Posts Tagged ‘The 508’

Taper! Anticipate! Stress!

I’ve been negligent on my blog, but there’s a pretty good reason for it. 😉

Let’s start catching up by mentioning the “taper.” This past week/weekend started my tapering for the big race. The last weekend in September was my last for some long rides. I had a great ride with some 508-veteran friends of mine, followed by a long solo ride the next day. Then it was just slowing down and taking it easy. I did 5 hours yesterday, which was great, followed by a (very) deep-tissue massage. And today, an even shorter ride to help settle everything down.

So, it’s all down to the final logistics at this point. I got both my bikes (the Cervelo R3 and the Jamis Xenith SL) into the bike shop for a final clean and tune by my awesome mechanic/bike shop owner/friend/crew member Rob Mardell of La Dolce Velo bikes in San Jose. I’ll get new tubes and tires on both, as well as a new battery for the Polar Heartrate Monitor/Computer. And I’ll pick them up Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning when it’s time to start planning for the big getaway.

I wish I was calmer. I’m stressing over the finances and logistics. There are so many small details; so many little expenses that siphon off a few dollars here, a few more dollars there.

Next up are the final preps and plans. Tuesday/Wednesday night will be the grocery shopping. I have to buy a cooler for the crew van still, which I’ll be renting Wednesday morning. Wednesday afternoon/evening, I’ll be prepping the van with my signage, as well as packing up. Then Thursday it (finally) will be time to pack up the van and head South. Having been through this process a few times, I am well aware of the sense of “inertia” that takes place this week. I know each day is packed with a lot of planning and details. Saturday morning will get here way too fast.

I’m trying to keep the stress to a minimum. I’m trying to just stay cool and zen about the whole process. I escaped last night for a very long drive up the coast. There’s been an unmistakable pull to just go be isolated and shut off the thoughts, so it was good for me.

Santa Clarita is right there. The start line is waiting. I’m nervous. I’m as prepared as I can be. I won’t say I’m “ready.” But I will say I’m ready to start.

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Three P’s

I’ve written about mistakes I want to avoid, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to avoid them.

I’ve given advice, but it’s advice given from the comfort of my living room, not the harshness of the road.

I’ve finished The 508 once, but that was part of a two-man team.

For all the positive thinking, I can come up with a “but” statement that makes me nervous. And seriously, if you aren’t nervous prior to undertaking The 508, something is seriously wrong. There are times when I can see myself achieving even my loftiest goals, but more often than not, I can conjure up imaginings of the wheels coming off.

All my cycling friends are tapering now. My own taper starts on the other side of this weekend. The one comment I get from them and others, though, is “are you ready?” As I said yesterday, “No, I’m not ready. Who’s ever ready to turn themselves inside out the way this course asks you to?”

And that’s really it, isn’t it? There isn’t a rider who will start in Santa Clarita who can’t finish 508 miles in 48 hours. Every single person there has that ability. But what happens out on the course convinces us otherwise. Weather goes squirrelly. We blow up on a climb. We fall “behind,” and get demoralized. We DNF (myself, included. I’ve DNF’d a lot!) not because we physically are incapable of finishing. We DNF because we beat ourselves.

During my ride yesterday, I had plenty of time to think about what it is I am trying to do. I was feeling amazing. I was riding well. I was riding fast. My heart rate was right where I wanted it. Then I hit a hill and things fell apart, quite literally, within a 2-mile stretch. That’s what cycling does. It humbles you. An observer can almost see the exact moment when things stop functioning smoothly. That observer can almost see the moment it becomes a struggle. It was hot yesterday, and this one little climb 50 miles from my house just about did me in. And what do I think? I think “What if that happens on Stage 1? What if this was San Francisquito, and I still have 458 miles to go?”

I rode through it, but it gave me time to consider what it is I need to get me through to the finish.

Patience
I’m not a patient rider. I want to be faster than I really am, and I end up being far too competitive during rides. It really is a struggle for me to ride for the long-haul, not the immediate circumstance. It’s hard to ride for Baker when I’m not even to California City. It’s hard to dial it down a notch when I think about not making Towne Pass before the middle of the night. It’s hard to maintain perspective, which I guess could be another “P.”

Persistence
If I just keep pedaling the end WILL come. (Which, by the way, it always does.) As long as I keep moving forward, I always reach my destination. I have never quit a ride because I thought I couldn’t go one more pedal stroke. I quit rides because I think I can’t go 100 more pedal strokes. Just keep going… the end eventually gets here; the climb eventually summits; the legs eventually feel better. I have keep riding, because I’m too afraid not too.

