Bent Wanderings: A Spiritual Journey Of A Recumbent Rider

El Tour de Tucson

2011-11-20T15:46:00.001-06:00

8,700 riders lined up for the start. Photo complements of Arizona Sta

Perfect weather for the 29th riding of El Tour de Tucson, a race that attracts ranked riders from all points N, E, S, W, and even internationally. Of course the elite riders are protected from the mass of 9,000 riders by being given a place up front, tucked safely behind the pace vehicles.

It's a chipped ride now, so no more having to line up at 3:00 a.m. to shiver in the chill of the moon to assure a desired position on the start line waiting for the 7:00 start. What better way to inaugurate my being a Tucsonian than by riding El Tour.

My garage door woke the neighbors at 5:15 a.m. who had arrived home only an hour before. Lights on, I rode down the dirt path from my garage to the Rillito Wash Path, to Mountain Ave, through the University of Arizona that still slept, through the heart of downtown Tucson and finally to the start line at 6th Ave. and 13th St.--7.5 miles from home. I lined up with the other riders who were planning to complete the ride in the 7's.

A male quartet from the U of A sang a stunning rendition of the Star Spangled Banner and the mass began to roll out. Couldn't put both feet in the pedals for at least a block, going so slow compressed by carbon, steel, titanium, passion, and adrenalin. But when I did clip in with both feet there was clearly something amiss. But of course, it was at least my 10th flat in two weeks, despite Mr. Tuffy kevlar rim strips. Off the course, onto the sidewalk to change my flat while 4,000 riders left me behind.

The upside: well, I didn't have to jockey for position in the throng those first few miles; the downside: by the time I was rolling again all the police had left their positions at traffic intersections so I had to obey the traffic signals losing precious more minutes waiting for lights to change, etc.

As many of you know, El Tour features the crossing of two dry river washes for a total of about 0.8 mile. I caught the tail end of the 4,000 at the Aid Station on the far side of the Santa Cruz Wash.

Crossing the 1st Wash: Photo by the Arizona Star

Topped off my tube with the floor pump and spend the rest of the day passing as many riders as I could. Having ridden the course a week before paid off in spades knowing where my favorite Convenient Stores were, where the climbs were, and where the speedy descents were and whether I would want to have my windbreaker on or off.

The 85 mile riders folded onto the course at about mile 26 of the 111 mi route. The 85 milers only had to off-road through one Wash, the one through Sabino Creek (dry) which skirted Canyon Ranch through their parking lot.

Bill Walton, of basketball fame, was riding El Tour; I bumped into him in the Sabino Creek Wash, both of us sucking down some Gu Gel. I had a deep conversation with my first celeb: "Bill, I just gotta ask you, what size is your frame?" His response was thorough, but hardly expansive: "72". And then we were both off into our own rides.

At mile 50 I was back on roads that I ride weekly; so good to be on familiar roads. The 60 mile riders would fold in shortly on Sunrise Dr.; and finally the 42 milers folded in Rancho Vistoso near Catalina State Park.

The good news was that I had no more tire issues and the strong headwinds that had been predicted for the last 20-30 miles were not all that bad and the dropped cell phone I found at mile 90 was able to be returned to its rightful owner at the finish park.

El Tour by the numbers:

8,700 riders, about 50% rode the 111 mi route
temps ranged from 60-72
I was the only female recumbent rider on the 111 mile course; there were 8 male bent riders who ranged in age from 47-68 on the 111 mile course. I finished in the 44th percentile among All the bent riders--7 hrs 42 min
There were 16 women riding upright bikes in the 61-70 year old category, my age group (age 66). I finished in the 75th percentile among all the women in my age category, although I was really my own category of 1: a bent rider in the 61-70 year old category.

Take aways:

It was a GREAT day. Loved every minute of it, except the flat
It would be fun to be more competitive, but given my age and classification of the bike I ride, I turned in a respectable showing.
Wonder why it is that out of nearly 9,000 riders on 17 women in my age category toed the line? Don't know the true answer, but what works for me is to smile one of gratitude for the gift of being able to put my wheel on the line and ride the distance
Next year I think I'll ride again, but do so as a Bike Patrol giving back so others can have a glorious El Tour.


Eric Marcotte of Scottsdale, left, men's winner in the 111-milerace Photo by Arizona Star

Jennifer Wheele of Tucson, women's winner in the 111 mile race
Photo by Arizona Star

Arivaca, Arivaca How Are You?

2011-11-07T13:37:00.001-06:00

Always wondered what Arivaca meant: dry cows? sister to frere jaca (aka Jacques)? Who knew it is the oldest continuously inhabited townsite in Arizona. It was home to the Hohokam Indians from 300 BCE (before common era, the pc replacement of BC or before Christ) to 1,400 CE before the O'odham and Spaniards and Anglos showed up. And, it means "little well or place where water comes up."

I had several really fun opportunities for a long ride on Saturday, November 5th and I'm so, so glad I opted tor the 142 mile (+ 5 miles from the finish to home) with Mark Dumas and 2 of his Bike and Breakfast riders, Derek and Big Dave. Big Dave is big; I thought our son Daniel was big at 6'-6", but Big Dave was 6'-10" before he fractured his hip in a bike wreck and is now only 6'-9".

Left to Right: Derek, Mark, and Dave

Friday night before the 6:00 a.m. departure from the U of A Flagpole, the ubiquitous start of many Tucson bike rides, the wind gusted to 50 mph threatening to launch our patio table's umbrella from our 4th floor patio. The rain came, too, overnight dropping the temp an additional 20 degrees below its usual sun-gone-down dip. Whatever our weather would be for our ride would be better than if I had traveled 200 miles (one way) north to Congress, AZ for the AZRando's 200k, which, I heard, even offered snow at the higher elevations.

Mark has been the leader/instigator of the Bike and Breakfast rides for quite awhile now. A social group they are, that proffers challenging rides to boot. An unknown, me, showing up for the first time under the shelter of a flag pole for a 140 mile ride sent a chill of doubt through the other riders.

Headlights and blinkies on, we set out for the 1st of 4 legs: Green Valley for breakfast in 35 miles. I love to experience new routes, and about 120 of the 140 miles would be new vistas, new terrain, new joy, oh, and a little pain. We were passed by a couple of huge peletons from the Saturday Morning Shoot-Out gang and a fiercely strong mixed tandem. We were content with our conversational pace up the climb.

A wonderful surprise on the descent into Green Valley's Mama's Kitchen!! We passed a mountain biker who, it turned out, was Mark Mandell, my friend from PAC Tour's 2011 Desert Camp, who had crashed badly about a month ago breaking his shoulder in 5 places, breaking 3 ribs, and suffering a concussion during a Tucson Shoot Out ride. He's obviously on the mend. Read more about his shattering of the Arizona Perimeter Record.

Breakfast was full of "big fish" stories about our various cycling pursuits and then off on leg two, 35 miles of headwind and perpetual climb into Arivaca. I think all of Arivaca's population of 698 was out and about dancing, hooting, and hollering for their Fall Fair.

Leg three had to be the best of all. Clearly the direction was both downhill, kissed by a tail wind, and the most glorious non-billboard scenery imaginable of Altar Valley, Baboquivari Peak, a 7,730' sacred peak to the Tohono O'odham, and Kitt Peak National Observatory.

Our third rest stop at about mile 114 was Three Points, however, I think there are really only two: an expanded convenient store and a closed restaurant. We opted for the the expanded convenient store for the likes of beer nuts and beef jerkey. We left Three Points at about 4:15ish with 25 miles to go; Should be back to Tucson in civil twilight. But there were some mechanicals on our dance cards.

Derek's 2 month-old armadillo tire was slashed by some angry detritus on the 3' margin of Ajo Highway with its 55 mph traffic. The setting sun was so bright in my rear view mirror I didn't realize I had "lost" them for about a mile. Called Mark, walked backwards toward them, the tire had been booted with a dollar bill, but with concern as the boot wanted to pooch through the slash. Letting some air out of the tire to protect against a blowout laid his tire vulnerable to the inevitable pinch flat. We're way beyond civil twilight now, patching his only tube by the light of our headlamps, and using my tire boot made from a piece of discarded tire I carry just for this particular "just in case" purpose.

Up and running again with 20 miles of Ajo Highway night riding, not meditative at all, unless you call praying for safe delivery onto Mission Road meditative.

This Arivaca Loop will go down in my book as one of my two most favorite one-day rides, the other being my 300k with Michelle Williams in NOLA last February.

If the Ride and Breakfast riders will have me, I'm looking forward to many more rides with them.

Thanks, guys.

Tucson Musings

2011-10-20T17:22:00.000-05:00

Courtesy of Weather.com/iWitness

It's difficult to say when we arrived in Tucson; it has been, what you might call, a series of soft landings. There was the week of September 4-11 when we hotelled it at Varsity Clubs of America at Alvernon and Speedway. That was the week we made serious tracks with Liz Ryan, our interior designer/decorator.

That was the week we were amazed, surprised, and pleased to discover the civility of drivers and store workers, including those at places the likes of Staples, Circle K, and Ace.

It's the culture here for cars to NOT race through yellows. They simply stop and wait for the next green. They also do not race ahead of cyclists and then cut them off to make a right turn.

Left turn arrows are, for the most part, trail the green light. But what's totally an enigma for me is that some left turn arrows lead the green, sometimes the Leading Arrow is announced by signage, and sometimes not. Moral of the story: do NOT assume you know the light patterns.

Dedicated bike lanes are omnipresent and drivers are omnicourtesous, for example slowing to make their right turn to let the cyclist clear the right turn zone. By the same token it is the culture here for cyclists to wait patiently for the red light to turn green. No cyclist even thinks about running a red.

Store workers smile and greet you every time you walk in any store and ask if they can help you find something, even if it's just a Red Bull or a MousePad.

That same Labor Day week I rode 300 amazing AZ miles. Locals said it was too hot to ride a century, but I said "Bring it on, I've been waiting a LOOOONG time to feel the warmth."

We left Tucson September 12 not to return for nearly 2 weeks, our renters' lease still being operative until October 1st. September 25th was another soft landing date--back to the same Varsity Clubs of America. More work with Liz Ryan, lots of work on Kirk's part to refinance the mortgage, multiple trips to the Motor Vehicle Division to get Driver's Licenses and Car License Plates, lining up health care professionals, and on and on.

October 1st was another soft landing date: the date we took official possession of 2399 E. Blue Diamond Dr., at least in the eyes of Waste Management, Tucson Electric and Water. October 1st, in came the tradesmen of all flavors to put fans in the ceilings, install custom bookcases, closet interiors, and brilliantly beautiful colors on the walls. After 39 years of parsonage life, no more egg-shell white on every wall and ceiling.

Riverwalk Townhouses

October 8th was another soft landing date, but actually not really soft. That was the first night we slept in our own place. Only problem was we didn't have a bed yet, so it was floor camping. Our bed count since June 26th was 44 different beds in 27 different states.

October 10th was the hard landing--our Chicago furniture finally arrived, along with 103 boxes many of which are Kirk's books and that was after he purged 50% of his collection before leaving Chicago. We had said bye-bye to our furniture on June 24th, 3-1/2 months earlier.

And so began the joy of discovering what was in all of those boxes and figuring out where it would live at 2399. Thanks to Liz Ryan we knew where the furniture would go, but all of our newly ordered furniture won't be here for 8-12 weeks. So, it's not quite floor camping, but we're not entertainment ready either. ;-)

And so, in between unpacking boxes and multiple trips to Bed Bath and Beyond I've ridden about 1,700 miles most alone, but some with our son, Daniel, a few with the Tucson Recumbent Group, a few with Arizona Cyclist Shop (got handily dropped on the Twin Peaks climb), and looking forward to riding with "The Dogs" next week.

Along the roads I've seen moles, shrews, rattlesnakes, hummingbirds, coyote (up real close and very personal), mice, rats, but no javelina yet. Shots from the road:

Self-portrait

Once Again

Shades of Sunset

Another Sunset

Need a Vacuum?

Says It All (p.s. not mine)

The 0.15 mile path from our Townhouse to the Rillito Path

One of the many "washes" that fill with water during the monsoons

A portion of the once mighty Santa Cruz River. Most of the Santa Cruz in Tucson is a dry "wash".

A Season Passed

2011-10-04T21:37:00.000-05:00

For 40 years we loved everything about Chicago, except the winters. It was home for our careers, childrearing, Rotary-ing, cycling, growing, celebrating, learning, and cheering for the Cubs (alas to no avail).June 26th we embarked on our 99-Day-Trek-To-Tucson right after lunch, right after Kirk preached his last sermon at Trinity United Methodist Church in Wilmette. I had wrapped up my Recovery Coaching Practice just days before. October 1st, 99 days, 12,400 miles, 27 states, and 44 different beds later we reached Tucson where the I can ride 365 days a year, the skies are always blue, and we’ll be only 8 miles from our son, Daniel, and his family.These past 99+ days have been about our shared Trek-To-Tucson so I have not posted in Bentwanderings. But, we're here now, Tucson is home now: I have an AZ Driver's License (they didn't even make me take an eye test) and a new cell phone number with a 520 area code.If you'd like to read about our Trek you can catch the blog here: Trek-To-Tucson

Plan, But Don't Plan The Outcome

2011-06-08T15:15:00.000-05:00

I had been planning this half-solo, half-groupie ride for better than 6 months. PAC Tour would be riding the eastern half of Route 66 leaving Amarillo May 21st and arriving in Chicago June 5th. I would ride four days down to Litchfield where they'd enter Illinois and then ride back with them to Chicago. Perfect! Their finish motel is only 8.5 miles from my house!

So, the planning began--customizing and tuning my new-to-me Bacchetta Ti Aero, route planning, drop shipping supplies to myself along the way, test riding the bike with loaded panniers, etc.

Sunday, May 29th finally came: Day 1--Wilmette to Joliet. Dave Eidenburg would meet me on the road by Swedish Covenant Hospital and we'd breakfast at Ina's instead of our "regular" Lou Mitchell's. The 29th was also Bike The Drive with thousands of cyclists enjoying the freedom of riding Lake Shore Drive for several hours while the road is closed to all car traffic. Lou Mitchell's, being close to The Drive, would surely be overrun with cyclists, tourists, happy Holiday-ers, but probably few regulars.

Chicago's winter has been endless and the Spring, if you can call it that, has been ridiculous with cold, rain, wind, storms, and more. So,I was not surprised to awake Sunday, May 29th to find the temp in the mid-50's, fog that could best be described as pleuritic froth so dense it dripped off my handlebars and soaked my knee warmers. Oh, so glad it was 6:30 a.m. and no one was on the road cuz my visibility was, at best, two car lengths. I needed to wipe my glasses every 30 seconds just to see anything. Even considered turning around, loading my bike in the car and driving to Joliet. An option, yes, but decided to decide after breakfast with Dave.

Indeed the fog did lift, at least at Racine/Randolph; but by the time we reached Indiana/Roosevelt it had returned with a vengeance. On we rode to 71st/Cottage Grove where Dave would U-turn to go home and I would seep alone into the southwest side's blight and fog.

I wanted to pee before Dave left, but finding such a facility was a challenge since gas stations in ghettos don't typically have restrooms. But what did manifest was what would be the first of 4 close encounters-of-the-police-kind right there on the corner of 71st and Cottage--a Chicago Police Station!! While there the sky opened up with proverbial buckets which gave Chicago's finest a chance to check the hourly forecast for me and "bless" my route. Gave Dave a farewell hug and headed out into the drizzle, pizzle, and pour Oh Lord.

Vincennes, the road, turned out to be under construction (rough, grooved surface) so sidewalk riding, curb and water-filled pot hole hopping while praying my gatorskin tires would resist the everywhere detritus.

Finished the ghetto; breathed easily in the beauty of Beverly; then girded my loins for surviving my invisibility in the fog on unshouldered, 45 mph south suburban streets. Jumped the sidewalks many times to stay out of harm's way, playing the stop lights for lane space.

Old Plank Trail was music to my eyes, even paused long enough to call Kirk with an update of my continued survival. Fog still BIG, but being the only wheeled vehicle on the Trail, actually being the only creature on the Trail, didn't seem like it should be too hard until--the 7:00 p.m. darkness at 1:30 p.m. turned to 11:00 p.m. darkness; the fog on my glasses became blinding rain, and the hirsute foliage edging the trail alive, competing with my trail space. And so it went to New Lennox when the elements became more civil and a Police Station appeared at trail side. Close encounter of a police kind # 2.

Did he think it safe for me to cut through the east side of Joliet to get to my motel or should I take the extra 7 miles to route around the "iffy" neighborhood. He voted for the extra 7 cautious miles.

The Joliet Red Roof watched me pour water out of my shoes, pour out of my pannier rain covers, and pour out of my panniers themselves. Washed my bike with shampoo out of the motel waste basket and stomped around on my clothes in the shower and fell dead asleep at 5:00 p.m. awakened by Rhonda's call saying she was at the front desk ready to take me to Syl's for dinner.

Day 1 in the books, a day of wise riding, protection and luck. Grateful for them all.

Willing To Accept Help

2011-06-08T15:14:00.000-05:00

Monday, May 30th, Memorial Day awoke with a welcome visage: warm, sunny, blue skies; not even a thought of rain in the air or in the forecast.

The new roads bypassed the truck-laden roads out of Joliet and 12 miles later I was on the frontage road of I-55 aka Old Route 66. Nothing could be sweeter after yesterday's hard-earned fog-sodden completion.

Oooops, the pavement ended. YIKES, was I so mesmerized I missed a turn? Turned around to find my maybe missed turn and, VOILA, my close encounter of a police kind #3. The Sheriff re-directed me through the unpaved road, onto Duck Pond Road, and finally Dresden, my red carpet into Coal City. Duck Pond Road was Avatar Forest magical with frogs singing, cottonwood puffs filling the air like huge snow flakes and cool tranquility.

Fluid unload and reload at the Coal City ACE and on my way again, except not really. Heading South out of Coal City was the beginning of 25-30+ mph winds and temps that reached 95 for the rest of the day into Bloomington. No worries. I had plenty of daylight for the remaining 90 miles, plenty of bottle fuel, bars, and all would be fine. Plus, I would pass through Gardner, Dwight, Odell, Pontiac, Chenoa, Lexington, and Towanda. I could cool off in the service stations, no biggie.

By the time I reached Odell I had a disquieting sense that all was not fine. This was only the 4th day in 2011 I had ridden in Illinois with short pants, short sleeves, and short fingred gloves. I was not heat-acclimatized.

I had a serious bout of hyponatremia several years ago in the Cochise Classic--the result of coming out of the temperate October climate in IL and into the heat of AZ for the one-day ride. I've been told having had one bout of hypoNA predisposes you to future bouts.

By Pontiac I'm huddling in the shade of The Pontiac Family Kitchen's awning and putting ice under my helmet and down my shirt, the first of several more such attempts at cooling. The wind is picking up with each hour of the day and is solidly and relentlessly in my face. Pontiac's bright spot was a conversation with the Pritchards, long-time curators of the Pontiac Route 66 Museum, who were leaving the Family Kitchen.

By Lexington I'm seriously questioning whether I can make it to Bloomington, yet my options are none but to keep moving forward. Sat for a long while with as much skin as I could put on the cool tile floor of the Freedom Oil Convenient Store with ice under my cap and inside my shirt downing Hammer Endurolytes like Pez Candy, and having no idea whether I was ahead or behind with electrolyte replacements. I'd only peed once in 8 hours, not a good sign. Drinking nauseated me and even Lays Classic potato chips, the only convenient store food I can eat, wouldn't't go down. My caloric intake for the day was downright puny--a Larabar and a couple of bottles of fluid.

I'm in trouble. Big trouble.

My elapsed speed has been reduced to something like 8.5 mph with all the stops I've needed to make to slow my heart rate down, cool off, etc. Stopping once again under an overpass between Lexington and Towanda I have my #4 close encounter of a police kind. Steve Kennedy, State Police pulls up along side me, gives the thumps up sign in questioning and I return with the thumbs down. We chat, would I want to put my bike in his back seat? That was downright humorous. I smiled the first time since the Avatar Forest. Can you even imagine getting a Bacchetta Ti Aero into the back seat of a sedan??? I thanked him for his kind offer and pressed on down the road toward Towanda. He says he'll send another officer out a little later to check on me. It was a relief to know that someone knew I was out here.

