What it is like to finish first in the Goldendale Fondo ?

I have no idea.  However, my teammate McWoodie does and here is his report..

Methow training.. McWoodie and Einmotron

For the first 20 miles are so, it was one massive group ride. Probably ~50 people together at the front with things fairly mellow. Most of it was pavement, with the occasional short stretch of gravel that would spread things out a bit, but then come back together quickly on the asphalt.

That formula changed about 25 miles in when the gravel section we hit suddenly had tons of loose sand. Guys were going all over the place as they hit the sand. I was a few bikes ahead of Einmotron in the paceline -I made it through ok but heard an expletive from Einmotron (the guy in front of him bobbled in the sand and put a foot down. Einmotron had to come to a complete stop and put his chain back on before continuing). After I was clear of the sand I looked behind me and there was a big gap, so I sat up a bit to wait for Einmotron. Here comes a group of 6 riders he must be in that…nope. Here come another 4 riders and looks like one is in a black jersey, I’m sure he’s…nope. Another group is coming - oh here he is!

We looked up the road and we could see the lead group off in the distance with tons of stragglers in between. Einmotron and I stepped on the gas to bridge up to the strong lead group. A handful of guys jumped on our wheel, but didn’t really pull through so we wound up doing about 70% of the pulling to bridge back up to the lead group.
A little early in the day for a zone 4 effort, but we thought it would be worth it. We were jussssstt about to connect back with the lead group, maybe 20 meters back, when the road turned onto gravel and I jettisoned a water bottle. Ugh. Way too early in the day for a one-bottle ride. I yelled to Einmotron, I turned around, grabbed it, and we were back on the gas again to bridge…again. We made it back on relatively quickly, but had burned a few more matches than we expected.

The course then climbed up through wind turbines with great views down to the Columbia Gorge. Really pretty. A rough gravel section split the group on 25 or so lead riders into two groups, with Einmotron and I in the second group. So, guess what we decided to do: bridge back up to the lead group.

We had a bit more help this time and had managed to catch the lead group – just in time for a huge herd of cattle coming down the road which brought everyone to a stop at the side of the road to let the cows pass. So much for that effort.

Once the cows moseyed past us, the group got back on the road. I was about 5th wheel for this gravel stretch with the group riding in two lines and there wasn’t a whole lot of rotating through. I quickly glanced back to see where Einmotron was in the group, but with the rough road couldn’t spend too much time looking behind me. He must be there. On a fast downhill descent I drifted back – hmmm, where’s my teammate? He must be up ahead. Back on the gas to find him in the group. Nope. Hmmm. Look behind. No Einmotron in sight. Hmmmm.

This lead group of 15 is slogging through a headwind. Save energy and work with them, or drop back to look for Einmotron? I took door #1. Turns out Einmotron had run over some barbed wire about 5 pedal strokes after the cows. He got the tire to seal back up, but was stuck in no mans land.


55 miles in was the food stop. Everyone grabbed some food (in a surprisingly leisurely manner), waited until the whole crew was ready (very civilized), then all 15 or so of us hit the road together again. We started a gentle climb following the Klickitat River, rotating consistently in the paceline. Occasionally there would be a little riser and a Cucina rider I was behind would put in a little dig if he was in the lead – which clearly caused some pain in the group. But everyone knew the real pain was coming at about the 73 mile mark…



We crossed the river, the road took a quick left turn and switched to gravel, and the climb was on. I was towards the front, hanging on to Cucina Mike’s wheel as he hit the base of the climb hard. A few minutes in I came around him simply to pick a better line and found myself in the lead on the climb. Someone came past me and I jumped on his wheel for a few minutes, only to come around him for a better line once again.

With my heart rate pegged (didn’t realize it could say 177 for that long) I kept climbing and soon realized I had a gap. With a KOM contest for this climb, I figured “well, might as well go for it” and kept digging, keeping the HR as high as I dared.

