Bike to Work Day posters 2014

My Los Medanos College graphic design students created posters for 2014 Bike to Work day. Here's a slide show of a few. And don't forget to ride your bike!

Devil Mountain Double 2014 FAIL

Rick@OCRR climbs Diablo as the moon watches

The bottom line is that I failed to finish the 2014 edition of the Devil Mountain Double Century. The rest is details, stories and analysis. Read no further if you are hoping for an uplifting tale of triumph over pain and despair.

I was so very ready for this. I'd trained, I'd done intervals, I'd had a fine Solvang Double just a few weeks before. Just two weeks prior I'd hit personal bests on several local climbs. I had my lights set up, my bike in good shape. I had a plan. I'd finished this ride in 2012, and I knew it was hard, but the weather promised to not be hot and I was sure I was good to go.

The day started well. I left with Rick@OCRR and Ron (Spingineer) and sort of rode near them. Despite temperature readings in the low 40s on wunderground.com, the day didn't feel bad. I warmed right up on the first short hill. Though it was only 37 at the top of Mt. Diablo, climbing actually felt pretty good and the cool air didn't feel uncomfortable at all.  In the morning darkness we heard the wild turkeys calling from the valley below and watched the sunrise as the sky gained color and eventually washed out the beautiful crescent moon. The low lands below us were filled with white fog that glowed and burned away in dawn's light.

Sunrise on the mountain almost made it all worthwhile.

We regrouped at the summit to head down, Rick and I ahead of Ron who I knew would catch us. The painful cold and my stiff descending was a taste of what would become my theme for the day. Tricia had purchased a set of thin waterproof, windproof painters glove for me to put on over my glove liners to keep the wind off my hands. I'm sure they helped, but my hands were still very cold. But what was worse, and what ultimately did me in, is what appears to be a compressed nerve in my back. Though it sometimes bothers me just living life, it hasn't been awful. When I'm riding on the brake hoods I'm fine. But for some annoying reason, when I go to the drops the pain in my left arm, back and neck becomes intense. I've been able to tough it out, but on the long cold ride from the summit to the North Gate it was so painful that, combined with the cold, it made my descending slower and less smooth than the situation required.

Ron nearing the Diablo Summit

It took me to Clayton for my hands and fingers to regain feeling. But the ten-mile climb up Morgan Territory Road felt pretty good. I was being careful not to burn any matches but I still felt like I was moving well.

There is one corner I think of as the "Just &^% me" corner. It's very steep, and in the past just not falling over on it has been a challenge. This time I just rolled through it, no big deal. All that training had paid off. I was feeling pretty swell about myself until I actually got to the "Just &^% me" corner and realized I'd only thought a previous turn was that special turn. Yep, it's still steep.

Again we managed to regroup at the rest stop just after the Morgan Territory summit. We hit "The Plunge" carefully and it was still fast. I've never come down that and not thought I was going to get hurt at some point. From there we headed toward Altamont Pass, home of a famous concert, at warp speed. I'd forgotten this slightly downhill section, and with the kick-ass tail wind it was a delight. The last delight of the day.

Patterson Pass is often windy. That may well be the reason it's covered with windmill farms. Today it was beyond windy. It's a grunt anyway, and with the head wind I averaged about 5 mph to the top, where my only goal in the last 100 yards was to maintain forward motion and not let the wind knock me over. Apparently this wind was impressive even for this often windy area.

This is the sun. I saw so little of it I had to photograph it.

There is a critical cutoff at the Mines Road rest stop. If you don't leave there by 1:30 you are done, off the course, finished. Even with the wind, I made the cutoff and headed up Mines Road. It's not all that steep, but it's a long uphill ride. I stopped to adjust my clothing — I still had on tons, and all I took off was my headgear — and carried on solo. Rick was up the road, and Ron far behind. I stuck my one-ear earbud in, set my phone on airplane mode so it wouldn't use much juice, and listened to an audiobook of my guilty pleasure: Joe Abercrombie's Best Served Cold. (Think Game of Thrones, but bloodier and less upbeat.)