Once again my cool down ritual at The Fast Stop in Towanda with 11 miles to go. Each of these 10 mile stretches seem like 25 or 30 on regular days. Four miles out of Towanda close encounter of a police kind #5 this time it's State Police Officer Eric. He says a lot of people are worried about me and we're going to load my B into his trunk and he'll SAG me into the motel. With tires, weapons, first aid kits, and more in his trunk, I think it is a full miracle we were able to lay the B on top of it all and bungee the trunk lid with my cable lock. It was only 7 miles, but it felt like 30.

After checking into my room I reached for my phone to call Kirk and my phone was GONE!! I know I hadn't been thinking clearly for several towns, but my last memory with my phone, which I could have sworn was in Towanda, was moving it from my hip pouch to the pouch on the back of my bike seat so the dripping water from the ice in my shirt and under my cap wouldn't drown my phone. Phone lossage was indeed a show stopper. I had to call Kirk via the hotel room phone. Amazing I even knew his number since he's speed dial "K".

Decision made. I would need to layover in Bloomington an extra day to recoup and regroup including buying a new phone. Did call the service station in Towanda to see if my phone had been found. No such luck, although the thought of riding 24 miles round trip to pick it up, had it been there, sounded like an over-the-top challenge at the time.

Sometimes when I fall short of a goal I beat myself up with a cacophony of self-talk. This was not one of those times. I had planned well, trained well, and was fully ready. There is no way I could have heat-acclimatized for mid-90's and high winds in one day. After all, I had been wearing winter or storm gear up to this very day for 6 months!

I was grateful for the SAG; grateful for having had the hyponatremia experience several years ago so I could, at least, knowledgeably try to manage my physiology; grateful for Hammer products to give me the confidence that I had supplements at hand designed to support athletes under such conditions; grateful for 5 different Officer Friendlies along my way; grateful for the Pritchards who brightened Pontiac for me;grateful for Paul, the La Quinta Proprietor, who was genuinely relieved to see me arrive safely; and grateful for Kirk at the other end of the hotel phone line who, as always, was full of support and constructive problem solving.

Day 2 in the books.

Bloomington: Recoup and Regroup

2011-06-08T15:13:00.000-05:00

Given the events of Foggy Day 1 and Steamy Day 2, meeting PAC Tour in Litchfield would not be doable.

First order of business on Day 3, this my day of recoup and regroup in Bloomington, was a bike ride to the Library to plan my route to Lincoln where I WOULD meet up with PAC Tour to ride the last 3 days of their eastern half of the Route 66 Tour. One of my learnings from my several years of self-guided touring is to remember to build in "cush" time to manage through the occasional unplannables. Without some cush-time, the unplannables will, indeed, bite you in the kneecap. The events of the last couple of days definitely fell into the category of unplannables.

Google on the Library Computer found me my route to Lincoln, the local Starbucks, and the Verizon Store; all my needs can be met with these 3 finds.

Sipping a Chai Latte on the Starbucks' patio on the corner of Washington St. and Veterans Parkway when 19 y.o. Barrista Jason, on break, sat down at my patio table to swap bike and riding stories. His longest ride is 50 miles; he rides a vintage Schwinn. He's a tiny little guy whose smile is twice the size of his whole body. He'd easily make weight as a Jockey for sure. His big, fawn eyes went dreamy imagining what it would be like to have the freedom to ride the country. Fun to be a part of planting a dream in a young'n's heart.

Off next to the Verizon store and served there by Andre, a 48 y.o. born-again Christian, 6-months retired world-class, professional body-builder wrestler and inspirational speaker. My B parked in his store gave him license to swap stories about the mental aspects of our sports. Check him out on YouTube. He sold me an iPhone with a ballistic proof shocking pink case. Not sure I need all that protection, but right now I'm practicing being willing to accept help.

With Tuesday as a Recoup and Regroup Day, I was ready to roll out of the Bloomington La Quinta and say farewell to Paul, the proprietor, and his 2-week-old baby girl on Wednesday, Day 4.

I am not a fan of Cracker Barrel, but that was the only restaurant within walking distance of my La Quinta. Another thing I've learned is I need animal protein especially the morning of a long ride or when on multi-day tours. So, stopped at Cracker Barrel with my loaded B for a carry-out order of a couple of sausage patties and met Todd, a local business man, who was interested in where I was going, my route, whether I'd ridden in the Madison, WI area, his hopes to do so, etc. We must have spent 30 minutes pouring over maps, and his making call after call to city hall and the parks dept trying to figure out where I could pick up the trail to Shirley, IL.

I left Bloomington in perfect weather, Thank You!--warm, breezy, pure sunny delight. Even found the path Todd had worked so hard to find for me, but with no thanks to the folks who answered his calls at city hall or the parks dept.

Stopped in Atlanta, IL at a service station and was nearly to Lincoln when a 16 y.o. on a BMX trick bike rolled up along side of me; he'd been chasing me down since Atlanta. He'd never seen a recumbent before and just had to see it up close and personal. Satisfied, he turned around a rode back to Atlanta.

A most sweet conclusion to Day 4.

Riding In The Pack With PAC: Lincoln-->Pontiac

2011-06-08T15:12:00.000-05:00

Always feels like a homecoming when I rejoin PAC Tour whether it be for a Transcon, a week of Desert Camp to break the monotony of Winter, or just to ride with them a few days on one of their longer journeys, which is the case this week.

Today we're riding about 80 miles from Lincoln to Pontiac savoring the sites of some of Illinois' Route 66 lore, like the Paul Bunyon Hot Dog Statue, The Palms Grill Restaurant rich with homemade pies, Funks Grove Maple Sugar, and lots and lots of 50's memory lane in Pontiac.

Jim Hlavka under Paul Bunyan in Atlanta, IL

Breakfast at The Plam's Grill in Atlanta

One of many murals in Pontiac

Mike and Nancy Meyers on their Rans Sevo Recumbent Tandem

Me

Me again

Bikes parked outside The Plam's in Atlanta for a breakfast of homemade pies

Jim, Don, Al, and me at Baby Bull's in Pontiac

Next To The Last Day--on to Willowbrook

2011-06-08T15:11:00.000-05:00

Pix say it best.

Jim under the Gemini Giant in Wilmington

Another mural, this one in Wilmington

Another hot day for Lon and all the riders

Final dinner at the Route 66 famous Del Rhea

Lon auctioning the Route 66 map for $750 to Lenny. Proceeds will support Lon's educational projects in Peru.

End of Route 66--The Tour and The Road

2011-06-08T15:10:00.000-05:00

Next time I ride with PAC it will be 2012 and I'll be an Arizona resident--WooHoo!

A HUGE thanks to Susan Rosenblatt for being the resident photographer for the entire trip. You did an awesome job.

Last rest stop before Lou Mitchell's for breakfast

Almost There

Susan Wells, Susan Rosenblatt, and Susan Reed

Buckingham Fountain

Chicago style mural in an underpass

This bike as traveled the entire Mother Road

See you on the next Route 66 PAC Tour

Once again, pix say it best.

Calvin's Challenge

2011-05-11T11:31:00.005-05:00

Jeff Rogers

Calvin’s was handedly one of my most gratifying one-day rides. Yes, the 186.5 miles in 11:30 felt good, actually really good; but the gratification was much more about all the little things that I learned and changes that I made between Calvin’s 2010 and Calvin’s 2011.

For starters I had never “raced” and actually didn’t think, in 2010, of Calvin’s as being a race. Yes, I knew it was timed, but...just naive, I’d say. So, in 2010 I didn’t think racing strategies. Just showed up to ride.

2011 I was thinking ‘race’ and showed up early at the start along the HS driveway semi-circle that served as Loop Counting and Start/Finish and staked out a golden spot for my cooler full of non-allergenic goodies to sustain me through the ride and into the long evening at the Awards Ceremony.

2010 I was still getting sick, sick, sick in the stomach, every time I rode and didn’t know why. Who woulda’ thunk that Hammer HEED was a performance stopper. But, shortly after Calvin’s 2010, thanks to a hot tip from Sandy Earl, I eliminated HEED and I eliminated getting sick! So, what’s in my bottles now? One scoop of Hammer Sustained Energy and 2 scoops of Clif Electrolyte Replacement Drink--a winning combo for me.

Embarrassed to say, but I’ve also become a fan of RedBull; I’m otherwise, compulsively attentive to what I put into my fuel tank. But April 30th at Calvin’s 2011 three small cans of Red Bull were in my cooler--my special treat after each 50 mile loop.

2010 I rode my Lightning P-38, my steady friend for 7 +/- years and 80,000+ miles. But in 2011 I showed up on my new-to-me Bacchetta Ti Aero. Don’t think I was imagining things, but what a HUGE difference this bike did make. I’m a believer in the B!!!

Added a new Bent Up Cycles Aero Seat Bag which allowed me to carry 2 more water bottles, in addition to the 2 mounted on my carbon seat frame. Clearly helps to be able to go twice as long without having to change out bottles.

That the weather was PERFECT, even by non-Calvin’s standards--no rain, decent temp, but yes, some wind, along with no mechanicals added to the days gratification.

My goal was to ride a 300k (186 miles) in 12 hours. That seemed quite attainable given my times for several round-trip jaunts to Milwaukee and a recent 300k. I made my goal at 11:30. I chose not to ride another 7 mile loop, although I had plenty of time to do so. Somehow 193 just didn’t have a ring to it, and I didn’t have time to do 2 more loops and hit the coveted 200 miles in 12 hours.

Had I 4 bottles on my bike and 4 more bottles pre-filled, so all I had to do was swap them out, and had I known that, if all conditions were right, a 200 was within reach, I’m confident I could have hit that mark, as well.
While there will not be another Calvin’s in my future, since we’re moving to Tucson in the Fall, there will be lots of WARM 300k’s, 200 milers, and 12-Hr’s out in AZ and Southern CA which will be fun opportunities for me to push my limits.

Thanks Calvin’s!!

GLR 200k

2011-05-09T10:59:00.004-05:00

The Great Lakes Randonneur’s 200k (GLR) was my 2011 ‘debut’ organized ride on my new-to-me Bacchetta Ti Aero and was it a successful, joyful ride!

The Super 8 in Delavan, WI is GLR start-finish headquarters. Compared to true Ultracyclists I’m just a dabbler in the margins, but then I got started in this this long distance stuff only about five years ago at age 60. Reflecting on my first 200k with GLR in 2007 I knew no other riders. Four years later I knew about a third of the 25-30 riders whose fingers were crossed for “decent” April midwest weather. Indeed we were blessed by a brief respite from the endless rains of April. The wind, however, didn’t let us forget it was still in charge. The good news was that we got the 25-30 mph head and cross winds over with in the first 100 miles. The last 30 miles were then full of tailwind sweetness.

I had visions of riding some miles with Jeff Rogers, my nearly-next-door-riding buddy, and Bettina Cuneo,a fellow Vision Quest member. But the next day was Easter and Kirk (my husband) and I were to join our daughter and her family for a pre-Easter dinner in Algonquin, IL at 5:30. That meant I had to complete the ride by 4:00, be in the car by 4:30 to be at dinner by 5:30. So, a steady pace was the operative which meant I really didn’t share any miles with Jeff or Bettina. :-(

But, an unexpected joy was the appearance of Scott Christopherson, riding a Volae, appeared by my side at about mile 7. Usually the way these side-by-sides work out is you say howdy-do and after less than 5 minutes you both realize that your paces/riding styles are not matched and one of you pulls ahead and out of sight. But not so with Scott. We rode and rode and rode together ending up riding the next 120 miles together pulling, pushing, and challenging each other along the way.

Scott was worth his weight in proverbial gold when at mile 71 I flatted. The sodden pavement from 2 weeks of rain, and especially from the pouring the night before, cursed many riders with flats. My 36 mm valve stem on my spare tube was too short for my slightly aeroed Velocity Spartacus rims. Fortunately I had thrown in a second spare tube with a 48 mm valve stem. But, time-wise, what that meant was we got to change this tire twice.

I would have made it back to the Super 8 by 4:00 had I not had the flat; I made it to Algonquin by 6:00 instead of 5:30, and was able to share a quick bite of Easter Dinner before heading off to Easter Eve services.

My take-aways from this ride were several:
1) my network of riding buddies and contacts have greatly expanded in the last 4-5 years. I attribute most all of that connectedness to being a part of the PAC Tour family.

2) Recumbents DO, indeed, ride differently than uprights. I have known that, but when I look the camaraderie sustained over long miles that I shared with 6 other bents at the NOLA 300k in February and on this 200k with Scott, it put a huge underscore on that reality.

3) I’m rally looking forward to doing more brevets, 12-HR challenge rides and Double Centuries after we move to Arizona later this year.

PAC Tour"s Desert Camp Century Week

2011-03-27T13:38:00.003-06:00

One of Many Rest Stops

Lon, Veronica Beagan, and me

Bisbee Architecture

This was my first time back with PAC Tour since my 2009 Transcontinental ride from Portland, OR to Tybee Island, GA. Since then I have, at least for now, resolved my forever-expanding nutritional issues of dietary intolerances which had really compromised my performance on the Transcon.

It was so good to be back with the Fold, or as someone called PAC Tour--somewhere between a Cult and a Family; I'll stick with The Fold. It doesn't take long before you have a bunch of riding buddies from all over the country as well as the UK, Canada, and Australia.

It was also amazing to feel and see the difference in my ability to veritably power up the climbs that had daunted me in 2009 when at Desert Camp that year. That's a tribute to resolution of my nutritional/fueling issues and an especially good feeling as I'm now two years older--65 and some months.

PAC has been leading bicycle tours for exceptional cyclists for over 30 years and with a 75% return rate of satisfied customers it stands to reason that it's an older bunch of folks. I was struck with how many of our riders on Century Week had experienced life-reorganizing events in the last year: knee replacements, broken hips, hip replacements, bike accidents, Lyme's Disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, spouses with end stage Cancer, professional disappointments, and still they ride. Victor Gallo is well into planning his Team RAAM in 2012--a 4-man team with the average age of the rider being 80. That is a pure and simple statement about the commitment of these riders to their health, cycling, and the gifts of ultra-riding.

The contrast between our group of svelte cyclists was never more apparent than when a tour bus arrived disgorging about 25 tourists, all overweight Americans, most of whom were our same ages, and who needed help with their luggage. Hmmmm.

This week we saw BIG winds as well as the towns of Bisbee, Tombstone, Coronado Monument, Ft. Huachuca, Sonoita, Patagonia, and desert glory every day.

I learned hubbing out of one town, in this case Sierra Vista, works much better for me than riding point-to-point: better restaurants and decent grocery stores which helped with my nutritional issues, as well as the opportunity to mix and match routes rather than feeling compelled to follow the prescribed route of the day.

It was glorious to get out of the Chicago's endless winter and to know that I'll call Tucson home in exactly 6 months.

NOLA 300k

2011-03-14T19:44:00.008-06:00

Rob Welsh is a matchmaker. He is also the Regional Brevet Administrator (RBA) for the Twin Cities Randonneuring Club and a veteran of PAC Tour’s Elite Transcontinental 2010 Ride.

Rob Welsh is responsible for introducing me to Michelle Williams, the RBA for the Jackson, MS Randonneuring Club, a veteran of PAC Tour’s 2010 Northern Transcontinental, and will be my riding partner in our August, 2011 Circle Tour of Lake Michigan.

But the weekend of February 26th my Lightning P-38, Fern’s her name, and I flew to Jackson, MS and then Michelle and I drove to New Orleans for the Crescent City Randonneur’s 300k (minimum of 186 miles). No way I’d get a 300k in Chicago in February, that’s for sure.

Of course when you’re in a new place you notice everything that has become so ho-hum to the locals, so ho-hum that sometimes they don’t even notice it at all. My forever memory of New Orleans will be the Mississippi River. Sounds funny coming from an Illinoian whose entire state is boundaried by the very same river. But MY Mississippi, the places where I’ve crossed it all my adult life, is just a little bit bigger version of the Fox or Illinois, or Des Plaines or Chicago--nothing special except for the lore of Tom and Huck. But in New Orleans there are barges, and tugs, and container ports, and evidence of round the clock world wide shipping efforts that made me think I was on a cruise ship coming in to Port. And in the black of night the banks both north and south sparkled in phosphorescence as the heart work of the River beat on and on.

And of course there were those French names like Lake Pontchatrain and Ponchatoula, and water everywhere--canals, and estuaries, and swamps, and bayous--and still the stories of Hurricane Katrina, August 29, 2005 are told as if they were just yesterday.

This was a most special 300 for me because all seven of us were on recumbents: 2 Carbon Bacchettas, 3 Ti Aero Bacchettas, 1 Lightning P-38, and 1 Tour Easy. Not very often am I a member of the majority, but that’s a way-good feeling.

So Michelle and I are riding along somewhere about mile 150 and she asked me what my all-time favorite ride was. I do believe this ride, this 300k was my all-time favorite one-day ride; it had the makings of all kinds of goodness:
new territory
all bent riders
good fellowship--all of us rode together for the entire 192 miles
perfect weather--mid 70’s
no mechanicals
no body issues
no routing issues
and a decent time--just over 14 hours including the 3 hours off the bike!!

But that got me thinking about all the other now 100,000 miles I’ve ridden in the last 10 years and what do I remember of those?

My list is long and sweet: distances and climbs I thought impossible; PAC Tour for showing me the how-to’s of multi-day, long distance biking; the goodness of so many people along the roads who have lent a helping hand--a lift in a front loader, or pick-up truck, the unwavering support of my husband, dear friends, and adult children who have celebrated my victories, sat my by bedside in hospitals after a bad day on the bike, who let me cry the tears of disappointment when I fell short of my expectations of myself, and who had the wisdom to know that to try to curtail my yearning for the road less traveled would be tantamount to sucking the very marrow from my soul.

Thanks to all of you.

Costa Rica Take-Aways

2011-01-31T11:44:00.009-06:00

While this was my only my second solo cycle (the first being two days earlier in Aruba) into land not native to my culture, my language, and absent of all communication resources, I remain intrepid, undaunted, but wiser, I hope.

What will I do differently next time?

Having an abundance of spare tubes is definitely on my packing list for future such events.

Clearly the most significant contributor to my stomach gripping angst was my 50 word Spanish vocabulary. Carlos might have been a truly upstanding citizen committed to aiding this damsel in distress. I had only his nonverbals and direction of travel (which was opposite from where I needed to go) to judge his character and my safety.

As soon as we settle in Tucson in October, 2011 I will join the other Rosetta Stone enthusiasts and will become proficient in survival Spanish. Of course, I could find myself in a non-Spanish speaking country at some point, in which case I will be armored with a few survival words and a survival phrase book.

In a word, would I do it again?

Absolutely!
Click here for a 3-1/2 minute movie of pictures taken on the Cruise

Lemonade in Limon, Costa Rica

2011-01-31T11:16:00.008-06:00

Tilda and I were ready to stretch out again. We were to be in port from 7:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.: plenty of time to get a street map, plan a route, and grab at least 50 miles of sun, surf, and jungle. With a little more fore planning and a 7:30 departure I fantasized it would have been possible to make up that lost Ft. Lauderdale century. But hey, 50 would be great. So, off to Cahuita we headed.

My first observation was that there are no road signs or route markings. I had only to turn left (west) out of the cruise port and left again (south) on to Rt 36 which would take me directly to Cahuita. The gas station at the 2nd left seemed an appropriate place to confirm I was on route. Indeed I was, but the driver who pulled in behind me at the pump encroached my personal space big time finally stopping within 1 inch of Tilda’s rear wheel, a reminder that personal space is, indeed, culturally defined.
Within two miles I was open and free of urbanity and lovin’ it--Mar Caribe on my left and jungle on my right with occasional shanties made of whatever was available at the time of construction. The road was lightly traveled, but the 4-16 wheelers pushed their speed to at least double the posted 60 kph slaloming the many and rugged pot holes across both unmarked lanes. Again, the rules of Chicken engagement prevailed with the contenders of shared space simply waving and maybe giving a “hi neighbor” toot of salute.

The Sloth Sanctuary at 17 miles offered a welcome pit stop, not many of those in North America. A couple miles further, at only the second intersection of any kind, was a gas station replete with bottled water, diet coke, and red bull all of which, after much punching of calculator buttons to convert Colons into dollars, I got for $4.00.
I noted several photo ops I'd take advantage of on my return ride to the ship. Little did I know then that I would not be snagging those pix and that I would revisit this gas station 5 more times in the cab of a pickup truck with Carlos, Tilda banging around in the back bay with no assurance that I would ever make it back to the safety of my ship.