Perseverance
I had met a group of people from the Bay Area during last year’s race, and we kept in touch. About a week after the race, I got an invite to join them for a ride. It was really tough on me, and I’ve thought about it every day since. I couldn’t ride the race last year because of some health issues. This year, I want to go on that post-508 ride wearing my own jersey. To do so requires perseverance. It requires tenacity and stick-to-itiveness I often wonder if I possess.

This race isn’t just a bike race. This race, for those of us at the back of the pack, is about personal discovery. It’s about growth. It’s about learning what’s inside us. I’m afraid, sometimes, of what I might find. In just a couple weeks, I’m going to line up with a couple hundred other cyclists in Santa Clarita, and I’m going to attempt to ride farther than I’ve ever ridden. I’m going to try to do something I’m not entirely sure I can do.

I’m going to ride in The Furnace Creek 508.

Common Mistakes I Hope To Avoid: Stage 4

On paper, this is my favorite stage. I simply love Death Valley. I’ve had my best and worst rides on this single stretch of road, and it’s the only stretch on which I truly never know what to expect. I love the changing colors and conditions on the valley floor. But during The 508, cruising along in the middle of the night, this is the stage where the reality of the race really starts to set in. In Spring of 2009, I rode in 5 hours to Shoshone from Furnace Creek during the Spring Death Valley Double Century. In the fall, it took me 11.5 hours to cover the same road. Nobody could have expected winds like that. In 2007, I watched the sun rise in the valley floor. In 2010, I saw just how many racers stop to rest and sleep, and how others shine when the sun goes down.

In '09, the climbs out of Death Valley were brutal after the headwinds on the valley floor. I was demoralized, but my crew was awesome. So was the crew of another racer in front of us. The Spirit Of The 508 is humbling, and attitude is everything.

Mistake 1: Dark Thoughts

It’s obvious on this course just how long and hard it is. After Furnace Creek, the physical challenges take a turn. When the sun sets and the dark of night settles in, racers have pushed beyond “double-century” distance and physical issues and into “ultra-marathon” distance and physical issues. In 2009, I was demoralized by the winds. I really did just sit down in Badwater and cry before my crew (who said later they wouldn’t have blamed me for quitting) got me back on the bike (actually, I walked into the wind, because I wasn’t able to clip in) and at least moving.

In 2010, the difference between those who were doing well and those who were struggling (this is a sweeping generalization, mind you), was positive attitude. One of my friends, Western Wood PeeWee, was climbing out and smiling on Jubilee. Butterfly was enjoying the course much more than in ’09. Jaguar was riding briefly with another cyclist and sharing some experience. Attitude is everything.

Mistake 2: Forgetting The Plan
At this point in The 508, it really stops being about the other racers (with notable exceptions for those in the front of the pack) and starts being an “individual effort.” Even though those blinking amber lights look close, they’re often well up the road. There’s no right or wrong way to handle the night. Some of my friends plan on sleeping a couple of hours. Others plan on pushing through to hit Shoshone by dawn. And others are going to wait and see how it goes. I would prefer to not get off the bike to sleep, but I have no way of knowing how I’ll feel once I’m out there. The only thing I know is that I’ll do what’s best for me. If I need to sleep, then I’ll sleep. And if I can get up and over the exit passes in the dark, then that’s fine, too. The fact of the matter is that I still have a double century to ride even though I’ve put 300 miles on my legs.

Mistake 3: The Silent Treatment

The crew is in full-on follow mode, but they still need to be coming up and checking in. It’s easy to get inside your head and question everything: training, planning, distance, speed. Doubts skitter across the mind like the scorpions on the road (Yes, there are scorpions. Lots of them.). In 2009, I was thankful every single moment my crew pulled up to just check on me and give me 15 seconds of conversation. I couldn’t have done it without their encouragement.

Mistake 4: The Silent Treatment, Part Deux

And while I’m talking about crew, here’s where your coherent decisions to choose the right people to sit in that van really pays off. I’m hard headed. I think I know it all out there. “Gels? Nah. I’m good.” It’s easy to be on good terms with the crew in the opening stages. Much different is that conversation in the middle of the night when I’m miserable. I don’t want to eat? Too bad. I think I’m going smooth and don’t need to take 5? Too bad. I think I’m taking in enough fluids and electrolytes and can skip this bottle? Guess again. I have to communicate to my crew. And when I’m not communicating with them, they need to be able to do what they know is right, even though I might be babbling an argument to the contrary.