It wasn’t totally clear where the end of the climb was and when I looked back I could see one rider about 50m behind me so I kept pressing on. Finally we hit a part that was clearly a descent and I eased off a bit. Rider #2, a guy named Tim in Starbucks kit, finished the bridge up to me and I said “got enough gas to work together to the end?” He said sure, and we took a right turn onto gravel with about 12 miles left.

Team Training Camp 2014

Once again, washboard gravel jettisoned my water bottle (gotta do something about that), but this time there was no way I was stopping. We couldn’t see anyone behind us so we kept the pace up to stay out of sight. Starbucks Tim and I worked together, though it seemed like he had much more gas than me.

I kept watching the countdown on my Garmin. 9.9 miles to the finish – hey, that’s a lap around Mercer, I can hold on. 7 miles to go – wow, this guy seems to be taking much longer and stronger pulls than me. 4.7 miles to the finish – hey that’s about half a Mercer lap. Don’t lose this guy’s wheel no matter what. 3 miles to the finish – the end is near. 1.2 miles to the finish – OK, that’s only 2km – the last 2km of a bike race on TV goes pretty quickly. 

This is a nice pull Starbucks Tim is taking. Hey, wait a minute, he’s really starting to dig. Glace up quickly - there are some flags on the road next to a car 100m ahead. Damn, that’s the finish! Guess it’s time to sprint! Come around him, dig dig dig – hit the finish line about a wheel length ahead of Starbucks Tim! Congratulatory words exchanged.

I rode the remaining 1.1 miles back to the school parking lot where we started (guess that’s what the Garmin course was counting down to) and found Barry’s wife Mo. Told her I finished first, but then started to think “did that really happen?”. So, decided to spin back to the finish line and ask “before I make any grand claims, did #132 really finish first?”. Yes he did.

Special thanks to McWoodie for sharing !

Coffee and Lies # 119 Thirty miles of perspective

The last four weeks have seen the hillsides go from white to brown and finally to green.  Less than two weeks ago you could just see the tiny sprouts of green if you bent down.  Now there are green hills and wild flowers are just starting to bud. The nights still dip down to freezing but sunshine greets your face in the morning and every day has the smell of spring.

With Hottie still on IR tux and I were out early talking to the owls and spooking the deer.  

The weather and my training calendar were both pointing toward a long ride on Saturday.  I wanted to get going early so Hottie and I would still have some day left for other activities.

One of my objectives for spring (from a list complied during the winter) was to ride to the end of the Chewuch.  The end of the road is a place called “Thirty Mile.”  I was hoping the route would be free of snow. After comparing it to the option of going out to the end of Twisp River Road I thought the mostly north-south drainage would have less snow than the generally east-west Twisp River valley.  Yes as a matter of fact I do over think most things.  I get that from my mom.  Deal with it.

When I left it was right around freezing, but the sunshine made it feel warmer.  The canyon is a long gradual climb with a bunch of rollers to keep you shifting.  I arrived at my desired HR zone, looked around at the beauty of the day and churned out a familiar rhythm. 

Although I passed a carcass or two and stray limbs (both from trees and mammals that had become part of the food chain) it was generally a vista full of life.  The hills had a green haze as spring is taking a foothold.  Birds sang and the river whooshed by as I went up the valley. I spooked some deer here and there and had to slow to avoid one of the dumbest of the breed who waited for me to get really close before darting into the road. In a word, “venison.” 

My route was mostly in the sunshine but parts were in the shade and it was then that I was reminded that the temp was only in the mid thirties.  The climb was gradual but constant. I passed four or five empty forest service campgrounds as the kilometers ticked by.

An hour in I ate my first bar and took a long drink as the road straightened out for an unusually long stretch.  I am sure I subconsciously slowed down.  Instead of riding hard to the next corner, then hard to the next, then the next - seeing the long straight caused me to grasp the length of my hard effort.  I am really good at doing hard things in small chunks.