Machetes, Rock Roads, and Deserted Beaches

2011-01-31T10:49:00.007-06:00

On my return, after my turn around in Cahuita, between the now famous gas station and the Sloth Sanctuary, whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz, Tilda’s rear wheel flatted, not a blow out, not a slow leak that finally collapsed upon its rim, but rather just a sudden release of all she had. The same wheel had flatted after Aruba, then just the tiniest pin prick from who knows what locatable only by submerging in water and seeing the release of tiny bubbles. The patch didn’t hold so I replaced the tube, now not having any more tubes with me. If the culprit was another pin prick locatable only by submersion, where was I going to find water, other than the ocean? By the sound of the whizzzzzzzzzzz, I feared a much larger unpatchable hole. Walking 20 miles back to ship was not an option: I would miss my ship’s sail away. Best to start walking, I figured, keeping my hitchhiking eye open for a police, ambulance, or service/utility vehicle heading north toward Limon.

A Chaquita banana plantation appeared before any potential transport options. I’d attempt to plead my dilemma with my 50 words of Spanish to the plantation workers who had only an equal number of English words. After many futile words and and an equal number of futile pantomimes, a bilingual appeared on the scene, Andres, who loaded me in the cab and Tilda in the bay of his Chaquita truck and off to the gas station we went to find a local who would be willing to drive me the 20-25 miles back to Limon. There were no official taxis outside of Limon proper, so, if I wanted a SAG lift, I would have to submit to the local rules of hired engagement. Andres negotiated a $30.00 transport charge paid upfront in dollars, seemingly a good deal since I had heard $40 and $50 bandied about.

But here’s the fist catch.

Before taking me to Limon, we had to take this woman home who was already parked in the passenger seat of Carlos’ pick-up truck. Tilda would ride in the truck bay. We quickly established that I knew no Spanish and Carlos knew no English, nor did passenger lady. Passenger lady lived 6 miles NOT in the direction of my needed travel and then yet another two miles deep into the jungle where I never saw a house. The road, such as it was, was made of rocks the size of hard balls, soft balls, and maybe a very few golf balls. In addition there were axle destroying cow-sized divots and serpentine ruts. Along the rock road we stopped to pick up two broad-smiling, edentulous, machete bearing men with knee-high rubber boots. Never learned if the boots were to protect against jungle rot, jungle mud, jungle snakes, or all of the above.

Finally back on the paved road having disgorged passenger lady and the machete men, I breathed a sigh of hopeful anticipation that my ship would soon be in view. But no, we stopped again at the gas station, this time to refuel. I pull out a peanut butter Larabar which, through pantomime, I understand Carlos wanted to share.

Back on the road, we pass the Sloth Sanctuary, and I’m feeling good. Except now Carlos starts honking at everyone we see walking along the road. Not a warning honk, but kind of a “wanna ride” honk. The thought of more rock roads begins to churn my stomach. But, apparently he knows most everyone along Rt 36 and is simply saying “hi”. Ok, that's fine.

Lotta words and even more gesticulations and we’re off road again, this time onto a hard-packed sand, dirt, and equally axle destroying “road” heading south again about 1 1/2 miles (away from Limon and my ship) along the beach, or playa (I do know that word). There is NO hint of civilization anywhere.

The precariousness of my situation grabs my throat, my heart, and my stomach all at the same time. No amount of my fractured Spanish turns his vehicle northward. We get to the very end of the jungle road and stop; he gets out of the car to pee. Great. Am I to be abducted? Ransomed? Raped? Murdered? And I’m still 20 miles from ship and my Spanish has not improved in the last hour. He honks his horn and a 40-something, fit-looking male emerges from under a palm frond. I am now sandwiched between both men straddling the gear shift. Carlos sets the gear in drive, but we’re stuck in sand. Thankfully, between Carlos’ rocking between drive and reverse, and passenger man’s pushing, we’re moving forward once again.

Finally we’re on the paved road once again. Limon?, I ask. “No.” And we head south again for yet another stop at the gas station, this time so passenger man can use the ATM. Passenger man lives another 10 minutes away, via a different hard road. He is finally disgorged and we return to the gas station for what turns out to be the last time. Seems we just buzzed it so he could wave to his buddies there, all of whom have seen me now 6 times in about 3 hours. This doesn’t seem like a good thing.

“Limon now”, I query? Yes, Limon now. Hopefulness doesn’t come easily. He begins to mumble: Tengo hambre, which I know means he’s hungry. That’s all I need is for him to decide to find a place to eat on “my time”.

Then, lots of words, Spanish words, they’re coming fast, with animation and feeling. About what I don’t know, but I sense this is about money. I plead ignorance, “no comprendo”. We stop again this time at a little constellation of commercial shacks, more local people than I’ve seen in 4 hours. Soon, Watson joins Carlos at the car to serve as translator. Seems Carlos made a mistake and the fare is not $30, but he needs $20 more. Much talk through Watson and we settle on $10 more. He doesn’t want Colons, he wants only dollars. I only have a $20 so I and over my $20 and receive my change in Colons. Not sure what I’m going to do with Colons. But, at least Carlos is back in the car and driving in the right direction.

Finally, stepping out of the truck in sight of my ship, my knees weakened and my blood sugar sunk below empty. I didn’t even mind all the hucksters scrambling for the tourist dollar outside the ship’s secure perimeter. It was music to my ears, so much so I bought a coconut with some of my Colons. Never has a comfort beverage tasted so good.

Tilda and I reboarded the ship at 2:45 having been gone for over 5 hours of which I biked only 2 for a total of 31.5 miles. I have no idea how many miles I traveled by car on my return to the ship. All I know is my “shore excursion” is, to date, my most memorable.

There are lessons to be learned from this international adventure. But as I write, my return to safety is still only hours old. It will take a little time for integrated wisdom to prevail.

p.s. Tilda’s flat was a rubber malfunction at the site of the bond where the stem’s attachment patch meets the tube. Big hole. Hope to find a bike shop in Ocho Rios, Jamaica to buy a new tube for my last riding opp on this cruise: not deterred, hopefully smarter, though.

Panama Canal

2011-01-31T10:30:00.003-06:00

Colon, Panama is also cycling adverse with its 16 avenues and 5 streets and nary one stop light. The roadways are engorged with vehicles, the larger one filling the lane to the edge of the sidewalk, sometimes encroaching upon ped rights. Right of way is determined by rules of engagement perfected since childhood in the game of Chicken. A little-wheeled, English speaking tourist would not survive.

Our visit to Panama was all about the Canal, not about the bike. After all, experiencing the Panama Canal was what we had come for and it fulfilled all of our expectations and then some. When you come we can recommend David McCollough’s Path Between The Seas as pre-canal reading.

Click here for pix of our passage through the Panama Canal.

Cartagena, Columbia

2011-01-31T10:07:00.003-06:00

No riding for Tilda and me in Cartagena. It's a churning metropolis of more than 1 million and definitely is not bike friendly. Check out the pix, though, on Flickr of our walking tour of the Old, Walled City.

Aruba By Tikit

2011-01-31T09:44:00.007-06:00

Tilda simply frolicked off the ship in Aruba much like an untrained Dalmatian puppy, her wheels ready to grip the road and explore the 75 square miles of this one happy island. There is really only one main road on the ellipse-shaped Aruba. From the port north to the California Lighthouse, where the paved road ends, is about 8 flat miles. (Nearly 60% of the Island’s perimeter road is unpaved.) Wind can be an issue, as it can be on any island; and it was, but only briefly, given the wind direction du jour. Kirk walked 4 miles to the Cancun-style Hotel Zone where he’d beach to read. We rendezvoused at a pre-arranged check point just to make sure we were both A-OK, and we were.

I rode on to nearly to the terminus of the paved road on the south end of the Island and “buzzed” the Aloe Factory before returning to the ship for a mid-day sail away.

Aruba is definitely bike-friendly: good roads, plenty of service options, enough civilization to feel connected, but not so much as to cramp your wheeling style.

Tilda On Cruise

2011-01-31T09:24:00.007-06:00

For at least 6 months I had been looking forward to my January UMCA Century in Ft. Lauderdale, FL.

I would arrive one day ahead of Kirk and two days ahead of our Panama Cruise to stretch out my winter legs with a glorious Vitamin D-rich ride from Ft. Lauderdale to West Palm and back. Credit for my route goes to John, owner of several Permanents in South Florida.

But, as it sometimes goes when the success of an event hangs on the perfection of a single day, Monday was full of rain and I succumbed to the whims of air born offenders unleashed by the air conditioning unit in my exclusive Super 8 motel. Tuesday the sun was robust, but I, alas, was not. 100 miles it would not be, however the 36 miles north to Boca Raton and back was sheer, sunny delight.

Tilda did not resist being stowed once again in her suitcase knowing she’d be able to feel the road and stretch her cables in Aruba in just a couple of days.

Indoor Century and Year-Rounder Challenges, DONE!

2010-12-08T07:09:00.001-06:00

PowerTap data from the IronMan FL course done on the computrainer at VQ
I'm breathing a deep breath of satisfied accomplishment. Jay Marshall was an inspiration to me a couple of years ago. He had accepted the UMCA's Year-Rounder challenge of completing a century a month. Not a difficult challenge except for Jan, Feb, and Dec, at least if one lives in the northern climes, which I do.

On my way to sign up for the Century-per-month challenge I found myself also accepting the 3,000 mile challenge wherein each ride must be 90 miles or greater in length completed within the time frames established for Randonneuring.

Really glad I accepted both challenges. They brought great focus, intentionality, and creativity to my 2010 riding.

I got my January Century in HI when Kirk and I were there; my February Century in Death Valley when riding with Adventure Corps, my March Century in AZ and then it got easy until December.

Looking at a real feel temp of -7 today and not much hope for the remaining days of December can surely not be expected to be balmy. So, with the help of Vision Quest Coaching (VQ) I set out today to ride an indoor century. Never done that before and frankly was not looking forward to it.

But, as Robbie Ventura would say, I got it done, and done in a manner I feel good about.

100 miles
average speed 17.6
average watts 143 (better than 80% of my LT)
elapsed time 05:41:52
two 3-minute breaks off the bike

So on December 6, 2010 my Century/month challenge is satisfied and my 3,000 mi challenge wraps up with 32 rides of 90 miles or greater for a total mileage of 3,490

My own challenge was to ride another 12,000 mile year. As of December 6th I have 11,871. While I've learned never to count it done till it's done, it seems like pretty much a done deal that all I have to do is show up at VQ the rest of the month and my challenge goal will be met.

Thanks for challenging me, inspiring me, problem solving with me, and for some of you, riding some of these miles with me.

Riding The Natchez Trace With Steve

2010-11-24T10:56:00.014-06:00

This map is just one way, so double the distance and the CEG (Cumulative Elevation Gain. Click on the map to see the details).

I met Steve climbing the Mingus Mountains from Wickenburg, to Cottonwood, AZ September 13, 2006, Day 4 of our 26 day Transcontinental bike ride with PAC Tour. The first 3 days we crossed the California Desert; the temperature was 110; there was no relief, not even a shade cactus.

I didn’t know until nearly two years later that Steve had been beaten up real bad by the desert on Day 3 and was just barely hanging on to the ridge of the Mingus. Steve’s an excellent climber; I am not. Had he been his usual riding self we would never have met. I would have been summarily left in the wake of his desert dust.

Lucky for us the desert and the mountains equalized us and partners we were climbing 8,500’ straight up the Mingus.

In April, 2008 I rode solo from home, (Wilmette, IL) to Columbus, GA. My choice of departure date is a testament to my then naivete about cycling in a transitional season. Day 5 I arrived in Owensboro, KY 431 miles after my departure. Every day had been mid 30’s with endless rain and endless head winds. Steve’s wife drove him 85 miles from their home in Smiths Grove, KY to Owensboro to meet me. Our plan was to ride together to Russellville, KY on day 6 and Nashville, TN on Day 7.

I think I made it about 20 miles that Owensboro morning in yet another day of temps in the 30’s, rain, and wind. I simply couldn’t turn the cranks. I was still shivering from the 6 preceding yesterdays. The terrain was getting hillier, and my 50 pounds of gear still weighed 50 pounds. Steve had been so looking forward to two days on the bike, like a kid looks forward to Christmas, and I couldn’t even turn the cranks.

I was committed to being in Nashville on Day 7 so laying over in Owensboro for a rest day was not an option. I had no idea how I was going to get to Nashville. Steve and I huddled under the awning of an abandoned building weighing our options. My best contribution was somehow renting a car and driving to Nashville. Steve had a better idea: call his wife, have her meet us and take us to their home. All I knew was I couldn’t ride that day. There was no fuel in my tank.

I remember very little about the 80-odd mile trip to Smiths Grove. But I do remember after I showered I fell asleep for 4 hours with the lights on in the middle of the day buried under a haystack of down comforters.

Steve in front of his house in Smiths Grove, KY April, 2008

Steve drove me to Nashville the next day and never said a word about his disappointment in not getting to ride.

2009 I was riding my second PAC Tour transcontinental and Steve was training to ride PAC Tour’s Eastern Mountain Tour. He drove to Pine Bluff, AR and then rode with us to Clarksdale, MS.

So, it seemed only natural to give him a heads-up that I would be coming to Nashville mid-November for a professional meeting after which I wanted to get some miles in on the Natchez Trace, including my November UMCA century.

And so it was it came to be that Steve left Smiths Grove, KY about 4:15 a.m. and I left Nunnelly, TN about the same time for our rendezvous in Columbia, TN; loaded the bikes into one car and drove to mile marker 391 on the Trace and headed south for the Alabama Line, mile marker 341.

(Click on the pix to read the sign. Pretty interesting story)

Chilly, but sunny this Sunday century day. Collinwood would be the only service opportunity along our route. We stopped at the Collinwood’s Exxon at 10:30 to refill our bottles and found Exxon is the Place du Jour! The place was packed with little, elf-sized men whose bodies had shrunk with age but who still had enough skin to cover their robust bodies of long ago. Their toothless grins offered exceptional patterns for jack-o-lanterns; their beards laid fallow like harvested fields of corn.

Back on the Trace to the Alabama line and then back to Collinwood for lunch and another bottle refilling. The elves had given life to one another for another day and the crowd was replaced with men, women, and children heading home from church. Who woulda thunk that Exxon would be the dining option of choice! When the minister and his wife came in for Sunday dinner at Exxon, well, it was both the highlight and lowlight of the tour.

Signage in the 4 star Exxon Sunday Restaurant

Steve had been looking forward to these two days on the bike like he had back in April, 2008. I was grateful I could deliver this time and be a fully-able riding partner.

Portland Transcontinental--The Movie

2010-10-18T20:03:00.003-05:00

Portland Transcon: The Movie
Click on the link to view the movie.

My first back injury occurred in the early 1960‘s as a young teenager. My back disease seemed to be a debilitating combination of genetics, running for 13 years, complicated child births, a major auto accident, and the Western World life style characterized by a lot of sitting.

In 1990 I re-injured my back and began an eleven-year recovery process including multiple back surgeries and complicated physical rehabilitation.

My eventual recovery was also about my surrendering my years-of-practice modus operandi of, not being willing or able to ask for help or accept help. Back disease taught me about building a team of professionals family and friends who could partner with me on my journey , not in an enabling or abusive way, but in a way of lending their experience, strength, and hope in ways that would allow me to find my own freedom in recovery.

There was no single magic pill, intervention, or therapist. Some professional team members were traditional health care providers, e.g. neurosurgeons and physical therapists. Others were practitioners specializing in holistic, complementary, and non-traditional modalities.

In March, 2001, after 11 years of being on the cusp of disability, my physical therapist and I thought maybe I was well enough to begin some kind of physical activity.

My goal was to ride the 550-mile AIDS Ride from Minneapolis to Chicago in 2002, on a recumbent bike. On my maiden ride, the day after I bought my first recumbent bike, I crashed breaking my jaw, my wrist, and several teeth. I had facial lacerations, severe road rash and internal bleeding. I was back on the bike training in earnest for the AIDS Ride in two weeks.

What is it about the bike? Riding, for me, is an expression of who I am, about freedom, gratitude, and humility. It’s about pushing the envelope, chasing the demon that lives in thin air, challenging my self to stretch, excelling, asking for help, and giving God all the glory for anything that I accomplish.

Twenty years later I continue to receive integrated manual therapy and nutritional counseling, and practice Bikram YOGA and Pilates. I have added other professionals to my health care team as needed.

Since 2002 I have averaged more than 10,000 miles each year on the bike. The highlight of 2006 was a 3,000 mile, 26-day transcontinental ride from San Diego to Tybee Island, GA with PAC Tour.

In 2008 I did two solo, unsupported rides, each about 1,000 miles--one from Chicago to Columbus, GA, the other from Chicago to Stoddard, NH.

I rode a second transcontinental in 2009 (Portland, OR to Tybee Island, GA), again with PAC Tour. Even though I was nearly 64, I struggled not with my age but with nutritional issues that resulted in my getting only about 1/3 of the calories I needed to fuel thirty (30) back-to-back, 116 mile days (3,500 miles).

The Portland Transcon taught me more about asking for help, accepting help, accepting my limitations, and remaining grateful for the gift of being out there.

Memories: Micro, Gestalt, and Tortugas

2010-10-14T09:49:00.005-05:00

(click the pix to see the baby Tortugas)

Of course we'll remember Cancun 2010: the trip we'd been planning for 10 months, bought our airline tickets with points on Mexicana and a month before the flight we got the ubiquitous call: "there has been a change in your itinerary, please call us." Significant, indeed, it was. Mexicana had gone out of business and felt no compunction or responsibility to refund our money or rebook us on an airline that was still flying.

We'll remember always how much Kirk, especially, was looking to a change in scenery, venue, and the roil of surf right outside our patio door.

We'll remember always taking a cab, plane, cab, ferry, and golf cart to get to our villa on Isla Mujeres, reminiscent of the movie, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

We'll remember always our first meal on Isla of Ceviche at Picus.

We'll remember always notification by the Resort Staff to attend a meeting of all guests at 11:00 a.m. to learn how they would be evacuating us from Isla Mujeres to Cancun in anticipation of a direct hit by Hurricane Paula.

We'll remember always spending the rest of the day following the evacuation plan, arriving in our new accommodations in a lovely room at Avalon Grand, except to reach it you had to climb 62 steps and traverse two steep ramps, outside, in the rain, with no elevator option.

We'll remember always watching workers board up the windows and shops closing their doors to wait out the storm which ultimately turned east and hit Cuba instead of Cancun/Isla Mujeres.

We'll remember always Alejandro, the 26 y.o. front desk clerk at Isla who excelled in his customer service at Isla and who shared a big piece of his poignant story with us as we waited at the Ferry Dock waiting to be evacuated. Kirk is hopeful he can arrange for Alejandro to participate in Spanish Town in 2011 as a Guide.

We’ll remember always Kirk’s billfold continuing to ride on the Old Cancun bus without him.

We'll remember always releasing 2 of the 125 day-old baby sea turtles into the sea praying the birds of prey wouldn't snatch them before they reached safety. Wonder where safety is for those little guys?

But there are other memories that are likely to recede from the conscious realm only to be reawakened upon return to experience Mexico anew:

__The recognizable smell of Cancun as soon as exiting the plane and before stepping onto the the jetway

__Paper napkins that virtually dissolve when wet

__Absence of pedestrian walk lights so peds, scooters, buses, cabs, and cars all jockey for crossing rights

__Steps everywhere that are unregulated in height, even in the same flight

__Sidewalks that are actually humorous, if you're able bodied, as they are anything but flat, chunky cement, curb irregularities galore, and full of mid-block steps into houses and shops. If you're mobility challenged, well, even a wheelchair pusher would not be up to the task. "Kneeling buses", unheard of.

__Light switches in the villa that require key card insertion. That requires a lot of key cards unless you like leaving one room in the dark, groping to the next to insert your key card once again.

__Street signs painted on the sides of the buildings at a height of 20 feet in binoculars-required hand printed fonts, and there is no consistency on what corner (N,E,S, W) the signage will appear. Oneway signs are hand painted pieces of wood nailed to whatever, if ever.

__Garage parking meters are emptied by two, unarmed women removing the canister and dumping the coins into a bag, spilling coins all over the ground. That's the job of the second woman: pick up the spilled coins. No armored vehicles here!

__Bus fare is collected by the driver, change is made, and fares stored in open box.

__Construction workers jackhammering in flip flops.

__Peanut butter is unheard of.

__Seeming absence of locals over the age of 55. Where are they? Are they?

__Beaten down weariness of the visage, shoulders, and step of the locals riding the bus from the Hotel Zone to "real Cancun" where over 450,000 live out their lives.

