Goals

It had been a long time since I had utilized the well proven training technique known as “overcommit and panic.”  It is also referred to as “Do epic shit” or quite simply, “Sign up for something that scares you and train accordingly.”

After some internal debate I had a conversation with Hottie about a proposed event.  In that one minute conversation she used the word “stupid” four times. She was absolutely correct, it would be stupid.  Was that all bad?  Pretty soon I started to think it had been too long since I had been in over my head.

Without saying anything I began skipping snacks and altering my eating habits while I was building my Four P training program.  My Periodized, Polarized, Panic Powered Plan starts off modestly and builds volume early on and then increases intensity leading up to the June event.   I had another conversation with the ever patient Hottie.  With her permission/acknowledgement/reluctant consent I signed up.

Go ahead, make me a widow.....

That event is a five day gravel ride/race in Oregon.  It is called the Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder (OTGG) and is following the theme of the educational game “Oregon Trail.”  In that video game you either make it to Oregon, or die on route.  Now THAT is a theme I can embrace.

The event has injected focus into my day to day activities. Focus, in this case, might look and smell a bit like panic; but that is okay.  Regardless of what it is called, I feel it is giving some direction to a life that has become too comfortable and predictable.  With age comes wisdom so it only makes sense that doing stupid things will keep me young. 

Bring it on!

This decision to proceed against my better judgment has caused a bit of introspection.  Am I doing this because I am bored, or to feed my starving ego, or to prove something to myself? Perhaps I am seeking enlightenment that comes from the trail by fire?  Am I seeking penance for my countless sins?  I spent more than a few days wondering.

By coincidence I was listening to a conversation between two cyclists on the virtues of reaching the goal or just enjoying the journey.  One said they set the goals (events) then their training supports them.  The other said he just loves the training and then sprinkles in some events to punctuate the training.  I realized that I love the training when it is part of a plan that supports the goal (event).  Without the goal the training seems pointless. I like the process of doing the hard work then seeing it pay off. 

My son Tim and I on top of Mt. Whitney, August 2002

Yeah, he looks like me.

In recent years my training plans have not changed much year on year.  My numbers have been boringly consistent.  April of one year looks almost the same as April of the prior year.  Just as we do with politics and our individual beliefs, we listen and take in that which supports our existing perspectives and ignore everything that doesn’t easily fit. This is easy.  It keeps us in a rut. It keeps us from challenging ourselves and growing.

It was time for a change.  It was time to commit.

My plan is to jump with both feet on to the Polarized training bandwagon.  This means lots of saddle time doing what looks and smells like base miles.  My early season measuring stick is aerobic hours per week.

After years and years of blabbering on about working on my core I spent the month of November getting medical treatment for low back issues.  Core work is no longer optional.  It is an everyday thing now and I even rejoined the Y and have returned to workouts that clang (free weights and weight machines).  It has already made a profound difference.

Eating better, core work, cross training and stretching.  What were once good ideas are now mandatory.  The tradeoff is that for the first time in several months I don’t feel my age.  I did a ride of almost five hours over the weekend and the next day I felt…… awesome.   I had no idea how much of a difference a stronger core would make on endurance cycling.  

I will likely do a gravel event or two ahead of the OTGG in June.  I don’t think I will be alone.  2019 seems to be an aspirational year in the team peloton.  After a couple of quiet years, it seems the men in black and orange are pinning on numbers and turning back the clocks.

Someday Bike

My Seven was supposed to be my last road bike I ever bought. It wasn’t and I shared that tale here. Based on the logic that my Seven was supposed to be my last bike the replacement would therefore be L+1.  Since I was breaking the rules and going to the well, I might as well make it special. I often had the thought, “If someday I got a carbon wonderbike, it would be…”    It turned out Someday came at the end of 2018. 

I am a bike geek.  When I am listening to the Cyclingtips podcast and the siren comes on signaling the “Nerd Alert,” my HR quickens.  I read reviews and surf websites seeking to expand my knowledge as if there is a test looming.  I know there is no test. But if there was a test, I would kick ass on that test.

I was old enough for a Titanium bike twelve years ago when I bought the Seven.  After buying it I aged into the wrinkly guy on the Ti bike that out climbs the young punks.  I may not be fast enough to be worthy of carbon, but I decided I wanted to go there anyway.

I knew the latest Trek’s were impressive.  The Madone has evolved to become an aero bike.  The Madone looks so badass I didn’t think I could pull it off.  With my enormous ego, that is saying something.  Cervelo is always a contender.  Giant has been quietly making good bikes and companies like Canyon, Felt and Factor were not to be overlooked.