Mistake 5: That Sinking Feeling

Go back through and read the blogs of 508 Finishers. Read the blogs of those who DNF’d. And read the blogs of those who, like me, barely made it through alive. One common element is stomach issues. It’s amazing how the body just shuts down and says “Yeah, I think we need to be done now.” That relatively civil statement, in my case, was expressed through vomiting and dizziness. Not so much fun. Pay attention to the body. I had been complaining of stomach discomfort for quite some time up Jubilee Pass, but when I descended that short mile off the back, my body just quit. I didn’t want to eat anything at all (sound familiar?). My crew, though, finally convinced me to try a single bite of a Hammer Bar.

Turns out a lot of my “distress” was just being hungry. I’d get sick again (and not just a rumbly tummy from hunger) before the end. But it’s safe to say that expecting the unexpected from your body is a safe bet. As my coach is fond of saying: it’s better to sleep it off and finish in 46 hours than it is to give up and take a DNF.

Mistake 6: Satisfaction

Hey, the “tough part” is over, right? But there are still 200 miles to go. Around Shoshone, I thought it was good to start realizing what I’d already accomplished. I drew determination from what I’d already conquered. After the winds of 2009 in Death Valley, nothing was going to keep me from finishing. Still, we hadn’t finished anything. Ibex Pass isn’t a leg breaker, and if you can make it through Furnace Creek without stopping, you can do the same in Shoshone. Seriously. Just get to Baker. From there, you really can start thinking ahead… a little bit. 🙂

(To Be Continued…)

Climbing and Hammer Products

The stress dreams continue, with The 508 as their centerpiece. Typically, they all involve iterations of those all-too-familiar high-school nightmares: the showing up naked for class or forgetting about the exam that will determine the course of everything to follow. My 508 dreams center around oversleeping for the start. My parents are always my crew in these dreams, which is ironic, given their propensity for punctuality; specifically showing up 15 minutes early for every date. They are always nonchalant about missing the start, and they tell me things like “Oh, well. It’s probably for the best anyway. That’s such a silly race.”

Clearly, the best way to combat this kind of subconscious stress is to get out and ride. Hard. To help fuel that training, I placed an order for Hammer Nutrition products, and I was excited to try out a couple new additions to my cycling fuel. In particular, I order Anti-Fatigue Caps and Endurance Aminos. I know what some of you are thinking. “Seriously? It’s a cult to Hammer Nutrition.” And I won’t deny it. But, I figured since I had such a good discount on their products as a 508 participant, that it would be worth some experimentation.

Yesterday, I did a 50-mile hill-repeat ride consisting of 2 loops over both sides of Shannon/Kennedy roads, culminating in a climb up Hicks Road, which is my nemesis. There’s nothing as steep as Hicks on The 508, so it’s a good measuring stick for me to climb it (and improve climbing it) as I get closer to the race.

There was some confusion about my training schedule, and I thought I was supposed to be out for 6 hours, but my coach sent me a 2-hour ride, so I ended up splitting the difference to ride 4. Of course, that’s what I ended up doing, not what I planned on, which would come back to bite me in the ass by the end of the day.

To start, I prepared a couple 1-hour bottles (2 scoops of HEED in each) as my primary fuel source. I grabbed three Hammer Gel packs and a tin full of Endurolytes. Prior to heading out, I took 2 each of the Endurance Aminos and the Anti-Fatigue Caps, then hit the road. It was lousy weather, with the temps never getting out of the 50’s. It was raining for a good portion of the ride, and there was enough wind to make it unpleasant. But, I figured I could handle it for 2 hours.

I got to the base of Shannon Road, and, as is always the case, I had to decide between going straight (Shannon road, which is shorter but steeper) or hanging a left (onto Kennedy, which has a couple short steep pitches, but is a longer climb) for the short climbs there. I opted to go straight, since I hadn’t done Shannon in awhile. It felt good to zip up to the top (“zip” being a relative term), and descend off the back side. Since I was only out for a couple hours, I originally intended to head on home, but I decided I could stand to climb a little more, so I turned around and went back up Shannon, which is a longer climb but not as steep. Up and over the top, and down the other side, when I decided to turn onto Kennedy and climb it, too. I felt good after descending the other side of Kennedy, so I turned around there, too, which is a couple miles to the top with a few steeper pitches, but a nice leveling out towards the top.