Biking Isla Mujeres

2010-10-14T09:47:00.003-05:00

This was not my first immersion in Isla life. I knew the streets were cobbled and full of axel-disemboweling speed bumps known either as Topes or Sleeping Policemen. I knew from the tippy north to the tippy south and back was at the most 10 miles, unless I zigged and zagged across the east west streets, each of which was at the most 0.3 of a mile. Isla would not be about the bike; it would be about us and rest.

I also know that I’m not a good walker and poop out after a couple of miles not to be renewed till manana. I also know that my urban, shoe-protected delicate toe pads are ground to bleeding pulp within the first 6 hours of arriving in the Caribbean clime of grade AAAAAA white sand. Toes wrapped in mole skin and riding elevated on Tilda’s pedals is a hopeful solution.

Lunch today at Playa Lancheros, about 5k from our villa. Tilda and I arrived 15 minutes ahead of Kirk who taxied out and walked home by way of the Turtle Farm. Chicago will never be able to offer fresh caught barracuda cooked in the tikinxik manner, which I imagine to be similar to a Tandoori oven, and served at your table in the sand. Definitely one of our Isla traditions.

Locusts and Wild Honey

2010-10-14T09:43:00.003-05:00

First order of business on Isla is to introduce Tilda to “The Super”, a grocery store the likes of an Aldi + a minimal Dollar Store in the States (see her parked outside waiting patiently?). This is my first trip to Isla since my food issues have been in full bloom. I had low expectations but left with lower results: an avocado, powdered soy milk, filtered water, and a bag of rice which, once we returned to our villa, I realized I would not be cooking after all since rice cooked from scratch in the microwave wouldn’t be happening, especially since the largest available cooking container held only 6 ounces.

My Starbucks-style Tea, Steamed Soy Misto looks and tastes quite a bit different with powdered Soya Leche. I’d brought Stevia from home, but forgot my honey packets cached from Starbucks overage. Back to the Super, Tilda and I for honey, or miel as it’s known in Spanish. First they thought I wanted money from the cash station, then they thought I was using a term of endearment (I guess Honey is universal), and then finally the answer: “No Miel at the Super.”

I met Kirk for lunch after my unsuccessful honey trip to the Super. Along the way we asked a local resident for directions and fell to talking about Miel. He had a half liter of the unprocessed pure liquid gold, straight from the bees of the Yucatan. His half liter cost him 200 pesos, about $20 USD; we gave him 50 pesos for the 2 oz left in his travel bottle.

I don’t know how people with dietary limitations make it in places like Isla; just really don’t know. My solution has been to buy an order of rice, potatoes, plantains, and save some of my dinner entree for breakfast. Then, hunt and peck through restaurants and menus one day at a time, ODAT, for lunch and dinner.

Temporada Baja

2010-10-14T09:32:00.005-05:00

Low Season, that’s what it is here on Isla Mujeres, that sleepy little Isle 20 minutes by the fast ferry from Puerta Juarez, Cancun.

In Temporada Alta, High Season, Isla wears her “stage face” by day full of unrelenting hawking of unwanted garish 10-cent jewelry, barracuda sun-bleached jaws replete with a full set of teeth, and conch shells devoid of their masters who were just served in the freshest ceviche you’ll ever eat at the likes of Picus, our favorite little seafood restaurant without walls, a canopy roof, and a beach floor. Picus is our first stop, always, after disembarking the ferry. We wheel our luggage, which this time included Tilda, on the beach floor up to the table and sigh that sigh of having made it back once again.

Isla teems with tourists from Cancun from about 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Then she returns to her shy, quiet, private self to rest and renew until the tourists return the following morning. But we’re here in Temporada Baja so the glare, blare, and crush by day is about 10% of January, and the stillness of after 6:00 is interrupted only by the pulsing surf that never rests.

Saison Accompli

2010-09-18T23:26:00.003-05:00

To each his own humor
Who woulda thunk mosquitoes would be worth a Nature Center?
Tis the season
Carved from a Cottonwood Tree
Glorious sunrise leaving Stevens Point for a 139 mile day

The Ferry Tour was, indeed, the capstone of my 2010 riding season.

I didn’t set out for it to be about “putting-it-all-together” about integration; but that’s what it turned out to be.

I finished the PAC Tour transcontinental in 2009 and the 2009 riding season broken and doubting, certain that my years had caught up with me and I could expect only a progressively sinking spiral of physical resources.

With low expectations I entered the off season without a lot of enthusiasm. Out of practiced discipline I just kept doing what I hoped would be the next right thing, whatever that really meant.

First it was rotator cuff surgery in December, then encouraging performance at Vision Quest Coaching in the computrainer lab, then multiple bike trips out of the winter and into the warm, then Bikram Yoga to improve my flexibility and balance, then the watershed discovery that I was allergic to an ingredient in the Hammer product I was using to fuel on the bike, then Pilates to strengthen my core, and then new orthotics to support my biomechanics toe to head.

By the time the 2010 riding season launched I seemed to have youthened 10 years: much pleasure challenging the glacial hills of Madison; successful fueling with a new potion in my water bottles, sharing destinations with Kirk, and solo, two and three-day rides of 120-150 miles per day.

And so, it came to be that The Ferry Tour was a triumphant fanfare celebrating the gift of wholeness in strength, balance, fullness of belly, riding friends here and there wherever I roam with whom to share some miles, the confidence and competence to solo navigate the miles far from home, and the joy of beating the sinking sun by eight minutes as day turned into night on the 6th day.

SS Badger

2010-09-12T20:35:00.006-05:00

Denise and Ken rode with me from the hotel to the SS Badger ferry dock in Ludington; they headed home (Muskegon) from there; I settled in for the 4-hour passage with Jhumpa Lahiri's novel, Namesake.

What are the odds of bumping into someone you know on the SS Badger? I'd say pretty slim. But bump I did into June and Bob Miller from church. We were all playing hookey. :)

What a difference a day makes. Gray skies replaced with blue, clouds replaced with cloudless, overcast with bright sun, 50 degrees with 75 degrees, no wind for WIND, and a head wind at that. But no complaints here after a wet yesterday.

The clearly autumnal feel of yesterday was replaced with a late summer quiet--the fields were resting, their florid growth over, ready for harvest; vibrant, silky green of corn and soy replaced with scratchy, noisy gold and brown. Farmers beginning to shave their corn field faces leaving the soil with the rough stubble of an old man's beard.

The fields of corn and soy and occasional lots of cattle wooed me into thinking I was in familiar turf. But the reality was I traveled the full distance from Manitowoc to Kimberly without nary a town or minimart. Had my Super 8 not arisen above the corn tops at mile 49/50, I was about to seek the hospitality of a local farmer. I'll save that for anther day.

Glorious day.

Day 2--Ludington

2010-09-12T20:27:00.004-05:00

Oh my, rain, rain, and steady rain for 65 of the 85 miles. Temp was probably mid 50's but it was anything but pleasant.

What a gift to have Ken and Denise riding with me.They know the roads well so we could choose the most weather-friendly route. I've ridden in Pentwater and environs with my recumbent buddies from Chicago. Fun to be back "putting it all together" for the Ferry Tour.

Mark asked me if it had been a scenic day. I could only answer, "I don't know." Guess I'm not very good at looking around and taking in the sights when it's pouring rain, I'm shivering, and wanna keep the rubber side down.

Chilli at the Sands Cafe in Silver Lake, hot tea, and sinfull French Fries helped warm us from the inside out. Still another 30+ miles to go to Ludington from there.

Funny how quickly you can forget the weather pains after you shower, clean the bike, and refuel.

Ready for another day on the bike.

Practice Makes Perfect

2010-09-12T20:16:00.004-05:00

The only Lake Express Ferry Crossing that would fit my schedule is a 12:30 departure. It's 75 miles door to door and I would have at least 25 pounds of gear loaded on the bike to support a 6-day tour. That leaves little time for smelling roses, changing tires, or missing a turn.

I test rode the route to the car ferry in mid-August. The route is truly doable in the given time frame. Next test was on Labor Day. How much slower would I be loaded with 25 pounds? Let's ride it an see. No problem. Punched it out in 5 hours.

Friday the 10th finally came. Mark and Jeff met me at my alley at 5:45 and off we went. They would ride with me 18 miles (Lake Bluff) and then turn around for breakfast and home. The weather gods were favorable so I easily arrived at the ferry dock before 11:00 for a 12:30 departure.

Ken met me at the dock in Muskegon; we rode to Denise's and then convoyed to dinner.

Sweeeeeeeeeeet day

Ferry Tour--The Inspiration and Reality

2010-09-12T20:02:00.005-05:00

Friday, September 10th would launch my 2010 Ferry Tour, a significant scale-back from my original plan to circumnavigate Lake Michigan this season. Alas my nutritional issues required my deferring the circumnavigation to another year buying me some time to explore nutritional solutions. The Ferry Tour was the more modest tour that seemed doable under my fueling circumstances.

The Plan:

Day 1: Wilmette, IL-->Milwaukee and ferry across Lake Michigan on the Lake Express Ferry to Muskegon. Over night with Denise, a bent rider friend since 2006 from PAC Tour Desert Camp.

Day 2: Muskegon--> Ludington, MI with Denise and her long-time riding buddy, Ken, also a strong bent rider

Day 3: Ferry across Lake Micigan on the SS Badger from Ludington-->Manitowoc, WI; ride solo to Appleton, WI

Day 4: Ride solo to Stevens Point and visit friends at the Hostel Shoppe, a premiere Recumbent Bike Shop

Day 5: Ride solo from Stevens Point to Hartford, WI, a suburb of Milwaukee

Day 6: Ride to Milwaukee to meet Kirk for lunch and then ride home to Wilmette

Loaded For Bear (for Ferries)

2010-09-06T19:52:00.000-05:00

My Ferry Tour launches this Friday, September 10th:

I'm packed, routes are both printed and loaded in my Garmin, bike is tuned, new Crank Bros. Acid pedals, new orthotics to support the recalcitrant right foot; just waiting for the start date to arrive on my calendar.

Friday's route is to Milwaukee and then ferrying across Lake Michigan to Muskegon where I'll hook up with bent friends, Denise and Ken. The Lake Express Ferry departs at 12:30. Cars, bikes, and peds must be queued up for boarding by 12:00. Since ferries don't wait for flat tires or head winds I want to arrive at the dock by 11:15 allowing some cush for untowards.

Today's goal was to ride to Kenosha (42 miles) and back to Cafe de Isaac in Highwood (31 miles) for a 4:15 dinner with Kirk, exactly 73 niles, the same distance as home to the Ferry. My bike was loaded with all the gear I'll be carrying on Friday so I would have a true test run of what it will take time-wise to get to the ferry by 11:15.

Outbound I enjoyed a delightful tailwind which, of course came back to bite me on the return. Bumped into John Lake (PAC Tour Hall of Famer) in Highland Park on the outbound; deer were jumping across the path in Lake Bluff; and all was right with the world.

My bike was solid and road worthy. And the answer to the question: "What time do I leave home on Friday to reach the ferry by 11:15?" is: 5:45 a.m. It'll be dark at that time; but hey, my Stella lamp will guide me well.

I off loaded my gear into Kirk's car and rode the last 11 miles home considerably lighter.

I'll post daily on my blog if the hotels have computers.

Tilda Ferries To Dixie

2010-08-26T22:41:00.001-05:00

The day after our nephew, Nate Reed, married Danielle in Leesburg, VA August 21st, and two days after Grandma Mary turned 89, Kirk, Tilda, and I drove to Baltimore for a meeting. Work done, Kirk went to watch the Orioles lose to Texas 4-6. While he kept score in Camden Yard, Tilda and I rode back to Leesburg following the route offered by David Berning from the DC Randonneurs.

After the first 10 miles or so getting out of Baltimore the route was pastoral, roads excellent, and directions perfect. Thank you David! And thank you Bill Beck, RBA for the DC Randonneurs, who put me in touch with David.

Tilda's rider's muscles strained to rise and fall over the 3,700' of climbing in those 63 miles. Bike Friday designed their Tikit to ride "the last mile", you know from home to the bus stop, or the bus stop to the office, or home to the grocery store to get a loaf of bread. The Tikit was not intended to be a land cruiser with only 8 gears, 16" wheels with no accommodation for standing to power up the hills. But together we did it albeit my slowest 63 miles ever recorded, I do believe.Water Stop

The route's crown jewel was crossing not only the Potomac by ferry but also that invisible, but still palpable line the other side of which was Dixie.

A Few Fun Pix

2010-08-10T21:59:00.004-05:00

A hand-carved wooden Gas Pump on Rt 12

One of a kind mail box

Bike on the brain

Now this is just lovely.

Tri-State: New Buffalo, MI

2010-08-09T08:30:00.001-05:00

Living in Chicago the word, Tri-State implies IL, IN, and WI. Today I redifined Tri-State by riding out my alley, down the Chicago Lake Front Path, through East Side (a most uncreative name for a community still in Chicago but whose front yards sit on the IN border), down the Burnham path, finally onto Ave "O" (another uncreative name), through Hammond, East Chicago (that's in IN), Gary, and finally the Indiana Dunes National Park district. On to Michigan City, IN (where my parents had a 24 hour honeymoon back in 1939), and finally New Buffalo, MI.

My several solo treks from home to New York and further east have required passage around the bottom of Lake Michigan, a frightful arm pit of steel mills, abandoned buildings, 18-wheelers, and all things industrial sized that further dwarf my vulnerable 2 wheels. And yet, I've felt called to navigate the bottom of the Lake once again.

Mark and Jeff rode out with me from home to Grand Ave. in Chicago where they headed west for Lou Mitchell's, an iconic restaurant for at least as far back as Route 66, and I headed south and east hoping, hoping for safe passage into Michigan.

Last week when riding through south-central Illinois, Google Mapping for bicycles routed me on crushed limestone paths. I was not up for trusting Google Mapping again, at least not so soon. I opted for US Rt 12 virtually all the way. Route 12 through Chicago is as close to an Interstate as you can get without having the title of I-12. I was not hopeful; concerned to nervous might be better terms.

Turns out 12 is really not that bad; it just sounds bad, but picturesque it was not, no not in any way.

Notice the totally empty Gary-Chicago Airport Parking Lot!

Pleasantly, though the road surface was good, shoulders ample, traffic light, and weather friendly. What more could a rider want?

Company would be a nice addition.

I happened upon a yellow-jerseyed rider 7 miles west of Michigan City, a vacationer from NJ. We swapped stories till our paths diverged and then I cat and moused a 2nd yellow-jerseyed rider.

Later I would re-fuel at Jimmys and who should be there? Yellow jerseyed rider #2.

Refuled and refreshed by Jimmy's fare, a soy tea latte from David's and a few dark chocolate covered almonds from The Chocolate Cafe I waited for Kirk to arrive by car bringing me a fresh set of clothes so I can change out of my towel.

My ride home was equally pleasant and uneventful save the fog that enshrouded the city, this shot as seen from the Lake Front Path about 3100 south.

Thanks, Rob

2010-08-09T08:26:00.007-05:00

Rob Welsh, an accomplished randonneur from the Twin Cities and recent successful Elite PAC Tour rider (crossing the US in 19 days averaging 162 miles per day) kicked open his 2010 training at PAC Tour’s Desert Camp. It was there he met Michelle Williams, a recumbent rider from MS who would be riding PAC’s Northern Transcon from Everett, WA to Williamsburg, VA this July.

Rob and I met at Desert Camp in 2007 and have since cheered each other on toward our respective riding goals and adventures. Rob introduced Michelle and me via email since we were both bent riders and both PAC vets. And so it came to be that Michelle and I emailed regularly sharing our training, our UMCA goals, fears, frustrations, and foibles.

And yet we had never met.

Then it occurred to me I could ride to Pekin, IL and meet her and her fellow PAC Tour riders when they arrived Saturday, July 31 and I could ride with them Sunday, August 1st from Pekin--> Danville. And so, that was the plan.

To Morris

2010-08-09T08:25:00.001-05:00

Chicagolad riders know there are infinite ways to ride north/south But east/west is a whole ‘nother story lessen’ you want to add 30-40% more miles to your route to avoid the plethora of perils rendered by the four-wheelers.

Then it occurred to me: I could cycle to Union Station, take the Metra Commuter rail to Aurora, and cycle to Morris, IL. Yes, that would work.

My biggest challenge stood to be getting my bike loaded with its 25 pounds of gear on and off the train. But, I got the job done, through no help from Charlene, the conductor, who had no intention of lifting a finger of assistance. The trick was unlashing the bundle from the rear rack and lifting the bike into the train on haul #1 and the bundle up on haul #2 and then reversing the process.

Jayesh, the Super 8 desk clerk in Morris, made up for Charlene’s lack of hospitality by rearranging my reservation so I could have a 1st floor accommodation, since, of course, the Super 8 doesn’t have an elevator. Thank you, Jayesh!

While my corner of Morris, IL seemed pretty humble, it did have a quaint local coffee shop and a restaurant with “0” minutes of waiting.

Google Maps

2010-08-09T08:00:00.005-05:00

I typically obsess over my routes when riding solo, but this time I turned loose of my obsession and trusted Google Maps. Not a good idea. Google Maps took me through the Morris Super 8 neighborhood (in the pouring rain) to the I and M Canal Bike Trail. Yes, it was a soggy crushed limestone path, all 13 miles of it. With 120 miles to ride hauling 25 pounds of gear a soggy limestone path was not welcoming. So, at mile 3 I was off-route already. And so it went for the rest of the day. I’d ride 20 miles and ask the locals for the next 20 miles.

The rain stopped by late morning and I arrived in Pekin at the PAC Host Hotel about 45 minutes ahead of Michelle and the balance of the PAC riders.
One of the 9-person PAC vans that pulls the trailer which carries all of the rider’s standard issues duffle bags and bike repair equipment died, not to be resuscitated upon arriving in Pekin. Susan and Lon are totally unflappable; Susan just drove 150 miles one way to Rochelle and drove a new van off the lot. The new van was ready to roll out along with the riders the following morning.

Danville, Peotone, Ravinia

2010-08-06T14:02:00.008-05:00

Riding to Danville was like a family reunion reconnecting with Greg, Greg, Susan, Lon, Rebecca, Christopher, Walt, Veronica, Bob, Jim, Jon, John, Jonathan, Steve, and Cynthia as well as meeting new family "relatives".

Pacelines always make the 136 miles go faster.

Dinner in Danville

Monday PAC would head east to Anderson, IN and I north to Peotone, IL through much corn. Kirk would meet me there and we’d drive the rest of the way home (65 miles) together. Today, August 2nd was our 41st wedding anniversary and we had Ravinia tickets to see Chanticleer. Would never have made it 165 miles in time to make Ravinia.

Rossville honors their servicemen
Bicyle art in Peotone

Sisters (OR), Son, and Grandchildren

2010-07-21T11:05:00.019-05:00

I met Elizabeth Renner "on-line". We shared a coach, Bart Bowen, out of Bend, OR. Elizabeth lives in Sisters, OR, I in Chicago. She off-season trains in Bart's computrainer lab. In 2007-8 I trained in my family room uploading my PowerTap data daily to Bart in Bend. Since Elizabeth rides a Lightning P38, as do I (and they are both green), Bart hoped we could meet someday.

Our son, Bryan, lives in Eugene about 200k from Sisters, perfect for flying out to ride with Elizabeth and her friends, Carol, Sue, and Mae for a few days before my husband would fly to Eugene for a family week together. Never have I felt in the majority, but here we had 3 Lightning P38's and 2 uprights.

Elizabeth, Sue, and me
Loading The Bents

We loaded the bents on the back of Elizabeth's Explorer and headed just east of Prineville to ride the Big Summit Prairie, home to free range cattle, sheep herded by guard dogs assisted by mounted cowboys, and fields of wild flowers that attract aficionados from world-wide. What I noticed equally to the beauty was riding at 3,900-5,400' of altitude the morning after arrival, a big leap up from my steady state 600' called home in tortilla-flat Chicagoland.

After 3 days in Sisters, I set off solo to summit the McKenzie Pass on Rt 242 and then to drop down into Eugene. Packing is always an art of creative fun to anticipate all my rando-style bike needs (both mechanical and personal, including fuel for my idiosyncratic body), AND riding clothes and off-the-bike clothes for 4 days before my husband would arrive by plane with replenishments. I did well getting all of the above in my Rans seat pouch with my 2 folding tires (one for each sized wheel) stuffed in my Crocs which were zip tied under the cinching cord atop the bag.

