baseline. I consider making the ride longer, but at this point I can only think about hot chocolate.

Arriving home, I patiently enter the code to open my garage door but it refuses to comply. I consider how miserable it would be to spend hours shivering on my front porch, and contemplate breaking into my house. The thermometer on my porch says about 38 degrees if I read it right. Just as I take a tire lever to pry the screen off a window, I try the code once more and the door opens. Warmth, hot chocolate, a down blanket, a hot bubble bath. Then a delicious meal.

This is my Thanksgiving.

Training with Grain

Last week, I came across this on the Bob's Red Mill website after seeing it on Twitter: "Train with Grain: Welcome Aboard the Pain Train". I like the sound of that! Turns out, there is this cool contest where you can win a 'cross bike for racing - AND - they send you a free sample kit! Sign me up! This morning I went to my mailbox and there it was!
It was like my birthday, or Christmas! I opened the box, so excited to see what was inside. An armband to wear when I race! And this is no wimpy sample pack - there were regular-sized packages of quinoa, 7-grain pancake & waffle mix, steel cut oats, and whole ground flaxseed meal. Score!

This company does things right. Social media, recipe contests, blogging. And they are a sponsor of the cross crusade. How can you not love them?

If you want some great healthy grains, love to race 'cross and want a chance to win a bike, check out this site: http://www.bobsredmill.com/blog/category/train-with-grain/. Good luck, and enjoy the grain - but the bike is MINE!

Cross Season, Flo-style

After all that hesitation, I showed up at PIR with my bike last Sunday, and I rode it. In the mud. Lots and lots of mud. And I had the best time! I was apprehensive but didn't want to pre-ride the course - no, I'd get too tired. The weather was wet, windy and fortunately, not too cold. I had run out of excuses - I had skinny tires on my bike, thanks to Victor! So I signed up. Pinned on a number. Sort of warmed up. Lined up. And I raced! Okay, I rode. And I had a blast!

I wasn't fast, and the first lap kind of hurt. I didn't crash, but just kept pedaling around the corners, through the mud and the puddles that were really small ponds. The water was warm in my shoes. I didn't really run up the run-ups. I hucked that heavy bike over the barriers, one tire at a time. I heard my name everywhere and didn't look up but I wondered, how do so many people here know me? I heard cowbells. I saw the face of a little girl cheering for me as I rode by, which made me smile. I tried to go faster on the pavement. I cheered for Traci, Sherry, Sierra, Kendra, and Heidi when they passed me. I managed to do 3 laps and was ecstatic to see the flag signaling the end of the race.

I caught up with Melanie, Kendra, and Tina after the race to catch our breath, pose for pictures and swap stories about the course. I felt great, like I had actually accomplished something. Who cares if I was almost last? What matters is that I had fun.

I wasn't up for paying for 2 days of racing in Astoria. I signed up for Sunday and showed up in my costume, which I'd been really excited about for months (Thanks to Traci for finding it on Etsy!). Then I saw Melanie & Kendra, who informed me that they'd decided not to race. I promptly declared that if they weren't racing, neither was I. But in the team tent, when people asked if I was racing, I answered with a shrug. As it got closer to the start time, I reluctantly agreed to ride one lap. Sure, I can do one lap. I rode over and lined up literally 2 minutes before they started sending off groups of women. Finally, the start, left turn, then right, into the mud, past the PV tent, left and over the barriers, and suddenly we were being told to slow and stop. There had been a crash, so they re-started all the women. So, I did ride an entire lap and then some. Past the place where they stopped us, I coasted past Ali and promptly fell on the off-camber turn. Couldn't unclip from my right pedal! Argh. I made it and struggled to get up the long hill, then I think I wiped out again on the sharp z-turn. Wound my way through the barns, spotting Kender with my camera yelling "Come on, Flo!" which made me laugh. When I got to the PV tent again, I pulled over and put my bike down, unnoticed. It was no big deal, I just decided I was done.

I'll post pictures later.