I've been seeing this father daughter tandem team on rides since she was just a little kid.

I made lunch, and the second time cut off, very much on schedule and feeling OK. I  saw Rick briefly , who left just before me. After the Mines Road Junction rest stop/lunch is the prettiest section of the ride, San Antonio Valley Road. It's perfect California, at least until the climbs start. These climbs are rarely mentioned in stories of the DMD, but they are real, sneaky and a pain. Eventually they drop down to a rest stop staffed by my ever-so-cool and wonderful neighbors Thom and Veronica.

 I had a quick bite then started the long, long, long five miles to the top of Hamilton. Though I was climbing and wearing a good amount of clothes, I was often slightly cold. Those five miles take forever, but I eventually arrived at the summit, cold and in the wind. I put on another jacket and made a few adjustments. It's amazing how long it takes to do anything when you are cold, tired, and your pockets are hiding on your back under two jackets and a vest. But, at last I thought, a bit of a break on the upcoming downhill.

San Antonio Valley Road, my last happy moment. 

This is where it all went sideways for me. Coming down wasn't fun. I shivered, and that darn nerve made it impossible to get into the drops. I had to ride the top bar, and even that hurt. Any time I started to get any speed I'd get so cold I'd start to get some oscillation on the bike due to shivering and having my arm and neck hurt. It was a long, slow, painful descent.

There are two annoying uphill sections on the Hamilton decent everyone hates. I loved them. I could get warm, and my arm wouldn't hurt. My power meter said I was still putting out the wattage I needed, and I felt pretty good. Then I'd get the hellish downhills again.

I arrived at the next rest stop very, very cold.  The wonderful volunteers brought me a bowl of hot soup that went down well and made me feel just a bit less cold. It was dark now, and I was behind where I expected to be by quite a bit. I had the über-Sierra Road coming up, but what worried me was the long downhill to Calaveras Road afterwards.  Between feeling wobbly, having that darn nerve thing happening, and being frozen I called it a day, and reported that rider #35 would take a DNF and was looking for a ride back.

Ron rolled in while I was deciding my fate. As I sat in the SAG van with the heater on trying to get warm, I saw him roll out. Ron made it 9 miles farther, and sagged in from Sierra Road. I don't know how Rick@OCRR made out (*see end note), but will append this report when I hear. As always, the Quack cyclists support was top notch. They took good care of me and drove me back. When I joked that I thought I should skip the dinner and slink off to my room in embarrassment, they insisted that not only should I have some lasagna, but that my sweet bride was invited to join in as well.

I know bailing out was the smart thing to do. I keep telling myself that as embarrassing as this is, riding off the road or getting injured would be more so. I know that 150 miles and 15,000 feet of climbing isn't bad, but it still looks and tastes like fail when I'd started out to do 200 and finish. This is my first DNF. I've done DMD before, as well as Davis, Knoxville, Hemet and Solvang. This hurts.

This also puts an end to my attempt to get a third Triple Crown this year.

My new goal, significantly more modest, is to make a doctor's appointment and see if anything can be done with this nerve thing.

If there is any positive news in all this, it's that sweet Tricia met me at the end with a hug and still let me drink that beer she's bought to celebrate my return. I guess I did return, just in a van and not by bike.

Curtis offers the international "Loser" sign. Ron wishes that you live long and prosper

Damage report:
Arms and neck pretty worn and sore, Legs OK, about what'd I'd expect. Buns and feet, just fine. The bike is perfect.
Lost items: One headwarmer/Buff, along with all personal pride.

*ENDNOTE
Rick@OCRR (aka Rick Burneson) managed to finish! He took 22 hours, finishing at 3am. A huge tip of the cap to him.