I don’t remember the last time I did a whole Shannon/Shannon/Kennedy/Kennedy circuit, but it felt good. And rather than heading home, I decided that it was a good idea to push it. It was cold. It was raining. And I, of all people, was pushing myself to climb. I shifted into progressively bigger gears, and completed the whole circuit a second time. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but it felt great to be riding aggressively on climbs.

The last time up Kennedy, I had a rabbit in front of me. He had made a snide remark at the bottom while I was off to the side of the road swapping out my water bottles. He said something about his not needing to stop when I asked him how he was doing. I just laughed it off and let him go up the road. I try to not get caught up in testosterone poisoning, but after giving him a really healthy head start (100 meters?), I quickly realized I was going to close on him. He kept looking over his shoulder and then digging in to go faster, but I was on his wheel in just a couple minutes. He said something about racing me to the top, so I simply stood up and cranked past him. The last thing I heard him say was “Jesus! I can’t do THAT!” It’s rare that I drop anyone, so I gave myself a few minutes to be proud of it before heading home.

Funny thing was, though, that rather than turning for home, I decided I’d give Hicks a shot. I hate this road. I’ve never been able to climb it. But, I was having a good day, so why not? Onto Hicks I went, and when the road tilted up, I immediately questioned my sanity. My legs were getting tired, and I was out of gels. Despite keeping up with my Endurolytes, I was nearly out of HEED, and I had been nursing it the entire time. Still, I decided I would get further up Hicks than is usual for me before allowing myself to even consider stopping. I had to serpentine my way up (sorry to the descending cyclist in the Rabobank kit who I genuinely scared to death), but I gained a lot more elevation before having to unclip. I’m not climber. I don’t pretend to be. Still, for me, it was a good day, and the hill repeats will help me in the long run.

On the way back down, I cramped pretty severely in both legs. I got a cramp right behind my right knee, which was a knew spot for me. On the left leg, I cramped on my inner thigh, which is a more common place for me to cramp. It was my own fault for not preparing and staying hydrated enough. Still, after a few minutes off the bike working out the cramps, I was able to get back in the saddle and pedal home. I was slower than I would have liked, but I was definitely thankful for that headwind!

All in all, a solid day on the bike. It wasn’t until afterward when I figured out that maybe the new Hammer products had a hand in my climbing better. I’ll have to keep experimenting there to see, but it was definitely an up-tick in my performance level yesterday. And I enjoyed being one of the few cyclists out on a cold, windy, rainy day in the hills. A hundred more rides like that one and I’ll start to feel confident about The 508. 🙂

Up next, the Davis Double Century this weekend.

Champing at the Bit

(First, a disclaimer: it really is “champing,” not “chomping.”) heh

I have my bike back, but it’s the last week of the semester, and I’m scratching and clawing for time to ride. This past week was, fortunately, a rest week for me, but I am getting super nervous about the lack of riding over the past couple of weeks. The Davis Double Century is coming up in 2 weeks, and I’m going to try to get out there and hammer through that one. I need to be on a bike for long, consecutive hours.

For now, though, I’m stuck in a grading spiral. I’m hoping that the next two days will be enough to get me over the hump. But I. Want. To. Ride.

OK. Enough procrastinating on my blog. Grading now so I can roll tomorrow (well… not literally tomorrow, but you know what I mean.)

Training. Training. Training.

“How is your training?”

Yesterday at the bike shop, a friend of mine (and 508 entrant) asked that simple question. My pat answer really doesn’t change: “Not nearly enough.”

No matter how much I ride, I feel like that answer always is accurate. I’m at the point now where I’m breaking down the intervening months and calculating the time remaining between now and the race. In this case, six months just isn’t nearly as long as it sounds. Last week was a rest week, which is tough for me. It just feels like I’m stagnating. This week, given the fact that I am juggling 4 jobs to make ends meet, I’m cramming my cycling in catch as catch can.

It feels rushed. It feels, in a word, inadequate.

But I trust my coach, and I trust his plan. I had a good ride Sunday, and Monday was… well, it’s weird. I don’t really remember it at all. How is that? Tuesday was a threshold training ride, which means up on the trainer inside giving my cardio a workout, and yesterday was a recovery ride. Today, I’m back on the bike for another threshold training session, and a simple recovery ride tomorrow. Then I’m into the weekend. I’ll have an endurance ride Saturday morning, and that will be good. I need to get out and stretch the legs.

