Spring Preview

So, we live on Cape Ann, about 40 miles north of Boston. You can google it if you want, I'm having image issues. You see Cape Cod jutting way out in the ocean, and then the little tiny nub of Cape Ann on the North Shore. It's hardly fair to classify it in the same category as Cape Cod, but there you have it. Technically Gloucester is an island, that it shares with the tiny, artsy, touristy town of Rockport. They are separated from the rest of Cape Ann by the Annisquam River, and you have to drive over one of two bridges to get to it. I'm only going into all of this because I got to ride outside this week because it was so nice and sunny and warm(ish) and I did one of my favorite road rides around here. This involves riding around the island. Here. I've illustrated my ride on a map for you.

Now, technically we live in West Gloucester, so we're not on the island. That's why my loop has a little tail. Anyway, it's a gorgeous ride with lots of ocean views, so I tried to take lots of pictures so when it gets nasty out again (tomorrow) I can remember what the sunshine was like.

See? When it's sunny out there are shadows. Much like the eponymous ground hog it can be rather startling to see it after two months of nothing.

I'm joking of course.

Fishing boat in Rockport.

Harbor in Rockport. Lobsta traps on the left there.

The ocean, cruising through East Gloucester.

Okay, I guess that's all I got. Today it's cold and windy out and I want to go ride outside because it's also sunny, but it's just so flipping cold. Maybe trainer, maybe I'll just suck it up and go freeze.

I found out the other day that there is some good mountain biking down on Cape Cod, and it's generally about 10 degrees warmer there than here and they don't get as much snow, so the trails are supposed to be open right now! So I'm planning a trip (it's only 1.5 hrs or so) down there to find some singletrack. Yes.

Just need to keep telling myself that it's almost March, and spring will get here soon enough.

Today

I haven't ridden outside since I got back from Reno. I know, that's way too long. I've been running lots, and lifting weights, and doing some spinning, but no riding outside. I've gone snowboarding twice, once in the backcountry up in New Hampshire, and once at a little tiny hill called Nashoba that makes Boreal look like Squaw. Yesterday I ran down to Wingaersheek beach, about 5 miles, and did a boot camp workout in the wet sand - it was just above freezing out. I waited until the tide had started to go out so I could find some beach free of snow. Yeah.

That was hard, and now my hamstrings and shoulders are cursing me for doing so many lunges and pushups. But at least I got outside!

But today! Today I am going to ride outside. Our 1/4 mile long driveway is an ice skating rink, so I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get to the end of it. It's supposed to snow again tomorrow, but TODAY I'm riding outside. About time.

I hate thinking up titles to these things . . .

The East . . .

. . . vs. the West.

I feel like I should always come up with this clever little title, but I always totally fail. Whatever.

The blog has been so very neglected, and I can't even blame it on Facebook, because that, too, has seen little of me lately. Unlike my previous "where have I been" blog-post-life-updates, I don't have much going on so this is going to be really boring.

Why, oh why, when the West coast is getting ramped up for such late winter epics as Snelling and Merco do I still have no base, to speak of? To fully understand you would have to spend a couple weeks mid-January in New England. We've scarcely had a day without precipitation (mostly in the form of snow) in two+ weeks, and on those rare clear days it's pretty much arctic. Yesterday when I woke up it was -10 F with the windchill. Rad-tastic.

I'm going to share with you my hard-learned lesson of the winter 2010-2011: When faced with such inhospitable conditions as the Nor'east offers from December-March (hopefully) one ought to find joy in pursuits that do not involve wearing spandex and moving at increased rates of speed. One can wear spandex, or one can move quickly, but they should be mutually exclusive. And honestly I haven't done much of the former.

Not sure what else to elaborate on. I could get into how our X-mas/New Year etc. went (it was good), but it's been like, a month and I don't really feel like it. I got to go home for a week to visit with my family. I happened to go home when they were having 65 degree weather and I got a nice dose of sunshine, and got in a lot of biking. That was pretty much rad. It was good to see my folks and Reno and California again. But, I'm glad I moved.