Energized.

I have a fear of commitment. Many people who know me can vouch for this. I'm talking about racing. On two wheels.

It pains me to register for a ride in advance. I don't have an OBRA number. I don't commit to many events ahead of time. When I do, it's like I have a panic attack in advance and all the self-doubt creeps up into my gut at once.

PIR? No, I can't get there early enough. Blind date? Darn, I have a "Ride with Power" class at the NW Athlete's lounge that I've paid for in advance. Cross Crusade? Oh, maybe. But I have a big heavy mountain bike. Cross bike? No, can't commit the funds, and anyway, can't justify it because I don't commit to racing.

Racing? Me? Nah.... more like "participating". But that's okay. I recall a conversation with Russell Cree at Alpenrose 2 years ago. I told him I don't have the competitive drive which he called "eye of the tiger". Nope, don't have it. I saw the game faces yesterday at Rainier, the focus, the determination. How do they keep riding when people are screaming at them, ringing cowbells and yelling? Oh - I get it - that is supposed to encourage them! I vaguely remember from the first time I "rode" at Hillsboro - that yelling made me pedal harder, I got a charge out of hearing my name, and it made me both happy and self conscious at the same time. I'm not comfortable with all that attention, so I thought I can't let them down, they're cheering for me! That pressure. I couldn't take it last year, couldn't get up the courage to participate, so I didn't. I wasn't even in the right frame of mind to show up & socialize. Lame. This year, well, I think it's time to commit. People ask, are you racing? Are you going to race? Which races will you do? Oh... I mutter something about how I haven't thought about it, I didn't buy a cross bike, then I change the subject.

I love showing up at 'cross races and seeing so many people I know, even on various teams. They are all having a great time no matter how their particular races go. It's about fun. It's not serious competition (at least not for me). I like what Einar says - when asked how his race went: "I finished".

I've been thinking about triathlons recently. It was something I wanted to do when I turned 50, but couldn't commit. So, is it too late? I hate running, I tell everyone. But last week, to burn off some stress on one of my walks, I challenged myself - run just to the end of that street, I thought. So I did. No pain, no burning desire to stop. Felt kind of good, even. Hmmm. This isn't so bad. So I am seriously considering checking into a short distance (sprint?) tri for next season. Stay tuned - because I haven't committed to anything yet, I reserve the right to say that I never said any of this.

Hood River Harvest Ride

Riding for joy

Today was a perfect day to rediscover the joy I experience while riding a bicycle. The perfect confluence of crystal clear blue skies, warm temperatures, and smooth roads.

My ears soak up the sounds of a bird announcing our invasion of the quiet, the whirr of my chain, the clicking of flying insects, the pound of a hammer, my breathing as I climb Cooper Spur. My eyes absorb filtered sunshine, glimpses of Mt. Hood through the trees, a furry caterpillar scooting across the road, a stick which suddenly becomes a cricket and hops away just before going under my front tire, the golden vine maples among the green ferns.

This is what I love about cycling. This day is not about getting to camp, or the next rest stop, or riding a certain number of miles, or getting home by a certain time. This is about savoring every second, every minute, and every hour in the saddle, the air in the lungs, the burn in the legs, the sun on the skin. These are the sensations that will sustain me as I ride through the winter, during rides in the rain and cold. I will remember the warmth, the wind in my ears, and the sounds of this day when I am riding a fendered bike and bundled from head to toe.

All stress and work and financial worries and family issues disappear. My mind focuses only on the road, the handlebars, and the beauty around me. Bliss.