Two years ago when I made a similar trip to Sisters, the McKenzie Pass was closed for road construction so I took the lesser road, the Santiam Pass. But this year, this year the McKenzie Pass was open and how glorious it was. Other than the 50 motor cycles that passed me on the ascent the only sound was of silence; 48 of the 50 cycles had motors as quiet as mine. One of the two screamers finished his ride as squid along side of a switchback having caught his wheel in displaced gravel. The sound of silence was broken by the sound of sirens.

I wasn't expecting to find black lava fields atop the pass. Other than the difference in the temp and the color of the lava, the view, in places, reminded me of the desolation of Death Valley. Of course, a few peddle strokes further and the snow-covered Sisters would, once again be watching over me.
Dee Wright Observatory at the 5,300' summit of the McKenzie Pass

The descent was glorious, probably a 3-4% slope most of the time, gentle enough that I could wander my eyes to the walls of verdancy all around. Found myself on the wheel of a 6 CFG's (Carbon Fiber Gladiators) and hooked on for the last few miles before I turned west on Route 126 for the final 57 miles into Eugene following the McKenzie River.

I gave Bryan a call when I hit Springfield, OR and we rendezvoused on the Eugene bike path. We rode together to Starbucks at 13th and Alder where we hooked up with his kids (our grandkids), Elijah, age 9, and Ayva, age 7. After a Starbucks refresher we all rode home together, Ayva's longest ride--2 1/2 miles.

Sweet times.

Pommes de Terre

2010-06-01T21:34:00.003-05:00

Lest I forget, there were three other main ingredients to my successful 162 mile ride yesterday.

None other than pre-boiled Dutch Babies which I ate maybe 6 of in the course of miles; Hammer Gel suckled from my Hammer Soft Flask, and 1 scoop of Sustained Energy added to the 2 scoops per bottle of my Clif Shot Electrolyte Replacement Drink.

If anyone else gives any of these a try, hey, let me know how it goes.

HEEDless in Wilmette

2010-06-01T18:32:00.006-05:00

So, for the last few years I've incurred an increasing number of dietary restrictions, food allergies and intolerances. Oh, I came by them honestly--quite a lineage of food afflicted ancestors.

First to go was all dairy regardless of mammalian source including butter, cheese, milks, yogurt, ice cream. Then came gluten from wheat, then all grains except rice. Then came sugars, then color additives. Hmmm not much left that's fast to prepare in our I want it now/need it now, multi-tasking, eat as you go world.

On the bike these dietary restrictions made eating out of Mini-marts nigh impossible: let's see, there's water and potato chips.

Saved by Hammer Nutrition. I became quite a fan of their many supplements, but most importantly I was a devotee of their liquid fuel: Hammer HEED and Hammer Sustained Energy. Their knowledge base is deep, rich, and well scienced, especially when it comes to all things endurance.

I was riding strong and could seemingly go on forever until about two years ago when going the distance day after day after day seemed harder and harder and harder. The fall off was so great it hardly seemed it could all be about age, despite the fact I'm fasting pushing that special birthday after which every vendor agrees, "Yes, you're a senior."

There were other messages from the GI engine that powered my legs to turn the cranks to move the bike that said: "something's not working". But what, oh what?? Who is it?

Riding Calvin's Challenge May 1st, the 12 Hour Challenge Ride out of Springfield, OH was my coup de grace despite setting an age/gender group record for recumbents. It took me three weeks to recoup from the nutritional deficit of riding those 157 miles.

I would not rest would not come till I hunted down the nutritional offender.

Thank you Hammer, thank you Sandy Earl, thank you Michelle Williams, thank you Sharon Stevens, thank you Kirk, LB, Bonnie, Suz, Mark, Jeff, Rob, Valerie, and many more for direct input and/or your patience and support as I quested after knowledge and a product that could fuel me on the bike.

Who woulda thunk that it was the sweetener, Xylitol, derived from corn,present in my beloved Hammer HEED??

Thankfully I found Clif Shot Electrolyte Replacement that fueled me with energy to spare for a 162 mile joy ride to Milwaukee on Memorial Day yesterday.

I feel like I've been given a whole new lease on my cycling life with more and more wanderings to come on my bent.

Woo Hoo.

Best Of Weekends

2010-06-01T17:53:00.003-05:00

Sir George Solti adorned with a ubiquitous gull.

How much better can it get than a century along the Chicago Lake Front, riding to Millennium Park with my husband to see the Matisse exhibit and readying for Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals v the Phillys.

And finally celebrating African Liberation Day and Memorial Day to the sound of African drums and voice and Charles Widor's Toccata From The Fifth Symphony all in the same service!

Calvin's Challenge--2010

2010-05-04T07:20:00.010-05:00

I think I first heard about Calvin's Challenge on Facebook, don't really know for sure. But wherever/however I heard about it, it seemed like a good idea to see what I could do in 12 hours. I've always ridden for the destination, never ridden for time. Guess that's confirmation that in my heart I'm not a racer.

And so it was May 1st, Shawnee HS, Little Possum Road, Springfield, OH came to be. The world is small, we all know that, but my hotel in Springfield for The Calvin was the same hotel I stayed in so many times when consulting for Parkside's addiction treatment program at a local hospital back in the late 80's, more than 20 years ago. YIKES.

161 racers hugged the 7:30 a.m. start line in the pouring rain and 25-30 mph winds. The rain ended after the first 50 mile loop; the winds continued until the race ended at 7:30 p.m. Why could the flag have not hung limp when we were riding instead of starched straight out?

It was fun riding with 16 other recumbents--3 low racers; 3 HPV's, 2 Lightnings, several Bacchettas, a couple of Rans, and a hand crank trike. We had a father/daughter duo on vintage big wheels, and several tandems.

Here's a YouTube link featuring some of the "special" bikes.

Being my first race against the clock I was feeling my way when it came to pacing myself for the 12 hours. Opted to do two 50.5 mile loops and then take a break waiting till the short 7 mile loop opened at 3:30 p.m. Then I'd punch out as many 7 mile loops as I could until the clock struck 7:30 p.m. I'd probably have a different strategy next time, but this one worked well enough to earn me a course/age group (>50 female recumbent) record of 157 miles bettering the 2007 female recumbent record of 128 miles. 2010 results here.

Fueling on long events continues to be my nemesis. If I can ever figure out how to fuel on the bike for events >100 miles or back-2-back-2-back 100's no telling where I can go! It didn't help that we got back to the hotel at 10:00 p.m.; and the restaurant was closed. Dinner was another bowl of rice chex with chocolate almond breeze, the first solid food since my first bowl of rice chex at 4:30 a.m. Anybody got any ideas?

Austin--2010

2010-04-18T20:14:00.008-05:00

Austin would be my last “get out of Dodge” trip of the 2009-2010 to evade winter in Chicago; Austin would be the opportunity to reconnect with my Aunt and two sets of friends whom I had not seen since the early 70’s; Austin would be the closest I’ll ever come to walking on Lance soil.

Austin would, of course, give me 4-500 miles of outdoor glorious rides in short pants, short sleeve jerseys, and short fingered gloves. Austin would give me several more notches in my UMCA Year-Rounder challenge goal.

Austin would be perfect.

Well, Austin earned a perfect 10 on the reconnect with friends and family score; it earned, at best, a 0.5 on riding. WUWT??

Easy Street Recumbents, Austin’s only recumbent dealer, is a short ride from my Aunt’s.; “kicked tires” with the good folks at the shop and scored an Austin Bicycle Map, then settled in for what would be the first of a gazillion hours of futile route planning.

Austin helped me appreciate the beauty of cities laid out on a grid pattern; Austin helped me fall in love again with all the other cities I’ve ridden in with great joy, especially Chicago, Tucson, and Eugene.

Austin is characterized by an endless configuration of bird’s nests bound by killer roads, as in take-your-life-in-your-hands roads. The Bike Route Map has green, blue, red, and grey roads. Green and blue roads are bike friendly; red is a warning to cyclists to ride with extreme caution due to high, fast traffic and poor shoulders; grey is the designation for “don’t ride here”, for I-35 and its act alikes.

What I quickly learned was that all green and blue roads dead end into red or grey roads and that the detail of the bike map is insufficient to guide an Austin newbie to an alternant. My Day 1 ride intended to carve out a route from my Aunt’s to Bee Caves where I wanted to start a 200k Permanent route later in the week. I never made it to Bee Caves; but I did find a plethora of 15% “bumps”, as they’re called in the South East; some take-your-breath away red roads; a leash-free zone for a whole community of happy dogs on Lake Austin; and Mellow Johnny’s, Lance’s bike shop, my favorite destination experience of my week. I would never ride the 200k Permanent.

Tuesday I explored the NW side of Austin, an Easter egg hunt to find a few green and blue ones. Getting from here to there, wherever there might be, seemed to be labor intensive.

Wednesday I discovered a route on line to the quaint, little, historic town of Bastrop about 45 miles from my Aunt’s. The first 15 miles were hair-raising getting through road construction and across a “red” bridge. Finally out in the open; finally able to stretch my legs; finally able to smile on my bike once again; finally hopeful I might get in one ride long enough (90 miles or more) to qualify as a ride for my UMCA Year-Rounder Challenge.

Thursday was Bikram Yoga and big rain so hovered over my computer route planning for my September Circle Tour of Lake Michigan.

Friday I would carve out a path to the Veloway, not sure exactly what it is, but the 5k route, maybe even track, would be where a Recumbent Rally would begin Saturday morning at 10:00. Given the snarl of bird’s nests and ride-stopping reds and greys, it seemed wise to carve the route on Friday before a “be there at 10” on Saturday.

Friday seemed to be the perfect opportunity to check out Shoal Creek Trail I’d heard so much about, a trail that parallels Shoal Creek Blvd, what might be the longest uninterrupted N-S green road in Austin. Besides, I was ready to find an alternative to Neuces and 29th to get to Lake Austin. Shoal Creek Trail was wonderful if you were a walker, runner, or riding a cross bike. I was not one of those. It was rugged sporting rushing streams, boulders, portages, and mud. None of these are friendly for a skinny-tired recumbent. Back to the streets. A high-maintenance Earl Gray + a generous steamed soy topper from Juan Pelota, the Cafe inside Mellow Johnny’s would comfort my route frustrations. Then onward to the Veloway.

YAY for the pedestrian/bike protected bridge across Lake Austin paralleling the grey colored 1st Street bridge. Once across I found myself, again, in birds’s nest soup dead-ending into reds and greys. Periodically I’d be delighted by colorful bike route signs that were even numbered and corresponded to numbered routes on my Bike Map. But they seemed only to be a tease as the signs would precipitously end and the Bike Map was insufficient in detail to guide the lost to be found. I gave up maybe 5 miles short of the Veloway returning via the sidewalk on grey South 1st Street passing a ghost bike monument for Krishna who lost her life on killer South 1st.

The effort it took to not even get to the Veloway discouraged any interest I had in joining fellow bent riders on Saturday.

Saturday I rode back to Greg’s house (all of 2 miles) to pick up my camera I’d left there the night before when we were reminiscing about a shared Christmas 45 years earlier when we were college students once and young. Greg, “What route do you use to go to Mellow Johnny’s from here?” And he told me how to take the alleys, deviations around construction fences, hidden foot bridges, and voila! Maybe another 2 miles, but oh the thrill of feeling like it might be possible to navigate this town by bike.

Take aways from Austin? There were many:
--Reconnecting with family and friends was priceless
--You need a car (or load your bike on the front of a bus) to get to the outskirts of town if you really want a training ride
--You need the attitude of an urban explorer to enjoy riding in Austin proper.
--Mellow Johnny’s is a really cool destination
--Austin gave me 180 miles, not 4-500.
--Hope the weather has improved in Chicago so I can amass the miles lost in Austin.

Link to Austin pictures is here.

Death Valley Take-Aways

2010-03-11T15:58:00.001-06:00

I rode in the middle of the pack, my usual and expected spot when riding with accomplished riders.

I’m not washed up, chronologically.

Vision Quest off-season training paid off handsomely.

I climb easily, not fast, but easily on long, 10-15 mile climbs of 4-11% grades.

The one night I was unable to fuel properly I had no fuel in the tank to ride more than 10 miles the next day confirming, again, nutrition is my biggest performance issue.

I gotta find a way to come back to Death Valley; it’s calling me.

Death Valley Itself

2010-03-11T14:59:00.004-06:00

Death Valley (DV) is like a place no other; Mars might be the closest appearing relative. Indeed, DV has been used to portray Mars-scapes.

Some WOW! facts:
humans roamed DV 10,000 years ago
Borax mining with famed 20-mule-teams was big in DV in the late 1880’s
Summer temps are often 120+ F
DV is about the size of Connecticut, 3.3 million acres
Ground temperature can be 80 degrees higher than air temperature. Ground temp was once measured to be 201 degrees F
2001 saw 154 days in a row of temps 100 degrees F or above
Yearly rain fall is about 2 inches with February being the rainiest month with .38 of an inch.
A rogue 2’ rain fall several years ago washed cars into a gully from the parking lot of the Furnace Creek Inn

Adventure Corps has been hosting endurance events in DV for the last 20 years, their signature events being the famed Spring and Fall running of the Furnace Creek 508, a 508 mile bicycle race which begins in Santa Clarita, CA, travels through DV (mid point) in the middle of the night, and ends in Twenty-nine Palms, CA .

Adventure Corps also hosts the 135 mile Badwater ultramarathon running race in mid July which runs from Badwater (-282’ elevation) to the summit of Mt. Whitney (+8,300’ elevation).

Riders numbered about 50, a more balanced gender mix than I’ve ever ridden with, as well as a number of spousal couples.

Riding narrative would detract from the ride-stopping beauty. Just enjoy the pictures. Click here to go to pictures.

PHX Didn't Treat Me Well

2010-03-11T14:57:00.001-06:00

February 26th I would fly from Phoenix to Las Vegas where I would meet Mark and Jeff, riding buddies from home, who would be riding Adventure Corps Death Valley Camp with me.

Why don’t airports have scales near the check-in counters so you can weigh your bags before it’s your turn to check in your luggage? At least then you can redistribute your poundage from one bag to another to meet the 50# weight restriction.

I typically LUV Southwest ‘cause 2 bags fly free, if they’re under 50#. My bike fits in an airline compatible suitcase, meaning it’s under 62” in combined length, width, and depth. This day I had the un-privilege of an authority-seeking SWA check-in agent. “Is that a bike in this case?” How can I say “no” when I’m holding a wheel in a wheel-bag and a helmet is dangling from my carry-on day pack. “That will be $50.” But, I fly SWA regularly, fly with this bike multiple times a year and I’ve never been charged for it just because of what’s inside the box. “Well, you were just lucky, and besides it weighs 54 pounds.” By this time I’m not about to repack the bike box and the duffle to equalize the weight between the two pieces of checked luggage. Besides, I was going to be charged $50 regardless of weight since he was in a power-happy mood.

I got to know the PHX TSA guys and gals way better than I ever wanted to. I had a 4# bag of Hammer HEED (powder to mix with water for my cycling water bottles) in my carry on Day Pack. Apparently there’s something in HEED that warrants it being considered contraband and its carrier (me) being raised to the profile of highly suspicious. After a 20 minute TSA-style wanding of everything in me/on me/with me, TSA said I could fly, but my HEED could not. My choice was to surrender it or take in on the pre-screening side and ship it.

And to add insult to insult, Starbucks, near the gate, wanted to charge me $4.21 for a cup of Early Gray tea with steamed soy, plus the flight attendant was not in the mood to help find a place to stow my wheel on the plane.

What a welcome sight to see that Mark and Jeff had arrived 45 minutes early, the beginning of up, more ups, and upper ups.

Readying For Death Valley

2010-03-11T14:47:00.003-06:00

October 12, 2009, my trigger finger hovered over the “register” button on the Adventure Corps Death Valley Cycling Camp web site. The next four and 1/2 months till Camp would begin in late February would seem like an eternity given yet another Chicago winter before being able to feel the wind through my helmet once again.

There was, however, recovery work to be done from the rigors of my 3,500 mile PAC Tour Transcontinental from Portland, OR to Tybee Island, GA completed August 3, 2009.

First would be recovery for my body which would take about a month--regaining the 12% loss of body weight due to food allergies, muscle fatigue, and sleep catch up. Oh what a glorious feeling to go to sleep in my own bed and know that tomorrow I didn’t have to face another 120-150 mile day of riding.

Soul recovery would take longer, maybe two months.

Having fallen short of my personal expectations of riding in the middle of the pack; having lost the joy of riding on about Day 8 (with 22 more riding days ahead); having my mood tank abysmally on a regular basis (due to inadequate fueling) found my head believing that I was totally washed up, that I was indeed old and could only look forward to a steady decline in cycling performance.

In my head I knew my performance struggles were the result of my huge nutritional deficit. But head knowledge gave little comfort when my mood regularly descended to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

Soul recovery goal #1 would be to find a Spring Cycling Camp where I could be challenged and that would hub someplace, rather than being a point-to-point tour. I needed to be somewhere where I knew I could refuel at the end of the day; Adventure Corps Death Valley Camp met those criteria.

Soul recovery goal #2 would be to seek a performance evaluation at Vision Quest Coaching with Robbie Ventura. I needed to know how far my performance numbers had fallen in the 3 intervening years from completion of my 2006 transcontinental ride and performance evaluation with Robbie. To my surprise my numbers hadn’t changed at all, AND I was at the 75th percentile of all the women, regardless of age, who worked out at Vision Quest.

That piece (or peace) of knowledge was HUGE validating with hard data that my struggles were nutritionally grounded, not age related.

Computrainer workouts at Vision Quest during the off-season was goal #3. Beginning in November I would work side-by-side with amazing cycling athletes building strength, endurance, and raising my V02 and lactate threshold, those personal numbers as valuable as weight and cholesterol, numbers that determine your ability to go harder and longer before grinding to a a halt.

Accepting two Ultra Marathon Cycling Association Year-Rounder Challenges was goal #4. The first of those challenges is riding a century each month in 2010, not hard to do except that I live in Chicago, don’t ride a mountain bike, and get cold very easily. So, getting a January, February, and December century in would take a little creativity. The second challenge is riding 3,000 miles in 2010 where each ride would be 90+ miles in length. Again, not hard to do except that there are several months in the year where getting those miles in will require creativity.

Our trip to Hawaii in January enabled me to get my January century in on my Bike Friday Tikit; I found two centuries in Arizona in February while visiting our son, Daniel; and I scored two centuries in March at Adventure Corps’s Death Valley Camp.

January 2010 Century

2010-01-27T13:47:00.003-06:00

Having signed on for two UMCA challenges in 2010, my first challenge was to figure out how to get in a century in January when the temps are in the teens and snow is on the ground in Chicago.

Our 12 January days in Hawaii held promise for "getting it done" but it was not a "slam dunk, January's in the books" given.

The bike I brought to HI was my Bike Friday Tikit, named Tilda, a folder with 16 x 38 wheels, 8 gears and no front derailleur; I was one month post-op for repair of a torn rotator cuff; and Kauai had only one road with virtually no shoulder. Maui's roads were much more bike friendly, we'd be there our second week, so my shoulder would then be 5 weeks post-op.

Can't even count how many times I've ridden 100+ miles, but sleep was not to come the night before my Maui January UMCA qualifying century (90 miles or greater). Sun rose at 7:15; the Door Man at the Westin Kaanapali Resort Villas signed my Year Rounder Personal Ride Verification form--Miles ridden "0", time of departure 7:42 a.m. January 26th, address: 6 Kai Ala Dr.

A great tail wind carried me over the rollers on Honoapiilani Drive up to the steep climbs in Napili and Kapalua with take-your-breath-away vistas of the Pacific along the western edge of West Maui. Then came the rain that bathes these Maui cliffs with 200+ inches of rain a year, the fast descents that even Tilda took at 30 mph followed by mile-long climbs that Tilda took at 5 and 6 mph. To get my needed mileage I needed two of these Honoapiilani loops.

I practiced Hammer's 3 hour rule of no fueling 3 hours before a hard or long workout or race, so celebrated the completion of my first loop with a bar and a bottle of Hammer Heed and Sustained Energy. A stop back at the Resort for the Door Man to sign my Ride Verification Form at mile 27.5 and I'm off for the next 60+ miles.