I know, what the hell, right? But it was time for a change, you know? And sure, I could have just moved to Santa Cruz (oh please oh please oh please some day) but that wouldn't be enough change for me to really feel like I made a change. Or so I postulate, while awaiting the dumping 0f 10 inches of snow that we're supposed to get tonight. Le sigh. Anyway, as much as I love Reno and the west coast, this is a good experience, and all in all I'm glad we made the move, regardless of my wishes to return west in a number of years.

Anyway, the whole winter thing kind of throws a wrench in my bike racing plans, or, I should say, road racing plans. I mean, I'm just going to come out and say it - I don't want to ride my bike when it's 15 degrees and snowing outside. Sorry, I think it's time to admit that I am simply not that dedicated. And if I'm not dedicated enough to do that then I'm certainly not going to spend a month on the trainer instead. Pshaw, right. I was beginning to worry that I just wasn't that into my bike anymore, then I went out west and got to ride in the sunshine and it was total Bikelove. Descending down to the Yuba River with sunshine on my skin was pure ecstasy, as was the climb out. So it's not the bike that's the problem, it's the weather. And as such, I think it best not to force it. Okay, so I won't be fast in March, or April, or maybe even May. But there's still lots of racing in June, July, and August, and then there's always CX season. And it really forces me to find enjoyment in other physical and intellectual pursuits, which I feel can only make me more balanced.

Oh, the only really news-worthy bit is that I got a new job! But anyone who reads this already knows that, so that's kind of a stupid bit of news. But I love my new job and it makes me happy to be here, plus, free gym membership! Because it's really cold out there.

Anyway, if the first part of this post doesn't quite jive with the second half, it's because I wrote half yesterday and the finished it today. Until next time . . .

Where'd I go? Part 3

More boring bike race photos . . . there are no pictures of you on cycling news when you come in 30th.

East Coast Cyclocross, yo.

On our first day back, first thing I did was swing by the shop, and title sponsor of my new cyclocross team, Seaside Cycle! We’re also sponsored by Antero Resources, which is an oil drilling company, so I’m told, and a very generous sponsor. The new kits are pretty cool looking.

Anyway, I tried to get the 5 day car ride out of my legs over the course of the week, because just 5 days after arriving here I got to race the New England Nationals – Gloucester Grand Prix. Racing in my hometown is awesome. Seriously, there’s nothing better than sleeping in my own bed the night before a bike race. Plus, there’s a lot more people in the crowd cheering for me! Which can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how the race goes.

Over the course of the week I went on a couple of rides with the guys on the team. One was a relaxed spin, with a little technical skills riding, and checking out of the weekends course in Stage Fort Park. The second day they were heading out for some “threshold intervals”. I figured, oh, I’ll probably get dropped, but whatever. Right before we started I was informed, “340-350 watts for 15 minutes.” Hahahahahahahaha! Even sucking wheel, that was too much for my yet-unrecovered legs. I did my own thing, and spent the rest of the week trying to get my legs reattached.

Anyway, the race ended up being super fun. I had done only one ‘cross race prior to this one, at Folsom Cyclebration, which was several weeks ago. Day 1 of Gloucester was, as a result, incredibly rough. In addition to being LAST after the start and crawling my way through the tight turns, I totally died about halfway through and lost 5-6 places. The good news was that I seemed to work the rest of the yuckiness out of my legs in that solid 45 minutes of pain, and I didn’t get lapped or pulled. Sunday’s race was much, much better. I was solid throughout, and beat one girl who’d tried to ride me into some park benches when I passed her the day before (bitch). Seriously, she did. And then when I cracked she passed me again, so I was pretty determined to not let her beat me again. Hooray! The bad news is I sucked on all things running, despite actually training the run this fall. The good news? Um, I sucked less than the day before at everything else! Hallelujah.