I was reminded that when the river gets louder it means the valley, and therefore the road grade, gets steeper.  Downed trees reached out into the road requiring me to swerve from one side to the other.  Twice I had to go off road because a fallen tree was stretched across the whole road.

The valley was narrow in parts and opened up wide for long stretches further on.   I saw one car early on then I had the whole valley to myself.  When the pavement finally ended; the gradient though uphill, lessened. I was approaching the area burned by the Thirty Mile Fire in 2001.  It felt eerie.

My brain was in a battle because the sun was bright and if you saw a photo of what was before my eyes you would think it was a hot July day.  My brain saw this and wanted to open up my sweat glands but my body was still reporting temperatures in the thirties and so confusion set in.

Nearing my objective the valley floor opened up and the grade felt almost flat.  Climbing will do that to you. The ghosts of burned out trees stood in stark contrast to the green on the ground. The sandy road had the first real washboard of the season and I was weaving back and forth searching for a good line.  I was looking at the burned snags that climbed up the valley walls and contemplating the fire that burned here nearly fourteen years ago. 

I was the only person in a big, wide open area of the valley. Usually I would feel like the place was all mine. However, I didn’t feel like I had the place to myself.  I felt like I was trespassing.  It didn’t feel like it was mine.  Something felt weird.  It was a feeling I have had before when I have been all alone in a place that at a different time was covered with people.  Like being the only person in a stadium.

As I rounded a corner I came upon a small memorial erected to honor four firefighters who had died fighting the fire in July of 2001.  I had no idea the memorial was even there. The orderliness of the asphalt walkway, the neat lines of the rock monument and brass plaques were in sharp contrast to the chaos of jumbled rocks and fallen trees nearby. The monument stood out for a number of reasons.

I unclipped and tried to reconcile the tragedy of the fire with the tragedy of the loss of life.  The firefighters were college age kids with their whole lives in front of them.  My recent experience with fire has made me sensitive and this monument struck a raw nerve.

After my ride I did a little research and found the deaths were blamed on a breakdown in communications between government agencies.  Was it okay for one agency to “dip” water from another agencies jurisdiction to fight the fire?  The delay in getting an answer contributed to their deaths.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy was that when the Carlton Complex fires began to flare up last summer it was the delay in communication between government agencies that allowed the fire to become too big to stop.  We failed to incorporate the lessons we should have learned from the passing of these firefighters. 

With reverence I rode the last mile or so out to the road end.  I took a few photos, finished off a bar and pointed the bike toward the cabin. I didn’t offer up my usual Wahoo when I took off. 

Above is the view looking up, below is looking down...

On the way down I searched for and soon spotted the memorial.  Again I paused and looked at the array of tokens that had been left by others to honor the fallen.  What can you say?

 Two minutes later I was rolling along and enjoying the slight downhill. The sandy road was faster on the way down as compared to the way up.  Riding felt fun.  The beauty of the area was overwhelming and I was smiling once again.

Before long I was on pavement and pushing against a slight headwind.  The downhill and the scenery had me motivated and my HR was still up as I was working hard and loving it.   Sunshine and a downhill make it hard to go slow.

I kept drilling it and when I looked down and saw I had been at it for three hours it was again time to eat something. For some reason I thought that since I would be back at the cabin in about an hour I could skip it.  What made me think I could skip food for the fourth hour of a hard ride is beyond explanation.

Often we get what we deserve.

Later, when the downhill flattened out and I dug down to keep my speed up but I felt gassed.  Up ahead I spotted a cyclist on a mountain bike.  I pushed to catch him and it took longer than it should have.  When I finally passed it took more effort than I expected. 

What the heck…….. I’m bonking !   I deserved it, I made a mistake.  I had food in my pocket too.  What a maroon I am.