Sunday is a longer ride, and I’m hopeful a couple friends of mine will be joining. I’m also taking a friend/bike mechanic out on the road with me to see if crewing is something he wants to do. I need a bike mechanic in the van. After that, it’s just a matter of finding a third person who can be a jack-of-all-trades to help drive/navigate/motivate/etc.

Monday is another long ride, so I’ll have to be up early to get on the road.

When the semester ends, I basically have 2 months to hit the training as hard as I can. Then I’m off for 6 weeks and my summer visit with my son. That period makes training tougher. And on the other side of that, I really only have 6 weeks to make sure I’m ready to go before the race. That’s nothing. It feels too soon. It feels too fast. It feels stressful. I’m starting to obsess again. I go to sleep thinking about rolling out of the start; meeting the crew vans; descending into Panamint; climbing Townes Pass; Death Valley at night; trying to maintain a pace Sunday; crossing the finish line. Sometimes I’m that confident. Sometimes, doubt derails one of those imaginings, and I start thinking about how things go wrong. I think about breaking down in Badwater and crying during an insane windstorm. What if I can’t make it? What if I DNF? What if the training isn’t enough?

I feel too big. I feel too slow. I feel too weak. I need to ride into much better shape. I need to get faster. I need to climb stronger. I need to have a different answer to that question: “How’s the training?”

Enough.

That’s the answer I want to give. I want to say enough. I want to say that my training is enough to know I’m going to be there and give it my all. I want to say it’s enough to silence the doubts and negative thinking. I want to say I’m on it; I’m doing it.

I’m not there yet.

508 Goals

I guess I should clarify that these my goals for this year’s Furnace Creek 508. While I have set a lot of goals, I don’t think there are more than 500 of them just yet. 🙂

There is a lot of redundancy in this list, so here’s my logic. Regardless of how well I’m doing, or how poorly, I want there to be goals I can achieve. In many cases, achieving 1 goal will actually take care of multiple ones in that stage.

This endurance race, for me, is all about finishing. I have 48 hours to finish the ride, so I’m focused primarily on that one overriding aspiration. Beyond that, everything else is gravy. Here, then, are my goals before and during the race, including individual stage goals. At the end of the list, you’ll see a breakdown of all the possible time goals and the speeds I’d have to average in order to achieve them.

Furnace Creek 508 Goals

Pre-Race Goals:

  1. Raise $2500 for race
  2. Get entry fee sponsorship (accomplished)
  3. Get hotel sponsorship (accomplished)
  4. Get rental van sponsorship
  5. Keep a record of all training rides
  6. Complete all training rides according to Emde’s schedule (in process)
  7. 165 pounds maintained
  8. <160 on race day.
  9. Find a bike mechanic for the crew (in process)
  10. Get new wheels for the bike
  11. Keep up with the blog (in process)

Overall Race Goals:

  1. Finish the race, no matter what
  2. Finish in the top 25 riders
  3. Finish in the top 15 riders
  4. Finish in the top 10 riders
  5. <45 minutes off the bike
  6. Stick to the race plan as decided by racer and coach
  7. Finish in under 43:49:45 (Team 2x Thrasher 2009 time)
  8. Finish under 45:21:31 (Thrasher solo time 2007 time)
  9. Finish in under 40 hours
  10. Finish in <35 hours
  11. Finish before midnight
  12. Finish in daylight
  13. Finish ahead of more than half 2x/4x teams
  14. Over the Trona Bump and into Panamint in daylight
  15. Get to the base of Townes Pass and start the climb in daylight
  16. Make it over Townes Pass between 7-8 p.m.
  17. Descend safely off of Townes Pass
  18. Don’t stop on the way up any of the climbs
  19. Don’t stop at the top of any of the climbs
  20. Enjoy the opportunity and ability to race

Stage 1 (Santa Clarita to California City) Goals:

  1. Show up at the start line
  2. Stay in the pack, toward the back, during the neutral start
  3. Keep the adrenaline in check at the official start up San Francisquito Canyon
  4. Start in the back and pass >15 riders prior to meeting crew van
  5. Don’t stop at crew van
  6. California City before noon
  7. Average between 18-20 mph for stage 1
  8. Don’t stop at the time station
  9. Be in the top 50 riders through California City
  10. Finish Stage 1 in <5 hours

Time Cut-offs:

2:45 p.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

2:00 p.m.  for midnight finish

12:45 p.m. for daylight finish

Stage 2 (California City to Trona) Goals:

  1. Arrive in Trona <4:00 p.m.
  2. Finish in <4 hours on the stage
  3. Be in the top 40 riders through Trona

Time Cut-offs:

9:30 p.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

7:15 p.m. for midnight finish

5:15 p.m. for daylight finish

Stage 3 (Trona to Furnace Creek) Goals:

  1. Get up and over the Trona Bump in daylight
  2. Be on the Panamint floor in daylight
  3. Get to the base of Townes Pass and start the climb in daylight
  4. Get to the top of Townes Pass <8:00 p.m.
  5. Climb Townes Pass without stopping
  6. <1 min stop at the top for clothing change (if necessary)
  7. Safely descend Townes Pass
  8. Get to Furnace Creek in <18 hours
  9. Finish the stage in <7 hours
  10. Reach Furnace Creek <Midnight
  11. Don’t stop at Furnace Creek

Time Cut-offs:

6:45 a.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

3:15 a.m. for midnight finish

11:45 p.m. for daylight finish

Stage 4 (Furnace Creek to Shoshone) Goals:

  1. Get to Shoshone by 4:30 a.m.
  2. Reach Shoshone by dawn
  3. Complete both southern climbs in dark
  4. No stopping on either climb
  5. Don’t stop in Badwater
  6. Finish stage in top 25
  7. Finish stage in <5.5 hours
  8. Stay on the bike (<5 minutes in stoppage time)

Time Cut-offs:

1:45 p.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

9:15 a.m. for midnight finish

4:45 a.m. for daylight

Stage 5 (Shoshone to Baker) Goals:

  1. Reach Baker by 7:00 a.m.
  2. Reach Baker by dawn
  3. NO RIDER STOP IN BAKER AT ALL
  4. No stopping on the KelBaker grade
  5. Stay on the bike (<under 5 minutes in stoppage time)

Time Cut-offs:

7:00 p.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

2:45 for midnight finish

8:30 a.m. for daylight

Stage 6 (Baker to Kelso) Goals:

  1. Be in Kelso <1 p.m. =15-hour double century pace
  2. Be in Kelso <noon
  3. Stay on the bike (<5 minutes in stoppage time)

Time Cut-offs:

11:00 p.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

5:30 p.m. for midnight finish

11:00 a.m. for daylight finish

Stage 7 (Kelso to Amboy) Goals:

  1. Be in Amboy <5:00 p.m.
  2. Stay on the bike (<5 minutes in stoppage time)

Time Cut-offs:

2:00 a.m. absolute cut-off time to finish

8:00 p.m. for midnight finish

1:00 p.m. for daylight finish

Stage 8 (Amboy to 29 Palms) Goals:

  1. Finish
  2. Finish the stage before Midnight
  3. Finish the stage in daylight

Pace Goals:

Finish: 10.65 mph average

Finish by midnight: 12.43 mph average

Finish in daylight: 15 mph average

Finish in top 25 (estimate based on 2010): 12.75 mph average

Top 10 (estimate based on 2010): 14.2 mph average

Rolled…

Man. I’d like a do-over, please. I’m wiped out.

Today was a group ride with a bunch of endurance cyclists, all 508-veterans. And I got rolled.

There’s not a nice way to put it. And I know I have a tendency to be self-deprecating, but this is not one of those times. The first 20 miles were solid, and I felt pretty good.

Then we started climbing. As soon as the road tilted up, my heart rate sky-rocketed. Simply put, I’m just not in shape. My legs are strong enough to make a 10-mile climb, but my cardio isn’t enough to pump those legs that far or that hard. About half a mile from the top of the first climb, I got dropped. And I got dropped on a section of road that was not that steep.

Insult to injury: cycling in Los Altos, where all the rich fuck-knuckles ride. I try hard to avoid the testosterone poisoning, but I wasn’t in the mood for roadside critiques from douchebags who have no idea what I am or am not capable of.

So, less-than-stellar day on the bike that ended with 30 long and lonely miles back to my car at the start. That, my friends, is demoralizing, and not what I expected of myself today.

After riding mostly on the trainer indoors, I wasn’t really expecting much of myself from my first “real ride of the year.” I’ve done some rides on my own. And I’m fine knocking out 80-100 miles at a moderate pace. But riding in a group is a different experience. And I also forgot my Endurolytes, which are my salvation, giving how prone to cramping I can be. I’m working to shake this one off. We all have bad days on the bike, after all. And March fitness isn’t October fitness. But I sure could have used a better day in the saddle today to help boost the old confidence. I’m not riding any double centuries this year, choosing, instead, to focus solely on The 508.

Back out on the road again tomorrow…