Cycle Oregon 2010: rain, rollers & recovery

Reader's Digest version:
Day 0, Portland to Elgin: Pack, drive 5 hours, freeze in tent, try to sleep.
Day 1, Elgin to Enterprise: cold, not enough bluerooms, warm sun, paceline. Skipped option to see Wallowa lake (regrettably). Beautiful golf course for camp. Gorgeous sunset.
Day 2, Enterprise to Clarkston: Gradual climb, winding descent, skipped rest stop (bad call), long, endless climb, great views. Finally lunch before fast gradual downhill, then fast winding downhill into Clarkston. Marching band. Skipped option to Lewiston.
Day 3, Clarkston to Waitsburg: Ride along the Snake river. Paceline with Rich & Karen. Flat just before lunch.
Day 4, Waitsburg-Walla Walla loop: wheatfields, rollers. Great lunch & best hazelnut latte ever.
Day 5, Waitsburg to Pendleton: wheatfields, massive rollers. Sidis trashed by gravel at rest stops. Exhausted & cranky. Sprinklers on football field blast my tent. Lovely.
Day 6, Pendleton: Awoke to rain. Ride? No thanks. Parade. Fantastic bistro lunch. Massage. Wine.
Day 7, Pendleton to Elgin: 2am thunder, pouring rain, lightning. Anxiety. 5:30am, partly cloudy skies. Happy to pack wet tent. Ride squeaky Bike Friday guy off wheel. Great band at lunch rest stop prior to climb. Climb climb climb climb. 6600 feet! Relief at summit, fantastic singing downhill to Elgin. Done.

Longer version:
So, Cycle Oregon #2 is in the books. Did I ever question that I could ride it? No. Did I enjoy every minute? Certainly not. Can I do better in terms of packing & managing my time to get the most enjoyment out of the week? Absolutely.

I'd say the keys to enjoying Cycle Oregon are planning and recovery. You must plan to bring the appropriate clothing and gear, be prepared for any weather, and structure your days to get the most enjoyment out of the ride. That means be prepared, ride at your own pace, and give yourself time to relax. Sounds simple, but trust me, this is not an easy thing.

In reality, it's tough, considering some of the routes are long and challenging, and when you stop to fill your water bottles, eat, use the blue rooms and stretch a couple of times along the way, you may not arrive in camp until late afternoon. Then there is the business of finding your luggage, locating your camping "crew", and setting up your tent. Next is hitting the showers. Then dinner, by which time I am usually starving, so I try to find time to grab $5 and get a smoothie from the Ben & Jerry's truck, otherwise I'm running on the chocolate milk handed out by volunteers at the finish line, which is chugged and greatly enjoyed as the most welcome reward ever for riding that day's route.

Last year I said "this isn't a vacation." So this year I planned to get massages, go to yoga, do more exploring, and relax. That didn't happen. The first massage I had scheduled was on Monday, the day we rode over Rattlesnake pass from Enterprise into Clarkston, Washington. What a long ride - and the climbs were relentless. The descents were amazing though, especially the winding roads down into Clarkston. I got into camp at 4:45, not enough time to get my act together, and couldn't find the massage tent anyway. We did manage to take a shuttle into Enterprise for some BBQ ribs one night, but didn't do a whole lot of exploring besides that.

On the plus side, I camped with Dean & his Intel crew who were extremely entertaining, so we had a lot of laughs with them. I had plenty of solitary time on the road, so it was nice to have people to hang out with in camp. My one cranky day was the ride into Pendleton, and after talking to others that day, I wasn't the only one who didn't entirely enjoy the day of endless rollers, no scenery but wheatfields & clouds, and the hill you had to hike in order to camp, retrieve your bags and shower. So we set up camp on the football field, and after relocating 3 times I chose a spot on the edge of the field by the track. Bad call.

After a somewhat uninteresting dinner at 8pm which I merely pushed around the plate, I crawled into my tent with my iPod as company, deciding to keep the crankypants attitude to myself. Just starting to doze off around 9pm, I'm startled by what sounded like a torrential downpour on the roof of my tent. Wait, there's water IN my tent. Now the rainfly on the left side is plastered to the tent, ripped out of the stake, and water pours into the top vent. I quickly close the velcro on both "skylights", exit the tent & in my tights, keens & rain jacket I run to where my bike is standing, yank a stake, lay down the bike, and run back to my tent. Meanwhile my tent neighbor had grabbed a plastic lined cardboard box used for trash and up-ended it over the offending sprinkler to stop the spray. It was like a firehose! People are running around with headlamps, doing what they can to minimize the damage. It's dark, and people are asking if someone has notified Rider Services so they can shut off the water. I am drenched from sitting directly in front of the sprinkler to re-stake my rain fly. I crawl back into my tent to towel off and assess the damage. Not too bad, really. I hang the wet jacket to dry and crawl into my sleeping bag, replace ipod earphones and eventually drift off to sleep.