I throttled back but kept my cadence high.   When I got cell coverage I sent a text to Hottie that I was running just a bit late.   My autopilot kicked in and I made the familiar climb to the cabin.  When I arrived I unclipped, gathered my empty bottles and went inside.

I was trashed and Hottie spotted it right away.  I pulled off my shoes and fell on the bed next to Tux. It was hard to pull off my gloves.  After cleaning up we ate and got on with our afternoon.  I would like to say I slept well but I didn’t. Cramps will do that to you.  I had ridden hard. 

Sunday was an easy recovery ride that included some play time on the mountain bike trails.

Coffee and Lies 118 Past the point of no return

Look away...

Hey, isn't that a new 20/20 kit ?

Following four days of indecision Hottie and I opted to stay on the west side of the mountains this past weekend.  The current long-range weather forecast and my present level of physical discomfort has me second guessing several decisions

On Friday I prepared an ambitious list of tasks I hoped to accomplish over the weekend.  The first order of business was building up a new rear wheel on Friday evening.  After I had built the wheel I cleaned the rim, applied rim tape and a value (I’m all about the tubeless) and mounted a tire with YouTube type ease.  I pumped up the tire and it inflated as if there was a tube in it and held overnight.  This was a perfect start to the weekend.

Hottie and I took Tux out Saturday morning for a long walk. When we got back I headed out to the big orange store to buy lumber to begin replacement of a fence that was falling apart. My plan had been to do it a bit at a time.

My theory is that at some point in time someone uttered a phrase something to the effect of, “I don’t see what the big deal is with pressure treated lumber, this regular stuff will probably be just fine.” Even if it appeared fine for a time, that time was short and passed long ago.

With the back of the War Wagon sagging under the weight of cedar and pressure treated lumber I returned with the ingredients not just for a fence, but for an aching back.  It is sad to say it out loud.  I knew exactly what I was in for.  

The demolition was embarrassingly easy and soon I was swinging a hammer driving in galvanized nails with purpose.  By the time I ran out of wood and motivation I had just over fifty linear feet done and the worst section had been replaced.

I wanted to get in a ride on the new wheel before Sunday so I donned the costume and got in a quick hour. The wheels roll good with angry bee sound.  Perfect!  It is hard to judge the stiffness of a wheel with wide low pressure tires.  I did manage to rail a couple corners and they felt rock solid.

That evening I took care of some inside tasks then fell into bed with a sore back and hamstrings. 

When Sunday morning arrived with a buzz I opened my eyes and clenched my teeth even before I began to move in anticipation of the hurt.  To my astonishment I didn’t feel too bad.  I brewed up some Joe and had my pre-ride breakfast of grits and eggs while I prepped a bottle.  Ironically I forgot the bottle.

As we assembled I could not help but notice how awesome the new team kit looks.  Before we looked like a bunch of guys in matching kits. Now we look like a bunch of Badass guys who race for the same team.  We don’t look as friendly as we used to.  That isn’t all bad.   I am curmudgeon man.

I promised myself and others I would hold back and stay out of the mix when the ride transitioned from social to throw down at the usual spot. When the pace ramped up I gladly settled into the second group.  Sometimes we break into two groups; sometimes more.  Today it was more.

All was good until the front three guys spun around and rejoined us. The front half of the second group (which included Evo) was suddenly part of the first group and now we were flying.  Each time I rotated to the back there were fewer and fewer riders.  We hit the hill and it was every rider for himself. 

After the pack was shattered I picked up with El Pirate and Big John and a guy from Cucina Fresca that I still don’t know who he is.  We finished the first half strong.  On the way back we started pretty social but by the time we were approaching the downhill there were six of us off the front and we were not going slow.

On the gradual climb after the downhill I got a sick sense of what was to come.  It was a feeling like when you hold a five pound weight in your hand and stick your arm straight out.  You know you can hold it for a bit, but in just a matter of seconds it is going to start to ache.