This weekend was the Providence, RI UCI race, which I bailed on at the last minute because I’m unemployed, still, and broke. And really tired, which makes me thing I might be fighting a cold or something. Next weekend I’m heading to a regional race up in Maine, and the following weekend is the second in the Verge series. I’m having a bit of a slow start to the season, but I think things will improve a bit by December.

And now . . . I’m going to go ride my mountain bike.

Where'd I go? Part 1

Yeah, long time, I know. Lots of changes, as you undoubtedly know. Let me back way up.

Tour of the Unknown Coast

The problem with waiting 3 weeks to write about something is I forget all the neat little details I’d wanted to include. For those who are unfamiliar with it, this ride is up in Humboldt County, a 2 day 100 miler, with about 10K feet of climbing. The first day is the longer of the two, about 70 miles. You ride down Avenue of the Giants, through the Rockefeller Grove (which is amazing) and finally climb up Panther Gap, which is probably 6 miles with 2500 feet of elevation gain (just a wild guess on that one). You then descend to Honeydew, which sounds sweet but in actuality bears a striking resemblance to scenes from Deliverance. Both the scenery and the people. But they’re used to the spandex crowd, since this ride takes place twice a year and the little shop there sells lots of cokes and snickers to the participants. So it’s not as sketchy as one might imagine. Anyway, you then proceed about 10 miles, following the Mattole River down to a little campground. They feed you dinner, and the next morning the Grange Hall down the road hosts a pancake breakfast with lots of Bisquick, ham, and Folgers. That begins the second day, which starts with a nasty little climb that isn’t really that little. There follow a number of these things until you descend to Cape Mendocino, and ride along the coast for 10 miles or so. This section is notorious for having a soul-crushing headwind. You round a bend and you see it – The Wall. I’m pretty sure every ride in Norcal has something called “The Wall”, and each probably deserve the name. This one is probably 24% for about ¼ mile, then drops to probably 20% for another ¼ mile. It’s not all that bad, but it’s definitely an epic ¼ mile, and if one were to go all crazy at the beginning and try to hammer up it they would soon find themselves walking. It’s long enough that you need to measure your effort a bit. Anyway, you then have a nice fast little descent and then hit “The Shadow of the Wall” which is probably 5-6 miles, starts out quite steep, and then levels out to a nice tempo climb. I like this one. It starts to seem interminable, but then you’re at the top and you have a fast descent back into the town of Ferndale, where you started the day before. An epic two days.

Anyway, I love this ride, me and my dad try to do it every year, although I haven’t made it up there the last two. This year the weather was a bit . . . wet. The first day ended up being pretty nice, cloudy but dry. Dry, that is, until we got to the top of Panther Gap. Then it decided to get really cold and wet for the descent. It’s not a very fast descent, and has a number of 10 mph hairpin turns. So it takes a long time to get down and by then I was pretty much freezing. Rather than loading up on cold cokes at Honeydew I contemplated the rather murky looking coffee and decided I’d rather just get on with it and get to camp and get dry and warm. As anyone who’s done much camping will tell you, setting up a tent in the rain sucks ass. But then I was dry and warm, although it seriously limited the afternoon activities. Usually we go for a swim in the Mattole River and relax in the sun with books and, in my dad’s case, his guitar. This time around we were confined to our tents with books. C’est la vie. We walked through the rain to dinner. I think I must have walked through some Poison Oak, as my ankles exploded in it four days later as we were driving across Wyoming (I’ll get to that part, maybe not today). Anyway, after stuffing myself with cheese ravioli and listening to my dad try to explain to a group of people why reality TV isn’t real, we walked back to our tents in the rain and called it an early night.