On Friday, Dean and I went into town after breakfast to watch the parade. It was fun watching the horses, mules, wagons, oxen and rodeo queens ride by. It was humid. Headed back to camp where the crew was getting ready to head for the rodeo, all but Dave who was the only one in our group to do the Pendleton option loop ride. He & I walked back downtown to find a decent meal for lunch, ending up at a bistro across from the steakhouse, which we followed up with a Tillamook cheeseburger at the Burgerville Nomad (2nd lunch) and then found a place to buy wine & chocolate. Thinking everyone would want to go out for dinner, we skipped the steakhouse. Back at camp, the rodeo attendees drifted in and 3 bottles of wine were consumed, with everyone talking until about 11pm which was pretty late considering we usually wake up before sunrise.

2am: I awoke to wind whipping at my tent, followed by torrential rain, and then thunder & lightning. I'm sure everyone was also thinking if the weather continued, Saturday's ride would be nasty. I figured it would be a game day decision. Fortunately we awoke to partly cloudy skies with no hint of storms on the horizon. Last camp breakfast force feeding (Bob's Red Mill oatmeal is my favorite!) Riding east, I got dropped at a stoplight by the group, but found Aleson & Carol. Couldn't stay with Aleson when the road tilted upward, she's just so strong now! Saw Glen & then Dean. Took a couple of photos but not nearly enough. Devoured my 1/2 sandwich & chips at the lunch stop where they had a great band playing songs by Eve 6, Pearl Jam and the Presidents of the United States. Climbed up the slide to toss my gear drop bag into the box, told that if I made the shot, my stuff would go to Elgin, but if I missed, my stuff would go somewhere else. Rode off with lyrics from "Peaches" in my head, energized for the climb ahead. It was long. Relentless. Beautiful forest, breathing in the clean pine air. Legs felt great. I could even shift, stand & comfortably pedal, unweighting alternate legs, no weight on the bars, and I began passing people. The pink signs from the amusing CO crew saying "this is not the top" at each false summit became annoying, followed by one declaring "This is the top - NOT!" Finally, the summit. Took a quick photo and smiled as I passed the sign saying "ALL DOWNHILL"! Cranked it up and let 'er rip! Passed Dean who gave me a thumbs down. Oh no! Turned around to find out what was up, he had a mechanical. Crap! Continued ticking off the miles to Elgin. Finally, a left turn, and there were the CO flags. Cowbells, I hear cowbells! Then I hear Barb yell "it's LINDA!" right turn to cheers, cowbells, photos, hugs, and chocolate milk. Ahhh. I could have ridden another 30 miles.

Barb is amazing. Not only did she and Dean drive us to Elgin, but she took care of my cat Levi all week. Then she got up at some insanely early hour to drive back to Elgin so she could help Emily sell the remaining windchimes that her students made. They are awesome. (I found some when I got home - Barb surprised me! No wonder she wouldn't let me buy any.)

After showers, we had a great dinner in La Grande with Emily, then went to bed early. Woke up early too, did some laundry & went to brunch at Foley Station. Excellent food! Drove home, arriving about 5pm, and Levi purred in my arms for a long time, insisting that I carry him around while he did so.

Next year? I hear the route is entirely in Oregon, and the only hint is that it contains the best 80 miles of roads that CO has never been on. So, we'll see. But I would definitely consider tent & porter or a more luxurious option so that I can enjoy the relaxing as much as the riding.