I felt like I could go a little faster if I needed to, but not for long.  I also knew I couldn’t keep this level of effort up the whole way back to the bridge.  Moonlight and McWoodie were drilling it with El Jefe, Big John, Evo and El Pirate just trying to hang on. 

The road swung left and right and climbed and dropped.  The beauty of the roller coaster route was lost due to hypoxia. My HR climbed and when my turn came at the front I took my allotted suffering with broad shoulders.  When I rotated back I struggled to catch the back of the paceline each time. Moonlight encouraged me with a “Good pull.”  If he only knew.

We were all tucked as aero as we could be and my back was screaming something about fence building but I ignored it and just kept churning.  I noticed there were just five of us.  Then when I started to falter I looked behind and realized there were only four of us.  Hang on Evo, hang on!

I checked my HR and in theory I had more left in the tank.  My slow tires and sore body were clearly not supportive of a fast ride.  I could feel gravity, wind and rolling resistance all battling Newton’s first law.  Perhaps I could summarize the feeling by saying I was battling time. Despite each of us fighting against it, time remains undefeated.

I tried to compartmentalize the hurt. I tried to focus on cadence and breathing and pedal stroke and the wheel in front of me.  I tried to tuck lower to hide from the wind. I tried to go to my happy place then I tried my angry place.  In the end the volume of the screaming coming from my legs drowned out everything else.

Blam! I popped.

Sadly there is a moment in between the time when your mind knows you are done and when your pedaling backs off that you know you’re blown but nobody else can tell. When you are in this phase you don’t make eye contact. It is only a moment or two later; when your pedaling slows that others know you’re done.  The gap opens slowly at first then expands quickly. You look behind to see if someone is close enough that you might be able to team up them and work together.

I watch as McWoodie, El Jefe and Moonlight pull away. I look behind me and I don’t see anyone. Then after a minute of catching your breath you (wrongly) think maybe you can catch back up and so you try to push it again. The gap continues to grow and your legs remind you why you came off the back in the first place.  

Soon enough El Pirate joins me and we trade pulls as Big John, spent from racing the day before (WTF), catches us from behind.  I don’t know if John even knows what a recovery day is.  We rotate once or twice before the little hill that precedes the finishing climb.  Just to mess things up I attack on the little climb and zip down the descent in advance of the final climb.

At the base of the climb El Pirate and Big John catch me and Big John pulls ahead as El Pirate gives me a push from behind.  Inspired by the push I pull up alongside Big john and then surge just to give him something to chase.

Up ahead I can see El Jefe on the climb but he is done going fast.  I am closing in on him but I won’t catch him before the top. I don’t know if Big John or El Pirate are still chasing me or not but I am committed and I am fighting my way to the top.  My heart is racing and I know this will be the last hard thing I do on a bike today. My legs are on fire as I top out. My lungs are burning as well.  Even though I am still rolling I slump over my bars gasping for air.

We gather under the trees and I fight to catch my breath. The fact I was on wide, slow tires is lost on my companions.  The dry weather was a treat and we all had our fast bikes today.  There was only one fender amongst a dozen or more 20/20 riders.  If there was an award for the fastest guy on a slow bike I’d take it.  It is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.  It isn’t really anything to be excited about.

The rest of the ride is social which is good because I am cooked.  The climb to coffee seems easier thanks to the slow pace and some good rides over the winter.  A special shout out to El Chefe fo rth elong winter rides.  At Fuel we share coffee and lies then part ways.

Men in black.  There I said it.....

Once home I shower then check the weather and the week ahead looks wet.  I won’t be working on the fence one section at a time after work unless I want to get wet.  I drive back to the orange store and get more wood.  I resign myself to the knowledge that I am past the point of no return and that Monday will be pain day for Evo.

By the time the sun sets the fence is done and my shirts for the week are ironed. The apple tree has been trimmed and the mess is mostly cleaned up.  My hands and back join my legs and the rebellion takes charge.  