JUST IN: I finished this ride, but two weeks late, read my followup here

Easter on Mt. Diablo

If you've seen this blog before, you probably realized that, even though I write some ride reports and rants, it's really just an excuse to post photos. Mostly of Tricia. So, even though our Easter ride to the Diablo summit was as un-epic as could be, complete with stops for wildflower oogling and not one big sprint, we had fun, and I shot photos.



Of course, I'm not the only one of us who shoots photos, I'm just the one that is willing to waste time posting them here.



But usually, I'm the photographer, even when I'm just making photos of what Tricia tells me to, as in "Look, those turkeys have their own trail. You should make a photo."



But most of the time the photos are ones I want to make, even though they sometimes involve yelling "No, don't stop, keep going, I'll catch you."



It was a beautiful day on Diablo, and we weren't alone in enjoying it. There were many more cyclists than cars (yea!) and this guy. I have no idea how he got up there, but he seemed as happy to be where he was as we were to be riding our bikes on the mountain.

Tour de Trash, Antioch edition

Canada Valley Road, Antioch

I've posted about glass and boats in the bike lanes and about discarded baby baskets. But today it's just about regular garbage.

Hidden Glen Drive

In our short Antioch Tour de Trash™ ride we saw so much illegal, immoral and annoying dumping it was amazing. We've heard it's independent trash haulers who, to avoid fees, just dump their clients crap any old place. Maybe that's true, but I'll bet there are just a bunch of losers who are doing it too. I wish our city would actively investigate these dumpings. They could at least look for names and addresses in the trash, and follow up. But maybe that's asking too much from our overworked city services, what with three shooting deaths this past month.

From couches to TVs, people dump the trashiest trash. There were even large plants dropped in the middle of the road at a dead end.

No, it is not growing here.

You know these people are sick, sick, sick. Really, who but someone seriously mentally troubled would dump a Harold and Kumar DVD? That's like vandalizing a library book.

Harold and Kumar land in Antioch

We only saw a few shopping carts, but next time perhaps we'll undertake an Antioch Shopping Cart Search ride and see what we can discover.

...and into the fire

After Sunday's ride through the Berkeley Hills (details) where I hit several personal bests on climbs I was all excited. So I came home, filled out a form, wrote  a check, and sent off my application. Here's hoping it goes well...

The only thing I know for sure is which jersey I'll wear. This one.

Bike East Bay's Berkeley Hills ride

Deb Janes of Bike East Bay kept everyone together . No one got lost or died.

Bike East Bay (formerly known as East Bay Bike Coalition, which I love as it always took me several tries to spell "Coalition.") hosted a ride for people planning on participating in the Climate Ride but were kind enough to invite the rest of the world as well. Tricia and I joined them. At 44 miles with 4400 feet of climbing it goes in the books as a climbing ride.

Tricia on Pig Farm Hill

I'm used to a ride that starts at 9:00 pretty much leaving at 8:59. This one took about 40 minutes to get organized, what with route explanations, late arrivals, and Bike East Bay and Climate Ride explanations. But eventually we hit the road, and almost immediately turned up the roughest road I've been on in ages. Paris-Roubaix is today, so I didn't dare even note the road surface out loud, but it was impressively bad. Apparently it's on schedule to be repaved this year. That was the last bit of sketchy road all day.

And  what a beautiful day it was! And how often can you meet a group of strangers and go off on a delightful adventure where everyone is so nice? No one got dropped, and there were frequent regroups. Even the weather cooperated. It was pleasingly warm but never got hot.  I was happy to see the sections of road I put some effort into resulted in a few personal bests. I made my best time up Pig Farm, a hill I regularly try to hammer as hard as I can. I hope this predicts some successful cycling on my upcoming rides.

We parked in Orinda and took BART to Rockridge to start.

Los Vaqueros Dam Time Trial 2014

 The race didn't feel like it was about bike riding as much as it was about whether the rain would come before the race started. It was supposed to rain Friday night, and when it didn't, I decided the Los Vaqueros Dam Time Trial 2014 was going to happen for me, even though the skies were dark dark dark. Still it was hard to leave my warm and comfortable home to head out with only a vague hope of a rainless ride. But it worked out! The rain held off until I got home.