Out of the rain forest now and into an arid coastal region protected from the fierce trade winds by the Arizona-esque mountains. I found the trade winds for real when I headed northeast from Ma'alae toward Kahului. They favored me with a 20 mph coast into Starbucks at Kahului which, upon the return, would be a 5 mph crawl. Fun to see a large cruise ship in the Kahului harbor and be free to cruise the island with my Tikit, Tilda.

The trade winds were now more cross winds than head or tail upon the return--I'm lovin that. My plan was to stop in Lahaina under the 130+ year old Banyan Tree, 6 miles from my finish, and find someone to take my picture since 27 years ago I finished the Maui Marathon, 3rd place in my age division, under that same Banyan Tree.

Two amazing, unexpected gifts awaited me in Lahaina. My bike computer registered 79 miles at the Banyan Tree which meant I'd need to ride back north on Honoapiilani Drive to get the balance of my miles. I had not looked at my Garmin since turning it on at the time of my departure but in Lahaina my Garmin registered 89 miles! No more Honoapiilani Drive would be needed! At that very moment my phone rang; it was Kirk wondering how I was progressing. I said, "I'm under the Banyan Tree in Lahaina looking for someone to take my picture." He said, "I'm under the Banyan Tree, too. I'll take your picture." Can't get any better than that. We recruited a willing volunteer to take our picture.

Rolled into the parking lot; the Door Man signed my form: Time--3:42, miles so far 95.5. I washed the rain, road crud, and salty air residue from Tilda out of a wastebasket filled with warm water and shampoo from my room; soaked my tired body in our in-room Jacuzzi; and enjoyed carry-in Thai on our balcony with Kirk.

Tilda was up for the task; my bod held up on the upright, although I'm not planning on any more long rides on Tilda or any other upright for that matter. But good to know I can do it, and for that I'm deeply grateful to all those both past and present who have contributed to my long-road healing process, the most recent piece being my shoulder repair.

2009--Year End

2010-01-20T19:54:00.007-06:00

Hmmm. It's a no-brainer--snowy Chicago or sunny Kauai?

Having just re-read my last post of my 2009 Transcon, six months later the musing and wisdom of that post stand solid. The warmth of Kauai mid January, 2010 seems a very good time to wrap up reflections on 2009 and lay bent goals for 2010.

It took a solid month, maybe even a little more, to physically recover from the nutritional hole I'd sunk into across the miles. It took even longer to make friends with the self-doubts that rumbled and tumbled inside.

Re-engaging in daily, normal routines, riding age-old familiar routes, and spending time with family and good friends was a balm as healing as that in Gilead.

One of the better fitness-related decisions I made was to be performance tested in October at Vision Quest Coaching with Robbie Ventura. The upshot of that was that my performance numbers were unchanged since he tested me exactly 3 years before. That was good news at age 64. Given my struggles on the transcon I figured I was in for a performance free fall. Then I signed up to work out at Vision Quest (VQ) 5-7 days a week through the Chicago winter months building V02 max, strength-endurance, and core conditioning. After hours in the trainers next to other VQ athletes I finally have been able to trust that my transcon struggles were nutritional, not age-fatale.

Hanging out with the athletes of VQ drilled my lack of core conditioning straight to my core, double entendre intended, a function of multiple back surgeries, long recoveries, and riding a recumbent which doesn't demand core strength like an upright does. I couldn't expect to move forward with developing core strength till I had my 20-yr old torn rotator cuff repaired, my Christmas present to myself on December 23rd.

Being on the bent made it possible for me to be back on the bike in the computrainer at VQ 3 days post-op. Shoulder surgery was another really good fitness decision.

I ended 2009 with another year of >12,000 miles, probably 35% of which were commuting miles.

Where to go in 2010? Well, I've signed up for two of UMCA's (Ultra Marathon Cycling Association) Year-Rounder goals--a century every month and 3,000 miles of rides 90 miles or greater in length. I'm laying plans for a self-designed Circle Tour of Lake Michigan, Calvin's Challenge in OH, lots of hilly rides in WI, and hopefully another year of 12,000+ miles.

Sounds like fun.

Eugene--Sept 2009

2009-09-16T15:28:00.002-05:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

Labor Day Weekend 2009 Muskegon, MI

2009-09-08T18:17:00.001-05:00

Fun weekend in Muskegon riding with Ken and Denise. There is truth in advertising. Michigan does, indeed, have great riding. We got in 192 miles in a day and a half.

This is Denise and me at lunch in Walkerville--population 300.

Denise

Ken

Transcon Pix

2009-08-16T20:58:00.005-05:00

I've organized my pix from the transcon by state plus a set of individual pix of the riders and some memorable signs seen along the way.

Here's the link to flickr

Or, you can click on the mosaic.

Re-entry

2009-08-08T22:05:00.003-05:00

How does my body, how does my spirit , how does my mind stop something as big as a 3,500 mile, 30 day transcontinental bike ride just because I dipped my wheel in the Atlantic? How do I walk away and re-enter my real world?

For 30 days I lived a very simple, structured life. I had two sets of riding clothes, two sets of after-ride clothes, a camera, smartphone, and laptop, Hammer nutritional supplements, a clothesline string and clothes pins. Less than 25 pounds for 30 days. Didn't want for more. My only credit card charges for over a month were for dinner. Twenty-seven of those dinners were at the level of Waffle House or below. Three of them were really high class, like Ruby Tuesdays or Cracker Barrel.

I was never more alive than I was these last 30 days--totally focused on the physical road ahead, but not the journey ahead. To focus beyond the next rest stop 30 miles out detracted from the present. Other times the focus was reduced to the radio tower on the left at mile 68.6 or the relay station on the right at mile 72.4.

People ask what in the world do you think about for all those hours, all those miles? It's a difficult question to answer because I don't think I think about much, but I feel a lot, a real lot.

I felt humbled and oh, so grateful to have the privilege to ride my bike across America. I would direct my gratitude specifically to the individuals who have given so much to make it possible for me to be able to ride today, praying specifically for their presence in my life and courage to live their lives with integrity and passion.

I felt wonder and awe as I glided across this magnificent country of ours--the great mountains some green, some barren, some white that have been there for millions of years and will be there for millions more just looking at us; rushing mountain streams, roaring washes, desiccated river beds; dust, tumbleweed, great rolling plains whose expansiveness defies measurement in units I can even comprehend; towns, like Groom and Conway that have been ghosted by "civil progress", kept alive only my those who nurture the Mother Road; all God's creatures only some of which I saw as road-kill along the way, but they were plentiful enough to remind me of the great diversity of nature and how arrogant we often become when we begin to think that we as a species, race, nationality, or gender are somehow more worthy than others.

I felt a daily anxiety ball in the pit of my being that I would not have the resources to climb or descend the next mountain, or go the full day's distance.

I felt inadequate as the fast group would over take me never to be seen again till dinner. That some of these riders were ranked by the US Cycling Organization, that all the women riders were 12-30 years younger than I didn't change things for me.

Sometimes I wore my old demons as a collar that squeezed out tears making it difficult to see and even harder to experience, the beauty and joy all around.

I felt the age of all my years, really for the first time. I actually believe my hair grayed by 10% on this trip.

It took me till about Day 20 to catch on to something really big. Yes, I was 3rd oldest person on the Tour and the oldest female. BUT, and here's the HUGE but, my bike weighed 15-20 pounds more than everyone else's bike--a blunt reality of a steel recumbent vs a carbon fiber or Titanium upright. I had HUGE nutritional restrictions that resulted in my being able to consume maybe 3,000 calories a day while others were easily consuming 6-9,000 per day. Those are pretty steep odds to overcome.

Wrestling with the demons was useless as they are ageless and rich with tenacity. It's counter-intuitive, but the only way to deal with demons is to accept them, call them by name, and keep pedaling, keep pedaling, keep pedaling, follow the white line, follow the white line, follow the white line. And at the end of the day, say thank you for a safe day doing what I dearly love, shower, share the joys, beauties, and challenges of the day with the others, try to eat something, and get some sleep.

A few things I know are true:

In a few days, few weeks, my physical body will be healed by the tincture of time and rest along with returning to foods that can nurture and an activity level that can be supported by those foods.
Sharing the journey with those who truly love me, those who truly were supporting me in their own unique ways, and those who are hearing about the journey for the very first time will help me integrate known gifts and discover others still packed in a zip locked bag in the bottom of my duffel bag.
I will never be the same person I was when I left home on July 3rd, 2009. My hope is that others will be able to experience my growth and gratitude.

How long will it take to re-enter? Not sure. Maybe check the blog from time to time to see what else I've learned from this PAC Tour from Portland, OR-->Tybee Island, GA in 3,484 miles and 30 days, and 124,000' of up, ups, and upper ups.

Tybee Island Doings

2009-08-08T06:58:00.003-05:00

That's the PAC motel truck bottom left corner

First order of business after the beach was to pack the bikes. We'll all need to do a very thorough bike cleaning once we get home followed by an equally thorough tune up given, not so much the wear of the miles, but the abuse of the rain. Then there was settling of our PAC accounts--tubes, tires, patch kits, wheels, bike box shipping, massages--showers for us, and finally time to visit with friends and family who had come to join us.

LB and Suzanne made a HUGE effort to be there for me. LB's flight was canceled, the rental car place was shut down by the time she arrived at the Savannah airport, and the first two cab companies weren't awake either. She got to Tybee about midnight. Suzanne began the 7.5 hour trip from Tampa to Tybee after she got off work; she arrived about 5:00 a.m. after a 3 hour sleep break at a truck stop. They had been at the Tybee sign only two minutes when I rolled up.

The last 10 miles from lunch to the Tybee sign were teary ones for me as I flashed through memories of the beauty and the challenges of this ride; my awareness that the probability of my doing another transcon is very slim indeed; my awareness of the huge surround of support I had with me along the journey: Kirk, Bryan, Katie, Daniel, Mark, Jeff, LB, Suzanne, church friends, riding friends, non-riding friends, bike mechanics, Rebekah's House, colleagues, people I knew and people I didn't know who cared enough to comment on the blog, and people I still don't know but who were out there supporting me in prayer and spirit, and not to forget the PAC crew and riders.

Susan Notorangelo's 45 minute slide show of daily pix from Portland to Tybee brought it all back, all of it. Wow! Hope I can get a disk. We each received a framed picture of us along the route, each had the opportunity to say a few words, and the map was auctioned off, Jonathan being the winner, to support Lon's and Susan's philanthropic projects in Peru.

Farewell hugs all around and then we dispersed to re-enter our former lives, but never to be the same person we were 30 days ago.

Crew: Beginning back, left: Alan Stokes, Rebecca Haldeman, Christopher Stegeman, Steve Shearin, Karl Stock,Franz Neuert, Susan Notorangelo, Lon Haldeman, Jon Jahant, and John Lake. Not pictured are Barb and Phil Bohaty who left us in Amarillo. Jon and John filled their shoes.

Day 30_August 3rd-->Tybee Island, GA

2009-08-08T06:54:00.002-05:00

The day awoke with a mix of heavy heart and "let's get on with it". The heavy heart was no longer about the end-of-the-ride being near, but that one our riders had fallen hard 11 miles out from the hotel in Metter, GA on Day 29 on the wet road. He would we having surgery to repair the break in the neck of his femur about the time we would be arriving on the beach at Tybee Island.

Four trips to the hospital, three riders not returning, but having to go home, and one of them needing to have surgery seems like a high percentage of accidents among 17 riders--nearly 25%, and they were all very experienced riders!

It looked like the rain would hold off till we got safely in which was more than welcome given how very wet we had been for each of the last 7 days. There was not a "catch me if you can" sprint mentality today, just a focused, let's finish this job, and finish it well. Lunch came at mile 48 today, instead of mile 75-80. Funny to be eating lunch at 10:30 a.m. But, we needed to all be at the Welcome To Tybee Island sign by 1:00 so we could parade lap the last 4 miles into the hotel.

Through the parking lot, over the board walk, onto the beach, drop the bikes and jump into the ocean.

Then lots of pix of friends, the group, and lots of hugs from friends and families who had come to celebrate this incredible journey.

Bob

Dan and Brian Hofstra

Me

Jonathan, Melissa, and me

Says it all :)

Day 29_August 2--> Metter, GA

2009-08-02T21:01:00.003-05:00

117 miles and a relatively flat 2,000' of climbing today. The whole crowd was relaxed today, more relaxed than I've experienced us since Day 10 riding from Vernal, UT-->Rangely, CO. Rangely was the day we had but 53 miles. Since we'd arrived so early, the whole group lunched in the grass at the city park waiting for our rooms to be readied. That turned out to be a significant day for bonding. It was still early enough in the ride that whole-group bonding could still occur. The gap between the fast group and the slow group is great enough that after ride socializing tends to happen among members of the fast and slow group. But having had the Rangely day, with an added visit to the local Espresso bar (the last time we've seen the likes of such on the whole tour), pleasantly narrowed the social gap. Wouldn't it have been nice if it could have narrowed the riding gap as well?

That the route was relatively flat today also kept the group physically closer together. The day called for RAIN and that it did. Lost count of how many days, now, we've contended with the evil wet stuff. We all smell like mildew and our duffle bags smell even worse.

We're all definitely into the bittersweet place of being quite ready for this to be over, and yet the simplicity of our lives (no responsibility but to ride, wearing the same one outfit day after day), and the friendships made are sad to see come to an end tomorrow.

I can tell you one thing for sure: I will be quite pleased to experience restaurants other than fast foods found on Interstate exchanges.

Tomorrow will be sort of like the Parade Lap. An easy 58 miles to lunch and then another 25 or so to a rendezvous spot where we will wait till all the riders arrive. Then, the whole group will ride in together through Tybee Island; we'll ride through the hotel parking lot, over the boardwalk and out onto the beach of the Atlantic Ocean. Woo Hoo: 3,484 miles, 30 days, and 124,100' of climbing.

We all knew we would make it, but what it would take to make it remained an unanswered question until tonight. Yet, accidents can happen so fast, we are all committed to being hypervigilant tomorrow, taking nothing for granted.

Oh, the good news is that Melissa, who fell so hard on her hip about a week ago, has ridden the last two days. Woo Hoo for her. She is one tough rider.

Melissa (from AU) and me at the first rest stop on our way to Rangely, CO on Day 10.

Holiday or Quest?

2009-08-01T20:56:00.002-05:00

It's always been interesting to me to hear people talk about participating in PAC Tour as a Holiday (if you have English roots) or a vacation (if you're American). For me any of my cycling endeavors and adventures have all been very focused actions toward a quest in my spiritual development. The bike is simply the vehicle that carries me on the journey, a vehicle that I truly enjoy, I might add.

My first Transcon was in 2006 the summer I was still 60. That journey was a consummate celebration of healing from 11 years of functional disability from back disease and injury. Was crossing the country even possible for the likes of me? Every night on that Tour I went to sleep with an anxiety ball in the pit of my stomach wondering if I had what it took to be able to ride whatever was before me the next day. And I did, every mile, save for about 25 one day in the first week when I was fighting a cold.

Three years later, 2009, finds me closer to 64 than 63. It also finds me having ridden about 30,000 more miles and having completed four solo tours from between 500 and 1000 miles each. And, it finds me having added several significant food intolerances that have made fueling my body for 30 back-to-back 100+ mile rides a serious challenge.

The result: I have seen way more of the inside of the SAG vehicles than I ever imagined possible. It's sobering to confront the diminishment of my physical abilities, and yet I guess that is an age-appropriate thing. I truly believe that 50% of my diminished performance is a function of my age. The other 50% I truly believe is that I simply have not been able to fuel my self adequately given that all dairy, all grains but rice, and refined sugar of any kind are off the list. HAMMER nutrition products have been great, but not enough to fuel in the neighborhood of 6,000 calories per day.

There are two days left on this Tour. I will be interested to see how I integrate the spiritual yearnings and learnings over the next weeks and months. But for now what I'm gleaning is that, as I move into this next season of my life, the opportunities will increase for me to be humbled by my inabilities that were once strengths; I will need to ask for help more often; and I will want to say "thank you" for both the opportunity to participate in life and to whomever it was that reached out a hand when it was needed.

I pray that I will be able to live this next life-season with robust gladness and graciousness.

Day 28_August 1-->Perry GA

2009-08-01T20:21:00.002-05:00

Today was memorable on many accounts.

Kirk grew up in GA so we were but 45 miles from his home when we were in Eufaula, AL yesterday and about 85 miles from his home when we arrived in Perry, GA today.
3 years ago on my first Transcon I flew up and over the steep rollers from Eufaula-->Perry because Kirk would be meeting me in Perry to ride the last 2 days in the SAG vehicle.
This year from Eufaula-->Perry I rode in the SAG vehicle. I had absolutely no "go juice" in my legs. None. More on that later.
40 years ago today was our wedding rehearsal, which, of course, means tomorrow is our 40th wedding anniversary.

(A side note: when we were planning our wedding we considered Saturday, July 19th, 1969, but decided that date sounded loo much like a day you might go to the dentist. So, we chose August 2nd. Turned out July 19th, 1969 was the day all of America and much of the world was glued to the TV watching Neil Armstrong take the first human step on the moon. What a distraction that would have been for our wedding!)

Today our route took us to Andersonville, GA for our lunch stop, home of the Confederate Civil War Prison Camp officially known as Camp Sumter. Since I was not riding I had a few minutes to visit the Museum, which is powerfully done, as moving as the newly opened Holocaust Museum in Skokie, IL. I would like to return sometime and spend several quiet hours in humility, horror, and with hope that indeed we have made a little progress in justice and respect for all.

The quote on the picture reads: "Then came the captives, weary, worn, and hungry from prolonged travel cooped up like beasts in freight cars. Down from the depot they marched among the jeers and jaunts of a gaping crowd. The gate opened. The stockade swallowed them."

12,913 of the 45,000 Union soldiers imprisoned at the Camp died of starvation and disease.

Day 26 & 27_July 30 & 31-->Greenville and Eufaula, AL

2009-08-01T19:00:00.005-05:00

Playing a little catch-up here as it got too late last night to blog.

These last several days have been characterized by rain, lots of rain, but not scary rain, at least not the hours when we were out in it. Actually I have welcomed it because it would cool us off, at least for a little while.

We're definitely now in the land of kudzu, that overpowering vine from Asia. Here's what the Internet has to say about it:

Kudzu vines can make walking across the land nearly impossible, as it takes over all horizontal and vertical surfaces, both natural and manmade. Its dense vegetation obstructs all views and movement into the area. It kills or degrades other plants by smothering them under a solid blanket of leaves, by girdling woody stems and tree trunks, and by breaking branches or uprooting entire trees and shrubs through the sheer force of its weight.
I have discovered the sheer joy of pouring ice cold water into my riding shoes when my the balls of my feet are burning like searing anvils. Learned that trick from Karl. Yesterday I stopped at a "grocery" store in Oak Hill (reminded me of the Big Fork Mall) to buy a bottle of water. Poured half of it in me and the balance in my shoes. Started climbing going about 6 mph when this unbelievable wind came up that nearly laid the trees horizontal. With that my speed went instantly up to 27 mph through no effort of my own. Of course the rain followed the wind and my shoes were permanently soaked. Had I known, I wouldn't have had to buy a bottle of water. :)
We all got settled into Greenville before the sheets of nearly horizontal rain came. No problem. Gave us plenty of time to enjoy a real meal at Ruby Tuesdays. The haute cuisine of Ruby Tuesdays is measured against the bas cuisine of Eufaula tonight. Waffle House! That's my rotisserie chicken from Piggly Wiggly. Definitely not haute, definitely bas.
Today was not only characterized by rain, but some steep rollers the likes of which we'll see more of in the next couple of days.

If you're in kudzu country, you're also in church sign country. A couple notables of the last couple of days.

Day 26_July 30-->Greenville, AL

2009-07-30T22:28:00.002-05:00

It's late. I'll post tomorrow for both today and tomorrow.

Tomorrow will mark new territory for me. My 2006 Transcon was 26 days, 2,984 miles. Tomorrow will be Day 27. I do know we are all very tired, and our skin is taking a beating in places not exposed to the sun. At the same time, though, we don't want this magical thing we're all doing together to end: breakfasts in the parking lot, lunches along some road between Faith, Hope, Friendship, and Money (actual towns we've ridden through), bike cleaning and repair in the parking lot, followed by dinner at some off-beat Family Restaurant and story swapping of the day's beauty and challenges with dogs and weather. Soon we will scatter to all corners of this country, Canada, Australia, and the UK. But one thing I know is true is that many of us will see each other again on the road with PAC or on our own made-up adventure.