THAT is a freakin' fence !!

Sometimes we have to do what needs to be done. Other times we can’t help ourselves as we are drawn to our individual addictions. What amuses me is that oftentimes we know exactly what we are getting into and we do it anyway. Thank goodness for Aleve.

Hello it's Spring Open the flood gates

Hottie and I returned to the Methow this past weekend.  We had been in Seattle for the previous two weekends with a brief, though soggy, detour to Ephrata.  As we drove up the valley it was shocking to see the transition from when I last visited at the beginning of the month.

This was the view out the door on March 1...

In early March only the roads were free of snow.  There were some tree wells that were opening up but everything else was buried under the same white blanket that had been there since Thanksgiving. Now the snow was GONE!  There were small patches of dirty snow where it had been piled by a snowplow or where it had been dumped from the roof; otherwise you might think it was June.

Same view, nineteen days later..  Festivus pole in place !

We pulled up to the cabin and stepped out of the War Wagon and just looked around speechless. We walked around silent for three or four minutes trying to reconcile what we were seeing. The ground was brown and what remained of grass or other plant life was dead having been squashed down by the snow. From ninety percent white to ninety-five percent brown is as much of a transition as you can have without an act of God.

The summer-like appearance sparked a flood of memories from last year.  In an instant I saw myself drinking coffee in the driveway while Hottie catches some much deserved extra sleep. Then I saw grandchildren around the fire pit cooking s’mores.  Hottie and I unhurried and barbequing outside.  Bike rides under blue skies with the blessed sound of gravel crunching under my tires.

Then I spot the yellow tape that was put in place when our area was evacuated for the fires last summer.  The wonder and fragility of this place chokes me up and I turn to Hottie as my emotions bubble to the surface.

We are so lucky.

The next morning Tux wakes me at first light and I feed him and we head out for a morning walk.  We follow the sound of an owl, “Who, who….who…..who.”  Just as I figure out the tree the sound is coming from the owl takes flight and picks a new tree a hundred yards west. 

As the light begins to grow we continue on and the air is rich with the smell of wet earth and rotting foliage.  Spring will be coming soon and there are a few green sprouts here and there.   Tux and I come around a corner and I notice his ears go up. I follow his eyes and there are three large deer silhouetted against the pink sky. 

I don’t have a camera or a phone to photograph the scene.  This moment is just for Tux and me. I bend down and rub Tux’s chest and praise him for not tearing my arm off by chasing after the deer.  Tux leans into me. The deer look down on us and I sense it is time to move on.  Still I linger just another moment or two the sight is so beautiful.

We are so lucky.

I manage to sneak in a gravel ride and it is warm enough that I ride a portion with exposed arms.  The first full day of Spring welcomes me to the hills.

The ride looked like this at times:

Click this for the Video!

I am so lucky.

That evening I share dinner with Hottie. Her eyes sparkle and her smile still makes my heart skip a beat.  I can’t believe I tricked her into marrying me.

It seems like a hundred years ago and a world away but I can remember dark days as well.  I can see myself deathly sick and hunkered down in a tiny apartment, months after having been thrown out of my own house by my narcissistic ex-wife.  She had suddenly concluded I was the source of her perpetual unhappiness.  The rest of that story is pretty predictable.

Alone and floundering in the deep end of the pool of self doubt I could not connect the dots to a happy ending.  This wasn’t the plan. I didn’t even know this was an option.  I couldn’t visualize the future.  It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other.  I went through the motions for reasons I didn’t understand at the time.

It took a year to realize I wasn’t a shit.  Then I started to have fun and later when I found Hottie I discovered how it is supposed to be.  Our years together have been an adventure with ups and downs.  What has been there the whole time and hasn’t been up and down is our relationship and love for each other.  

Times are good now. I hope they stay that way. Bikes and stuff are fun but what makes me the luckiest man is having Hottie in my life. 

I am so lucky.