I had heard of a company that was still new but had seasoned players.  Allied Cycle Works. Redkiteprayer had written about them as well as offered up more than one podcast on their products, their chief designer and their business model.  Like so many things, the story is only worth telling if the resulting product is worthy of the story.  The word was the story was feel good and the bikes were fantastic.

Cute story.   But does it fly?

After doing more focused research, the stars aligned and there was an Allied ALFA frame destined for my garage.

I had pulled a few pieces off the Seven (bars, stem, crankset, pedals) before selling it, and I began accumulating the various components needed to build the bike. 

It took some time for all the pieces to arrive. Boxes were showing up in all sizes. Then came the wheels, and more components and finally the frame was in my hands. During the waiting time I had formed a mental image of the finished product. 

When I put the seat post into the frame and clamped the seat post in my work stand it was surreal. I looked at it.  This was really happening.  I put the parts together slowly and deliberately.    I spread the build over most of a week.  It was rainy outside and there was no reason to rush.  It all went together perfectly.  I suppose I wanted to stretch out and enjoy the process. 

The tricolor is in keeping with the made in America theme

When I build a bike my final step is always to wrap the bars.  After tuning the bike and filling and bleeding the brakes, wrapping the bars it is the equivalent of closing the hood on a car.

I had measured the X and Y of the bottom bracket, saddle nose and handlebars and compared it to my prior fit models.  It was within an eighth of an inch.  I can have that much margin of error in taking the measurements so I called it perfect.  My calculations of stem length and spacers was spot on. 

The next morning it was time to ride it.  It is almost scary to take your first ride on your dream bike.  My expectations were high as I swung a leg over and rolled out. This was it.   

The fit was right and it felt natural right off the bat. After leaving my neighborhood I pointed it uphill. It climbed like a rocket. I am used to building up the power and accelerating like a turbine.  It seemed to just take a single pedal stroke to be on the attack.  On the descent following the climb I focused on breaking in the discs as instructed by Horst.  The handling was stunning.  It dared me to go fast. 

The machine went exactly where I pointed it.  It felt precise and agile.  This was a different machine. I had a nickname picked out based on the white color of the frame.  The bike let me know that it was too serious to have a playful nickname.  It needed a name to reflect that seriousness. The bike’s performance earned its moniker.  

I dubbed it, “The Weapon.” 

Another Chismus Miracle

This is so fun.

After a couple of days of riding on snow and skate skiing I felt shot.  My hamstrings were sore, my back was sore.  My elbow was sore, my calf was still tight. I was sore all over.  I went to bed lamenting that age was catching up to me.  It had to happen sooner or later.  

I woke up and after breakfast Hottie and I rode fatbikes on perfect snow.  When we finished I was sweating and smiling.  I felt a lot better.  I snuck in an afternoon skate ski session.  I still felt great.  After some thought I realized I had throttled back a bunch because I was fighting a sinus infection for a couple weeks.   Life is great.  I'm just a whiner. 

Fast lady

Wet enough

The forecast said .38 inches of rain per hour Sunday morning.  For those of you who don’t look at the NOAA website multiple times each day, that translates to bombing rain.  Misery loves company and so I sent two text messages to a couple of our more “Belgian” brothers.

Amid darkness and drizzle six of us rolled out.  As the rain increased so did our numbers. Soon we were eight, then ten and finally eleven as rolled around the rock known as Mercer Island in a heavy rain.  So far this fall we have had colder rides and wetter rides, but this one was the coldest wet ride.   As McWoodie later confessed, “We have all this expensive rain gear, we might as well use it.”

The groupetto of wisdom formed with the phrase “base miles” tossed back and forth like a password.  This was a good excuse to keep it in zone two on the slick roadway.  “Thanks, but no thanks,” was our reply when considering a return lap.  We were fully saturated and could not justify the value of seven more kilometers of hypothermic riding in December.   

“The coffee is calling me,” El Jefe’ blurted out.  With that we agreed to cut through the tunnel and made our way directly to FUEL coffee. 

After the coffee we dug deep into our suitcases of courage (nod to our late brother Paul Sherwin) and pulled on our cold and clammy gloves for the short ride to homes and cars.  The season of winter riding is here and we braced for the wet icy hug. 

A few minutes later I put my bike in the back of WW2, changed shoes and turned the car heater to “BROIL.” 

Based on my own experience, my guess is that by dinner time most of us were warm once again.