Day 25_July 29-->Livingston, AL

2009-07-29T20:27:00.003-05:00

The weather report forecasted yet another day of storms and rain. It did, indeed, start out that way, but by late morning the rain had stopped and the mug of muggy Mississippi prevailed. My camera was double bagged in zip lock baggies so inaccessible for pix. I did snag some pix from Melissa's FaceBook that capture the sog of the day quite well.

Cycling in the elements is about managing fluids, electrolytes, sufficient fuel, (and the right kind of fuel), and heat and cold. Just two days ago I was wearing and ice sock trying to stay cool in the 105 degree heat with the humidity about the same. Yesterday and today it's been about trying to stay warm enough in the rain. Staying dry is out of the question. But rain jackets can help deflect painful rain drops or hail and help keep some heat in if the temperature drops.

On my recumbent I'm much closer to the ground than the uprights

so am much more likely to get a direct hit from the spray of the 18 wheelers. That was certainly the case today from the logging trucks and those carrying chickens to slaughter. I was poignantly reminded of the illustration in Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar In The World: A Geography of Faith in which she found herself following a chicken truck in North Georgia; the chickens packed in crates with a total absence of compassion for their lives or their exposure to the elements, be it wind, rain, heat, or freezing cold. Their feathers flew through the open wires in their crates and stuck to her windshield. And from all of that she was humbled at the sacrifice that the chickens were making that she might live. She didn't stop eating chicken, but her grace of thanks before eating took on a deeper meaning. Having no windshield on my bike, my body absorbed their feathers along with the spray of many 18 wheels.

Dinner tonight was a Chicken Salad from Subway from the Chevron Station feet from the motel. I gave thanks to the chickens who sacrificed much.

(As I write at 8:00 p.m., there is a raging lightning/thunderstorm dropping enough rain to amount to 2" in an hour if it continues to rain that long. Am thankful I'm inside.)

Day 24_July 28-->Kosciusko, MS

2009-07-28T21:51:00.002-05:00

Today will be remembered as a rainy day.

Yesterday's heat and humidity totally depleted me of energy and nutrition. Maybe it's the getting old thing, but I knew last night it would be hard for me to replenish/recover in time to ride 134 miles again today. When I awoke I knew for sure it would be wise for me to SAG to lunch, mile 71. What I didn't know when I awoke was that it had rained most of the night and that it was raining at the "get the bikes ready and eat breakfast in the parking lot" time. Sure sealed my decision to SAG till lunch. Good decision, too, as the rain rolled through in storm after storm all day.

I decided to ride from lunch in to Kosciusko, 65 odd miles; Melissa and I would mange the raindrops together. No more than 3 miles from lunch both of us went down independent of one another but at the same corner, our rear wheel slipping into a huge crack in the pavement. My tumble was routine--a little road rash and a hole in my shorts. Melissa's was potentially much more serious as she landed on her hip that has been replaced x2. She rode on for 10 miles and then decided to have it checked out. Fortunately the damage was not structural, just soft tissue. She's off the bike for maybe a week, and on crutches till she can weight bear again.

Meanwhile the rain came in monsoon like torrents followed by dry pavement and sunshine, over and over and over again. Jonathan approached the PAC Tour record of the number of flats in one day--7. Lon holds the record, though, 10 in 35 minutes on one of the Route 66 Tours.

Greg found his 11th license plate today. I believe he has one from each of the states we've ridden in, with some dupes. John's dog count is up to 51--the number of dogs that has rushed him, and we have the biggest dog rushing states yet to ride!

Pictures were scarce today as our cameras were zip locked in plastic bags. The forecast is much the same for tomorrow, although our distance is less--115 miles and 5,500' of climbing.

Susan and Melissa eating at the trailer after returning from the hospital.

Day 23_July 27-->Clarksdale, MS

2009-07-27T21:39:00.002-05:00

Yes, we entered Mississippi today, only two more states to go and 7 more riding days. Wow, hardly seems like 3+ weeks ago that we all sat on our bikes in the parking lot in Troutdale, OR, no one willing to make the first move to roll out and get this Tour underway.

The parking lot was still on the dark side as breakfast was at 6:00 and ride out at 6:30. Long day today, 134 miles with temps surely to be in the 100's and the humidity nearly the same. The breakfast benches were configured just a little differently today, they reminded me of a pre-school line-up of sorts.

Steve, from the Southern Transcon will be riding with us today and then will drive the 5 hours home to KY from Clarksdale, MS.

Sunrise as we left Pine Bluff

Today was particularly flat, topographically, but actually quite rich in experience. Road kill was plentiful: hog (not sure if it was domestic or wild), many snakes, raccoons, and, of course, armadillos. I was struck today with how frequently we cyclists smell death. Those riding in cars might smell a skunk, but the smell of death is not a part of a car passenger's experience, especially not these days when windows are sealed tight for climate control.

Climate control was the mo for all of us today. It's a tricky thing to balance fluids, electrolytes, and fuel on rides of >100 miles in high heat and humidity. Thanks goodness for Hammer Products designed to fuel and hydrate endurance athletes. I even broke out my Ice Collar today, an extra large men's soccer tube sock, which I filled with ice and tied around my neck. A fully stuffed sock would be totally melted in 10 miles. I'm sporting it at the "Welcome to Mississippi" sign.

The crop dusters were doing aerial acrobatics for us, I'm sure of it. As they'd disgorge their belly of airborne pesticide all I could think of was Agent Orange. I recommitted to buying organic and local.

We crossed the Arkansas River early in the day, a warm-up to the Mississippi River crossing at the end of our day.

Crossing Tom Sawyer's River at Helena, AR was anticlimactic this time around. In the 2006 Transcon we crossed about 7:00 a.m. with the sun rising over the river and no hint of traffic. And, I was flooded with a river of emotions anchored in finally being east of the Mississippi, where home had been (and still is) for me, all my life.

This year we crossed about 1:30 p.m. in the heat of the day and the heat of truck traffic. The nearly 1 mile long bridge has only a 12" shoulder which makes sharing the lane with trucks and cars anything but a relaxing photo opportunity. You just want to get off the bridge safely.

Churches are also plentiful in these parts, most quite humble in structure. This one made me chuckle.

St. Matthew Gum Bottom Baptist Church. I don't know what Gum Bottom means to them, but to me it meant cleaning the under side of pews of gum bored young'ns had stuck there for posterity.

Click on the pix to zoom in.

Day 22_July 26-->Pine Bluff, AR

2009-07-26T16:33:00.006-05:00

You could say this was the Day of the Dogs--trailer dogs that is. On the phylogeny scale, trailer dogs are one step above feral and one step below farm. About a dozen came out to greet me, but my sweet talk strategy continues to work for me.

Weather.com didn't have good things to say about our weather for today. Serious thunderstorms were in the offing. When the temp at 6:00 a.m. was 78 and the humidity was 88%, we knew we were in for a scorcher and maybe rain wouldn't be so bad after all.

We did get some rain off and on for the first 30-40 miles; actually it felt pretty good. Greg summed it up perfectly: "You know you're in the southeast when you don't know if you're wet from rain, sweat, humidity, or Gatorade".

The roads today were not particularly picture worthy, but they sure were pleasant: decent road surface, no traffic, lush, but unremarkable, vegetation, and lots of churches, mostly Baptist of one flavor or another. This is Sunday and we were traveling through church-land during worship hours. Many of them had only 5 or 6 cars in their parking area, which was sometimes the grass. We passed through several little towns whose population ranged from 200-500, places such as Faith, Friendship, Leola, Rolla, and Grapevine. Always makes me chuckle: just how does my nutritionist expect me to find gluten free, corn free, soy free, dairy free, dye free, sugar free food in places the likes of these?

My friend, Steve Dieball from the Southern, surprised me and drove 7 hours from Smiths Grove, KY to Pine Bluff, AR then rode our route backwards 23 miles to meet us at our lunch stop. He'll ride the 134 miles with us tomorrow to Clarksdale, MS and will then drive back home.

Steve and I drove around Pine Bluff (in his car) and found the place to truly be in a state of decline. Don't know if downtown has moved someplace else, or if it is falling on harder economic times than other places. Lots of abandoned store fronts. One Sunbeam sign that is circa 1950 and a delightful sign on the old train station.

Not sure what my preoccupation with laundry is but here's another variation of PAC laundry.

I think maybe it's that our life on the road is such a time warp, a total detachment from our other life of family, work, civic, and social connections. Laundry is one of the few threads that bind our two worlds. Maybe?

Day 21_July 25-->Arkadelphia, AR

2009-07-25T18:38:00.002-05:00

What a joy today was. I had opted out of the infinity number of 13-17% climbs yesterday on the Telimina Parkway, but I got to taste them this morning, maybe about 6 hills for a total of 500' of climbing in 12 miles. I didn't need more to get the picture. :)

I am continuing to savor the treat of staying at the Queen Wilhelmina State Park last night 2000' above the verdant valleys. Reminded me of the Blue Ridge Parkway, but in Arkansas. Such a delightful change from the Days Inn-type accommodations on an Interstate Exchange with Jake brakes growling into the night.

Our first rest stop at mile 33 was at the Big Fork Mall; we had "rested" there in 2006 as well. It was good to be back. I believe some of the items on the shelves hadn't moved in three years.

The terrain today was made for me/recumbents. Loved the fast descents with an immediate upswell. Played on the hills with Tom, Greg, and Lori--nice to be able to ride with them today. Usually they're long-gone ahead of me.

I'm excited to be approaching the Southeast and hopeful for some photo ops of church signs. Actually found two today and we're still only in Arkansas.

A couple nights ago the guys had a shaving party--their legs that is. I do believe there is only one hold-out in the male under 50 crowd. They claim it helps the bugs not stick to their legs. Hmmm.

Only 102 miles today so we were in early and were finished with dinner by 6:00. Maybe I can actually go to bed earlier tonight.

Oh, yet another variation of laundry PAC style:

Day 20_July 23-->Mena, AR

2009-07-24T19:34:00.002-05:00

Today marks the completion of 2/3's of our Tour. So far we have traveled 2,344 miles longitudinally and 93,400' vertically; some of us think we can smell the salt water of the Atlantic already.

Days 1, 9, 12 and 20 were big days:

Day 1: The Dalles, OR--103 miles, 8,300'

Day 9: Vernal, UT--149 miles, 8,550'

Day 12: Buena Vista, CO--107 miles, 8,000' (Independence Pass)

Day 20: Talimena Lodge, AR--100 miles, 7,500' (Talimena Parkway)

From here to Savannah our days are expected to be shorter and flatter, music to my legs and feet being the Midwest flat lander that I am.

The cue card said nothing about off roading at mile 20. After a group huddle and discussion with a construction authority we proceeded. As I looked at us single filing through clouds of dust carrying our most prized possession, it looked to me like we were crossing some border, fleeing some oppressor, but the feelings were not congruent with such a march.

Per plan I had opted out of climbing the second 50 miles of the day all at 10-13% grade. That choice seemed congruent with my new-found peacefulness of not try to prove to myself that I was not 63+.

Three years ago on the Southern Transcon I opted to take "the low road" to Mena, AR bypassing the Talimena Parkway. While that worked well for me bike-wise, I missed the glorious beauty of vista after vista from atop the Parkway. Catching the views from the van was a wonderful treat.

And then, of course, we greeted a new state.

Brian Stockbridge, one of our riders who had planned to ride the full distance, had to leave in Amarillo. He was riding this Tour as a fundraiser for the Nevus Outreach Foundation. His son had died of this condition in 1997 at the age of 7. Since many had pledged a dollar amount per mile that we would ride, the rest of the riders picked up the mantle to finish the ride for him. Mark, from the Nevus Outreach in Bartlesville, OK, drove 200+ miles to meet us here at the Talimena Lodge, share the mission of the Foundation, and he bought us dinner!

Brian, we'll be riding for you, David, and all the others who are trying to manage their lives with a giant nevus.

Day 19_July 22-->McAlester, OK

2009-07-23T20:25:00.002-05:00

I'm still remembering yesterday's ride with great fondness, maybe my funnest riding day. There were others that were more strikingly scenic, but as for pure fun, yesterday is the winner, so far. Quite a bit of steep climbing but they were all hills built for my style of recumbent riding--steep climb followed immediately by a fast descent that carried me up 2/3's to 3/4 up the next hill. Over and over and over again. Loved it.

Today was similar in distance and amount of climbing, but the hills were not as much my style, so more of a workout with less of the pleasure.

But, what was absolutely delightful today were all the sounds, Midwest sounds,I'd say. We'd ride through ranch lands and then into a wooded section, rich with deciduous trees that offered a vibrant orchestra in its tune-up mode--cicadas, birds, frogs all in full throat.

Road kill has shifted from deer, racoon, and an occasional porcupine, to armadillos, actually lots of them. Lon was recalling the fully rigor mortissed bobcat he found along side the road on a previous tour on this route. He stopped, took off his front wheel, scooped it up and stood it up on its hind legs along side the road. When the riders passed it later in the day, well, let's say it was the talk of dinner that night. Pretty funny. Reminded me that yesterday I'd seen a mail box that had been toppled. On closer inspection t'was not a mail box but a rigor mortissed deer.

My head is in a much better place today, too, thank goodness. I'm feeling full of gratitude for the gift of being able to ride this Tour: to be fit enough; to not be compromised by medical issues; to have the family support; to have the finances in place; and the time to be able to pursue this quest which seems to have an increasing focus on integration of whole life experience. Exactly how I will be called to share the wisdom remains to be discerned. I'm committed to staying open to learning more about that, and am much more accepting that at age 63.75 I am not supposed to be able to compete with men or women 20 years my junior.

Pictures today seem a little impoverished compared to the striking beauty of of OR, ID, UT, and CO. But, that, too, is the way life is.

The most photogenic opportunity in Clinton, OK. That's Russell, assuming the position with his hand over his heart, but alas, he's from the UK.

Daily message board with instructions re: dinner options for tonight and ride out time for tomorrow morning. Click to zoom in.

Massage sign-up book outside Jon Jahant's, room, our massage therapist.

Another variation of laundry PAC style. Doesn't take long to dry when the temperature on the Atomic clock/thermometer on the motel truck reads 112.

Day 18_July 22-->Purcell, OK

2009-07-22T20:58:00.002-05:00

My extra sleep last night successfully rearranged my attitude positively and restored some energy to my legs.

I decided to ride alone today, not try to ride with anyone. If someone came up along side and was riding my pace, fine. But otherwise I'd ride my own ride having no expectations and making no assumptions. Seemed to work well.

Loved today's route, the hills reminded me of hills in Wisconsin near Verona and Madison where Mark, Jeff, and I did a bunch of riding before the transcon; also reminded me of the hills up by Stevens Point, WI and on the TOMRV route--the Quad Cities-->Dubuque, IA and back. Before we hit the hills we were back on Old Route 66. Interesting how the old and the new are juxtaposed.

Hills, rollers they're called, don't capture well on my camera and that constituted most of our scenery today. But I can offer you these pix, the like of which would not be seen around Chicago. :)

Received an awesome care package today from LB which will help supplement my nutritional gaps given my myriad food intolerances.

Thanks LB :)

Day 17_July 21-->Weatherford, OK

2009-07-22T20:56:00.002-05:00

Route from Shamrock, Tx-->Weatherford, OK

We captured our 7th state at mile 15.

On paper today's journey should have been an easy one: 105 miles, only 2,500' of climbing, and two Route 66 Museum stops, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. It turned out to be anything but easy, at least for me.

First, my legs just had no energy, very sluggish. I tried to hang on to the wheels of Franz, Ellie, Melissa, and Jonathan. I did for the first 25 miles to Erick, OK where we paused briefly to capture the lore of the town in a photo.

After the photo op I couldn't hang on any longer and fell off the rear leaving me to battle the 30 mph head wind by myself. For some reason I was feeling particularly limbic today (emotional) so took being dropped quite personally. By the time I reached the 2nd rest stop at mile 54 I had nothing left, physically or emotionally, so opted to SAG to lunch, 18 miles up the road.

I did revisit the National Route 66 Museum in Elk City, at mile 54. They capture the "stuff" that made up the lifestyle of the 1940's, 50's and 60's, oh so well. Would love to be able to spend a couple of hours savoring. After all, those are my formative decades.

Oklahoma's piece of The Mother Road

The SAG plus lunch brought some life to my legs, but not my spirit. Rode alone to Weatherford, home of Astromaut Thomas Stafford and literally hundreds of windmills. Each of those windmill blades is probably 90' long, each windmill costs in the neighborhood of $1 million. In these parts it is common to be passed by a truck bearing the Oversize Load warning carrying one windmill blade.

For the first time on this Tour I forgot to bring my computer in to my room--left it in the motel truck. I considered it a good accident that allowed me to go to bed early and hopefully rest my body and my spirit.

Day 16_July 20-->Shamrock, TX

2009-07-20T20:50:00.003-05:00

Remember to click on the pix if you want to zoom in.

Amarillo--> Shamrock today. In 2006 when I rode this route we had a 40 mph tail wind. Today we had about a 25 mph cross wind which never let up, but the temperature did go up, up to 103.

Today and the next two days we'll be on and off Route 66. This time on The Mother Road I find myself much more sensitized and sensitive to what it must have been like for folks in the 1920's--1940's to live in such expanse; be constrained to their acreage, or mileage.(A couple of days ago when riding on the Interstate we passed 4 exits, a mile in between each, all for a particular individual's ranch. Can't even imagine that much property, let alone what to do with it if I had it!) And then, for Route 66 to open up the country to both those living on this frontier as well as others who wanted to get out and see our country. So much of this area's identity is wrapped up in Route 66--even the rest stop on I-40 is bedecked in Route 66 lore.

Mosaic on the bathroom wall at the rest stop on I-40

Warning outside the rest room at the I-40 rest stop. If you can't read the sign, the warning is about staying on the path to avoid the rattlesnakes. Now that's not a Chicago hazard.

Breaks your heart to see these tiny little towns like Conway and Groom that were once booming and that are now nearly ghosted with population in the 2-300's. I wonder, too, as I ride through the emptiness, what it would be like, who I would be, if I had grown up and lived in a place such as Conway. I say that not as a "one up" statement, simply a musing; there are always gifts and debits to everyone's culture.

Lunch was in McClean, TX, population 500ish, about twice the size of Canning where we lunched with the flies yesterday. Seems the biggest "industry" in McClean is the Route 66 Museum. Spent a few minutes inside and came out with 3 take-aways: first, no clue what the significance of barbed wire was back in those days, but it apparently was HUGE. The Museum entrance is even flanked by two huge balls of barbed wire; books on barbed wire fill the shelves; and evidence on the walls that each state on The Mother Road has a Barbed Wire Association. Second, the devastation of the Dust Bowl, back in an era when there was no federal aid for disasters; and 3rd actually cost me $1.08--a Don't Mess With Texas decal for Daniel who has been wanting one for some time.

Devil's Rope Museum in McClean

Barbed Wire balls flanking the entrance to the museum

One of many books on the history of Barbed Wire

Barbed Wire Collectors Association plaques.

The 1st Phillips 66 station in Texas built in 1920 which operated for 50 years.

Another scorcher of a day, but the mileage was only 93 so not quite so debilitating.

Tonight we're in the Irish Inn in Shamrock. Our hotels could be rated by the towels. There are three grades of hotels/towels: Plush (lots of heft and absorbency and actually big enough to wrap around your body), See Through (no explanation needed), and Exfoliating, (so coarse you'd think you were drying with a spa-grade lufa). The Shamrock is of the third ilk.

Route 66 icon. Russell is a rider, not an icon :)

Day 15_July 19-->Amarillo

2009-07-19T23:49:00.002-05:00

This just may have been one of the most eventful days of the Tour to date. Nothing momentous, but just lots of little things that when woven into the fabric of the day makes for a very colorful tapestry.

For starters it is Day 15, the half-way point of the Tour, in terms of days. In terms of miles, we've completed 52% and in terms of climbing we've completed 57%. Raw numbers you ask? As we shut our eyes tonight for the 15th time, we have biked 1,819 miles and climbed 53,400'

For seconds, as I mentioned yesterday, two more riders, Brian and Anne, will be leaving the Tour at the end of today. Barb, Phil, and Zoe Bohaty (crew) will also be leaving and John Lake and Jon Jahant will be joining as crew.

For thirds, we left New Mexico and entered Texas with all its massive expanse of blazing hot, flat ranch lands with severe cross winds.