You know the sound of rain on a tent fly? I think it’s a great sound, you know, when I’m in the desert or something. When you’re in the desert and it’s raining at night you know you’ll be greeted the next day by clear skies and dust-free trails. Now, Humboldt County is not the desert. If I had to classify it I’d probably call it rain forest, but that’s a gross exaggeration of course. Anyway, all night long I heard the rain falling steadily on my tent. I slept surprisingly well, and woke up to . . . rain still falling on my tent. I’d talked myself up about riding in the rain before falling asleep, and I was determined to have a good day riding, regardless of rain or wind. It seemed to be letting up as we walked over to the Grange for our pancakes and bad coffee. We packed up wet tents, put on wet shoes, and jumped on wet bikes. The clouds must have dumped all their rain during the night, because it was surprisingly dry! A pleasant surprise, indeed. Not only that, but the stretch along the ocean was calm and gorgeous. The Wall felt easier than in years past (although my 58 year old father dropped me on the way up – curses!). We kept a good pace up the Shadow and passed lots of people who’d set out earlier than us that morning. Mostly-dry roads made the descent back into Ferndale fun and fast.

And then . . . it was over. It’s one of those things where you feel both victorious and a little sad that it’s time to pack up and go home. It was my last ride in California and with my dad before packing up all my crap and moving out to New England. It was fun, but also a little sad. The entire plan for our move out here was built around me getting to do that ride, and I’m so glad I did. Anyway, as my dad said, those mountains will still be there the next time we do it.

The Wall!

Ahh . . . the ocean. No headwind is a big plus!

Cold, wet descent into Honeydew.

Rockefeller Grove = big trees and bad pavement.

Lost in the woods

Made the most of my 3 day weekend and got two days of great riding in. On Sunday Cody and I climbed up the Tahoe Rim Trail to Marlette Peak lookout (see photo evidence above). It was a totally gorgeous day, as you can see. We then dropped down Dirty Harry's, which has some pretty gnar-gnar sections. Gnar trail + roadie + hardtail with a fork that hardly works = dirty socks. But there were some really fun sections that I rode. We then proceeded to get lost for 2 hours and spend waaay too much time riding fire roads. Uck. Anyway, 5 hours later we got back to the car and went to Blue Coyote for burgers. Life is good.

Yesterday I rode up at Donner with my dad. Lovely day except for all the lousy traffic! Gotta take in all the alpine granite I can, because where I'm going we don't have big mountains.

On our Sunday MTB ride we were on a trail that was almost grown in with manzanita bushes for a while. Manzanita has such a distinct smell, and it's one you don't get everywhere you go. I find it terribly familiar, and it evokes hikes up to the Quincy "Q" when I was a kid. Then there's the Tahoe smell, with that particular hint of DG and pine forests. Of course Peavine riding is a smell all its own, too, with sage and rabbit brush. I guess what I'm getting at is that everywhere I go, almost, I ride my bike. And when I ride my bike, I tend to breath pretty heavily and really internalize the particular scent of the place. Don't olfactory senses trigger memories with greater poignancy than either sight or sound? I'm pretty sure they do. When I smell wood smoke from someone's chimney I think of being a kid in Meadow Valley in the wintertime,with 4 feet of snow piling up outside our house and a fire going. Some places totally evoke "home" to me. My new home doesn't smell like home to me yet (well, I'm not there yet, but I've been there in the past, and it doesn't) but it's familiar nonetheless. I can't wait to come back for a visit and be struck by the smell of sagebrush and manzanita.

Blah blah blah.

I was reading the blog of an acquaintance and she said something that really struck me, and I'm going to quote her - "It seemed an ugly injustice to lose someone with plans and hope, until I accepted that our lives are present and vital while we're here and that death doesn't diminish the importance of the love and lessons we leave behind." I'm not trying to be dark and depressing, but I just thought that was so eloquently put that I had to share it with the world.

Anyway, on more frivolous news, I bought a full suspension frame and it's on its way to Gloucester as we speak! Something fun to come "home" to, because I can't possibly ride those east coast roots and rocks on my hardtail. Hells no.