Melissa, Brian, Ellie, and Franz at the border

And then there was the doe we passed only about 10 miles out of Clayton, NM that had been mortally wounded by a motor vehicle, but was still alive. She would raise her head with those deer-in-the-headlights big eyes and look at each of us as we passed. Where in the hell was one of thousands of Texans with a gun when you need them? I kept hoping I would hear a report (gun) signifying that someone had put her out of her pain; but alas there was only silence. As I write this I realize now why much of this day has been colored with such waves of emotional vulnerability. That visual is hard to set aside.

And then there was the unstoppable wind that laid the prairie grass low as either a head or cross wind, depending upon whether we were heading east or south. And it just never let up. At the same time, the temperature kept heating up to a final resting place of 100. Seven of us worked together in pace line or echelon formation to create some protection from the wind. That worked well till lunch.

Lunch was at mile 85 in Channing, a near ghost town of 500 people. Although we were under a large shade tree, the grass was as sharp as hay and felt like it could spontaneously combust with the least provocation. Although I couldn't smell it, the word was that there were feedlots near by. Hence the flies were swarming like the birds in Hitchcock's movie by the same title. They were so many, and so "tame" they would not even leave their resting place on our food when shooed. I'm sure some of us ate some thinking they were walnuts in our orange salad.

A ghosted building in Channing that once sold candles.

In our 20 minute lunch break I couldn't cool down fast enough to ride out with the 7-person train so opted to SAG down the road in the air conditioning until I thermoregulated. Out of the van at mile 104. Next rest stop was mile 128. The temperature must have gone up another 5-7 degrees since before lunch and the wind was just as evil.

I knew I was hot when I pulled into the rest stop, but just how hot I didn't know till I got off the bike. Riders who had never SAGGED on the Tour were in the van. They said I was delirious, staggering, and really not able to think well at all. What I remember is pouring ice water down my throat as fast as I could swallow it, in my shoes to cool my feet that felt like they were on fire, down my jersey in both the front and the back, and stuffing ice under my skull cap. When I finally stopped pouring water all over me crew had loaded my bike in the van and told me which seat in the van was mine. I had my heart set on riding those last 18 miles, but it was probably a wise and safe thing to have SAGGED.

Tonight we are at the legendary Big Texan. Best you read about it for yourself. http://www.bigtexan.com/ I mention this because there is a happy ending to an animal story that happened in the parking lot of the Big Texan. AT mile 66 the lunch truck passed through Hartley, TX, population 427. They found a 10 week old Jack Russell terrier. Hartely, the name given the little guy by Zoe, age 8, was given water from the truck and a ride on into Amarillo and the Big Texan. Queries were made in the parking lot if anyone wanted a puppy. And the good new is a waitress at The Big Texan wanted to give Hartley a home on her ranch with other dogs and horses.

Hartley

Melissa, Russell, Ellie, Tom, and Franz waiting for dinner at The Big Texan

This family of cowboys, two young adults and two father figure types sat at the end of our table. When their food came they all removed their hats, held hands, prayed, and then put their hats back on.

And finally, we entered a new time zone today. We are now on in the Central time zone, my home zone.

Day 14_July 18-->Clayton, NM

2009-07-18T21:48:00.002-05:00

Route from Walsenburg, CO-->Clayton, NM--our 6th of 12 states, but not a new state for me in terms of having ridden there.

Once again I'm struck with the different moods of the group, day to day. Tomorrow will mark the half-way point, day-wise, for this Tour. We started this Tour with 22 paying riders and about 10 crew. (Crew ride every-other day). By the end of tomorrow we will have lost 5 paying riders and 3 crew, so the group dynamic will surely be different.

Two riders have left because of injury, one half-tour rider left early for work-related reasons, one rider will leave for personal reasons, and one will leave because she could only get time off work to ride half the tour. Our massage therapist, her husband who crewed, and their 8 y.o. daughter will be leaving tomorrow also, a planned leave-taking. Four weeks is a long time for a family to be on tour. A PAC veteran massage therapist will join us in Amarillo tomorrow to support our aching muscles for the eastern half of the ride.

So, I'm sure all of the above factored in to the out-of-sorts-ness of the day. That Larry was injured yesterday didn't help either. That this was a 156 mile day was certainly a factor. The fact that we were on I-25 for about 25 miles, and then a frontage road that didn't deserve the title of road contributed. The unsavory roads contributed to many of us having tire issues, not something you want to deal with on a 156 mile day. An then there was the wind that swirled from all directions with gusts up to 35 mph along with temps that reached nearly 100 before the front came through that was preceded by a scary, black sky streaked with lightning.

These parts seem to have different clouds than I'm used to in the Midwest. Don't think this pix does them justice, but maybe you can get a sense of them.

I had a flat again today, the result of one of those tiny wires from truck retreads being sprayed along the road. I found the wire at the first SAG stop on the Interstate, got it out, but the tire went down 3 miles later. It helped that we were off the Interstate by then.

Jonathan, Ellie, Melissa, and I were riding together to the 2nd SAG at mile 55. Ellie wasn't feeling well so SAGGED the rest of the day. The three of us took off together, but I couldn't hang on to them so I was on my own for the next 30 miles of hot, windy road that was steadily ascending through 6,200' elevation. By the time I got to lunch at mile 87 I was breathless. It's no fun to be the last rider riding. All the other back-riders were SAGGING today, and Jonathan was pulling Melissa. I needed more than the 20 minutes it takes to swallow lunch to catch my breath so decided to SAG from lunch to mile 129.

The lines mark the 42 miles I SAGGED.

Branson, home of today's lunch, seems like a lost, deserted, windswept town. Here's what gave me a clue:

Farm in ruins and abandoned

In real-life it hardly looks like a going concern

The old Branson jail. That's Zoe, our 8 year old crew member, trying out the accommodations. :)

Saw a couple of these signs along the way that were quite curious to me. Any ideas?

Tomorrow is 146 miles to Amarillo. From there to the finish will be nearly the same route I rode three years ago on the Southern Transcon. I'm actually very much looking forward to being "back again."

Day 13_July 17-->Walsenburg, CO

2009-07-17T22:09:00.002-05:00

131 miles today. Left Buena Vista at 6:30 a.m. and 7,900' elevation to enjoy a glorious descent into Big Horn Sheep Canyon and 6,200' elevation. Breathing was easier and my kidneys began to release all the fluid retained from the high elevation of the day before.

So much for the descent and breathing easy as we began climbing again to 8,600'--2,400' in 15 miles. But, there were few cars and Franz, Ellie, Melissa and I worked together so it wasn't that bad. We were joined from time to time by Bob, Neal, Greg, and Larry.

The afternoon was hot and the winds picked up BIG time. They couldn't decide where they wanted to come from so they came from all 4 quadrants at one time or another.

Had my first flat 2 miles from the hotel. I knew my luck would run out at some point.

The sad news of the day is that at the last SAG stop, about 17 miles from the motel, Larry slipped in the gravel turning into the SAG and went down. His hip is broken (may be the acetabulum, could be the head of the femor, conflicting stories at this time). He's on his way by ambulance to Denver as I write. His wife is flying in from Las Vegas tomorrow. It was Larry's Titanium bike that cracked on Day 2, and now...

Didn't take many pictures today as the views were all these panoramic vistas that just don't show up well in my little point and shoot.

Dinner was a high point. The PAC vans shuttled us 3 miles into town to The Iron Horse restaurant which was totally unprepared for 30 hungry riders on a Friday night. As we were paying our bill a train whizzed by, the tracks no more than 30 feet from the restaurant, whistle blaring. I thought I was in My Cousin Vinny. Only Bob and I could appreciate the humor of it all. "Vinny" had not made the list for the Canadians and Australians who were with us.

The dinner bunch:

The motel is noteworthy, though. Brilliant mustard yellow, the exterior. The interior is vintage 1950. It has been upgraded to offer a wall-mounted TV which is sure to amputate some part of you in the middle of the night.

The shower is really special, especially the stone mosaic flooring. Everyone would quest after this look, for sure.

Gotta hit the hay as breakfast is at 5:30 with ride out at 6:00. Tomorrow is a 156 mile day to Clayton, NM.

Day 12_July 16-->Buena Vista, CO

2009-07-16T22:48:00.002-05:00

Bikes are primed and ready for ride-out.

You can read the energy in the air and know what the riders are thinking and feeling about the day's ride that lies ahead. Today the charge is 106 miles up and over Independence Pass, a Pass that is usually open only two months a year--too high, too narrow, too much snow to be open more than that. Riders were quiet, focused, and rallying their physical, mental, and spiritual mettle to climb 8,000' at an altitude of greater than 12,000 feet.

The first 40 miles were sort of a tease--a mostly paved bike path from Glenwood Springs to Aspen.

A little too much traffic for peeing along the road, but we did find this conveniently located church with 21st century outdoor plumbing.

I knew I don't do well at an altitude greater than 9,000' so planned to jump in the SAG wagon at about that level, and ride up and over the summit and get dropped off at about 9,000' on the other side.

Here's a pix of the profile of the ride--worth a click on the pix to see the elevation gain. The line markers indicate where I climbed to and where I was dropped off.

A function of the aging process is that we lose about 1% of our lung capacity per year beginning at age 25 and about 2% of our overall fitness every year from age 50 forward. I consider myself only an average, everyday "athlete", even in my "youth". The gap between me and the front runners on days like today make it very apparent to me that I am clearly aging, I hope with grace and gratitude.

The views on the up and the down were nothing short of breathtaking. Here are a few to whet your appetite to visit sometime soon.

Independence Pass Summit

Up

and upper up

Sure beat riding on the interstate :)

Day 11_July 15-->Glenwood Springs, CO

2009-07-15T22:26:00.002-05:00

Over 4,000' of climbing reaching a max elevation of 7,483'

Today was back to work with a strong headwind till the second Rest Stop. Then we were on this curious stretch of road for 40 miles with verdant mountains on the left and scary-sized gravel pits, Exon-Mobil drilling/refinery plants, and cement factories. The juxtapositioning of the two was somewhat disorienting, although you couldn't let your head go there as there was a never-ending trail of trucks coming at us and passing us for a very long time. Road was narrow, too, with no shoulder. Even had a couple of oversized vehicles for which we had to get off the road or...

Finally caught up with Bob at a rest stop today. He was sporting a new hair cut.

Chicago has a lot to offer, but I've never seen a sign like this in our neck of the woods.

Gregg and Melissa riding the 40 mile stretch in between 18 wheelers.

The beauty of the countryside was spectacular. Only wish my little point and shoot could capture its magnitude. This will give you a glimpse.

One of our Rest Stops was in Rifle. Interesting that there is a prison in Rifle, hmmm. The Cubs play in Rifle, too. The way the Chicago Cubs have been playing maybe they should be farmed out to Rifle.

There's a chain of mini marts in these western parts with a most unfortunate name.

Glenwood Springs is a real town with a sportin' history of notables back in the 1920's. Hotel Colorado, 1899, was the hub of much of that activity.

Finished off the day with ice cream and brownies, compliments of NY Greg's mom.

Click on the pix to zoom in.

Day 10_July 14-->Rangely, CO

2009-07-14T18:49:00.002-05:00

The troops were absolutely giddy about getting to "sleep in" today with ride-out being 8:30 a.m. instead of the usual 6:30. Only 50 miles and 1,000' of climbing today compared to 150 miles and 7,500' of climbing yesterday. Today was like a real vacation with everyone's spirits being light, chattering all down the highway, bunched up at the rest stops rather than the usual grab and go to grind some more miles.

Greg, Christopher, and Rebecca at b'fast in a real restaurant with real cutlery--not a parking lot with a spork.

You gotta click on this pix to zoom in to see the motley crew the morning after the 150 mile ride. Ann and Jonathan in the front, Bob, Karl, and Walt in the back.

Melissa, Jonathan and I even had time for a stop at the espresso shop in Vernal, UT before leaving for Rangely.

There really is a town called Dinosaur, CO. This dino found his way to Vernal, however.

Some fun notes from the past few days for which there wasn't time to mention what for long days and tired bods.

These goats were actually mating on top this car, but got embarrassed when we rode by and paused.

Greg, our 16 y.o. rider, enjoying some ice cream along the way.

On Sunday, climbing to Evanston, WY, way up at 9,000' the butterflies were as prevalent as moths around lights at night in the summer time. They'd fly right into me and then flutter off. Never seen so many in "the wild" before.

Here's proof we were at 9,000'

The descent that day was possibly even more remarkable, at least for Jonathan and Neil. That was the 15 mile descent from 9,000' to 4,500' so they had up quite a head of steam. A pick-up truck passed them, paused to hold up as they rode beside the riders giving the two female passengers sufficient time to fully flash their bare chests. Good technical riding on the riders' part to keep their wheels on the road.

Now, back to today--Vernal-->Rangely.

Doug celebrating the CO border

Greg is now licensed in CO :)

Katie, on the table, looks like she's in a cabana in the Caribbean instead of at a scenic view in CO.

Melissa and me at the same rest stop as above where Katie is in the cabana

Lunch in the park in Rangely

Even time for coffee at Rangely's Espresso bar before our rooms were ready. L-R, Jonathan, Russell, Eleonor, Doug, Ann, and Melissa in the back.

Rangely humor. Bad.

Laundry in Rangely.

Vernal, UT Con't.

2009-07-13T22:54:00.002-05:00

This day was full of beauty, lots of rigors, and some performance surprises, at least for me.

The beauty is captured in the previous post. The rigors included 7,500' of climbing, an elevation of 8,031', 148 miles, and 90+ degree temps.

This is the route profile for the first 123 miles. Click on the pic to see the feet of elevation gain.

Performance surprise for me was about my inability to ride but about half the route. My legs just couldn't do that kind of climbing back to back. My best understanding at the moment is my aging factor (described in the "Who's On Tour" post) and my nutritional disadvantage. My carbo loading options are minimal (no pasta, no breads, no desserts, no ice creams, no beer). In the non-tour world my way of eating is a quite healthy way of living. But on-tour there is just not enough fuel going in to turn the cranks. Chips, olives, avocados, chicken or tuna salad without dressing, and unsweetened iced tea can carry me only so far. Consequently I spent a number of miles today in the SAG truck. Again, sobering.

Day 9_July 13-->Vernal, UT

2009-07-13T22:53:00.002-05:00

Our route from Evanston, WY-->Vernal, UT

We have had glorious scenery every day, but this day had to be right up there near the top. Our country is phenomenally beautiful and diverse.

Who's On Tour

2009-07-13T22:50:00.002-05:00

Including crew, this Transcon is half the size of the Southern that I rode in 2006. Makes for some interesting differences.

Here's the breakdown by numbers:

Males by Age	Number on Tour	Females by Age	Number on Tour
16	1	20-25	1
20-25	2	30-35	1
30-35	1	36-40	2
36-40	2	41-45	4
41-45	2	51-55	2
46-50	5	63	1--Me
51-55	7
56-60	2
61-65	1
66	1
Totals	24		11

The major difference is that this is a much more "elite" group in terms of riding credentials/pedigree. Several (men and women) have done Team RAAM (Race Across America), PBP (Paris-Brest-Paris, a 750 mile event that must be completed in 90 hours, and Furnace Creek 508 (a premiere 508 mile event in the Nevada desert that many will race as a qualifier for other premiere events such as RAAM.

That this Tour is half the size has made for a fast front pack and the caboose. In the 2006 Transcon I came in solidly in the middle or upper middle of the pack every day. This tour I am in the caboose, along with 4-5 others. Quite demoralizing actually.

The last difference, at least for me, is that I am now 63 3/4. Although I think in many ways I am a better rider now thanI was 3 years ago, I do seem to need more recovery time after either extra-long rides (>116 miles) or rides with greater than 4,500' of climbing. We've had many of those "more than" days so far.

Somewhat sobering to stare the consequence of aging so squarely in the eye.

Inside PAC Tour

2009-07-13T22:47:00.002-05:00

Thought you might like to see some pictures of the support vehicles that leap frog the riders down the road providing SAG support. Riders want for nothing--snacks, ice, HAMMER products, tubes, tires, master mechanics for the big stuff, and bumps up the road when/if a rider falls too far behind.

Inside the Motel Truck--ice chests full of cola, barrels of ice water and Gatorade.

Susan in her "kitchen"

Shelves in the "kitchen"

Christopher "manning" the bagel station for breakfast

The caravan waiting for riders at a SAG stop marked by the yellow flag. Notice how windy it is that the flag is sticking straight out.

Inside the back of the caravan full of supplies

Message board for dinner possibilities, route changes for the next day and times for breakfast, trailer loading with gear bags, and ride out.

Laundry PAC style

Day 8_July 12-->Evanston, WY

2009-07-12T22:38:00.002-05:00

Our route from Brigham City, UT to Evanston, WY

Another new state--both geographically, mentally,and emotionally.

Started the day off with a breakfast of soupy dairy-free ice cream (no freezer in in-room refrigerator) mixed with left over rice from lunch the day before. I know it sounds horrible, but given my state of nutritional depletion, it was tasty and went down easily.

Ride out from the motel.

Today we'd climb to 9,000' of elevation (pretty high for this flatlander who lives at 600') for a total of about 5,000' of climbing. One stretch took Ellie, Melissa, and me 1 hour and 52 minutes to climb 10 miles. T'was a slow go. But the 15 mile descent was a well-deserved payback.

Sign says Peds and Cyclists are not recommended to ride this road as it's too narrow and twisty. Hmmm

Click to zoom in and see the glorious poppies

Ellie, Melissa,and me.

Day 7_July 11-->Brigham City, UT

2009-07-12T22:37:00.002-05:00

Route to Brigham City, UT

Welcome to Utah

Bisti, the PAC Tour mascot

ATX rocket display about 20 miles out of Brigham City

Rain in the distance

Jonathan en route

Not snow, not ice, but salt!

A new state for me--both geographically and emotionally. 147 miles from Burley, ID-->Brigham City, UT and I was running on empty, fuel-wise. Nutrition is HUGE in events like this and I had become nutritionally depleted between my plethora of food intolerances (all dairy, all grains except rice, and sugar) and my body not having completed the physiological acclimatization to riding 800-1000 miles a week. Consequently I had no appetite, even the thought of food was nauseating.

By the time I reached the first rest stop at mile 20 I simply couldn't turn the cranks anymore. I SAGGED to lunch and then got back on my bike and rode the 60 miles in. Still running on fumes and didn't know how I was going to rectify the situation. No emotional reserves, either, as I was so undernourished, yet had no appetite. H.A.L.T. was fully operating, the famous acronym in the 12-Step Program. Being hungry, angry, lonely, and tired are states of mind and body you do not want as they are triggers for all kinds of mental foul play.

Believe it or not Super Wal-Mart helped save the day. Bought and ate part of a rotisserie chicken and 1/4 of a quart of dairy free ice cream. Began to come back to life. Talked to my son, Bryan, who was an awesome listener and helped me strategize food options. Odwalla to the rescue! I'm beginning to feel hopeful.

Welcome!

Day 6_July 10-->Burley, ID

2009-07-12T22:35:00.002-05:00

Our route from Mountain Home to Burley, ID

Sunrise before leaving Mountain Home

Doug posing at breakfast before heading out to Burley.

A LONG, HOT day--138 miles of head wind in 90 degree temps. The best news is that I had riding buddies the whole day long. The core group was Franz and Elenor from Canada and Melissa from Australia. Brian from CT, and Greg (age 16) from near NYC were a part of us for part of the day. Although we weren't in the desert technically, it had that feel of endless openness, beauty in the distance, and nowhere to hide from the sun, nary even a gas station. It was an 11 and a half hour day so no time for bike cleaning, Only time for a shower and a meal before hitting the hay as tomorrow promises to be a 147 mile day.

Click to zoom in: the irrigation early in the morning was spectacular.

Lots of climbing this day

The faster riders could afford to stop for ice cream.

Day 5_July 9--Mountain View

2009-07-09T23:05:00.002-05:00

Another glorious day weather-wise and route-wise. Montana's moniker is "Big Sky" but the skies seemed awfully big today here in Idaho. Can only imagine how much bigger they must be in Montana!

On these endurance runs one can expect that somewhere between Day 5 and 7 your body will kick into a new metabolism and rhythm having acclimatized to the new demands being placed on it day after day. The first 4 days I felt almost great after each ride. But today I was working hard and it wasn't a hard day, actually only 98 miles and 3,000' of climbing. But oh the fatigue and leg and foot aches. I am hopeful I find my new realm tomorrow as the next four days are going to be a challenge--nearly 150 miles each day with a lot of climbing. Long days ahead.

Some pictures of riders at lunch today and Rebecca and Christopher entertaining us.