 I rode this event in 2008 and 2009, but they cancelled it when they were busy raising the dam height. It came back, but I was scheduled elsewhere. This time I got a another chance. The course got slightly longer, with a short straight away sprint ending at the top of the new dam. The area is usually closed, so not only is the race fun, but the chance to see see the views from the dam are a rare and delightful opportunity.
 

This time trial is a real community event. They try to schedule the riders so the competitors with young kids go early, then have a chance to ride back to the start and escort their munchkins up the hill. Despite it being a "mere" community event, they have chips embedded in the race numbers, and electronic RFID timing equipment. It's all very cool.

There's a soft sticker inside the number that is read by a mat we rolled over at the start, and again at the end. They had a computer set up so we could see our times and current place as soon as we hit the finish line. I was 10th overall for just a moment before the actual fast riders finished.


I didn't want to pretend I was all serious about this as I know I'm not really a racer and surely am not a contender, but when I showed up and saw the aero wheels, time trial bikes and alien helmets, I was a little overwhelmed. I teased some riders about seriousness violations, but then I thought, heck, I should at least take off my water bottle and pump. I guess that makes me almost as bad. Fortunately über-mechanic Jim McFarland of the Wheel Peddler was on hand with tools, and off it came, thereby saving me .21 seconds I'm sure.
 

This year the race went not only on it's usual uphill route, but into a huge headwind as well. What a pain. My heart rate was off the charts the whole time. (OK, not really. I have charts, so technically it isn't off of them. It was, however, at the highest end.) As always I hurt so much at the end, but still think I could have gone harder, though I don't really know how. I managed, if I remember correctly, 14:10. The Strava segment says 14:05 and an average of 222 watts, which, though low power  in the cycling world, is more than I thought I could do. I don't know how I placed overall, but I did manage to pull off third place in my age group. (Yes, there were more than three people in my group. I checked to be sure.) I even got a medal.
 
 Thanks, Contra Costa Water District, for a cool event!

Solvang Double Century 2014

Ron managed to get a photo of me.

No giant head wind. That's the big news from this year's Solvang Double Century, and the big difference between the 2014 version and the 2012 version that almost did me in. This year I made no wrong turns, rolled along pretty well, and have no great stories. I guess a good ride makes for a dull tale.

I roomed with Ron Ng at the Santa Ynez Valley Marriott in Buellton, the ride start, right next to Solvang. We got the room late, and all they had was a giant, cushy two-room suit. We toughed out. It was nice to be able to take the elevator to the ride start. That made the morning a lot easier than having to drive there from a different hotel.



I was a little worried. I thought I planned my clothing well, but the night before was windy and cold. Ron's friend suggested that though it would be forty-ish at the ride start, it could be in the 30s after we crossed into the next valley. I'd left my long-fingered gloves at home, and was thinking I'd need to wrap socks around my glove liners just to survive. But the morning was almost 50, and there was zero wind. The next valley was misty, but didn't get below the mid-forties. I wore a base layer, jersey, cheap-o sweatshirt I could leave behind, and a very light wind jacket. With my glove liners and knee warmers I was very comfortable. What a relief.



A 5 am doubles start is always interesting what with so many riders that have amazing lights and blinkies. I wonder what it would like from the air. We certainly must be hard to miss on the ground, with all the high-tech ultra-bright headlights that almost all riders seem to sport. Having so many riders with so many lights makes it easier to see the road too.



I always enjoy seeing the sky become lighter and lighter as the sun gets closer to rising. This year was very overcast, and there was a mist in the air that made the ride up the Foxen Canyon seem very mysterious and other worldly.



I rode well, but easily. I didn't want to go too hard at the start. I also kept to my plan of very, very short rest stops. I filled my bottle and jetted off. I didn't even sit down at all until the last rest stop. Sometimes, however, I get a bit slow even for me. At one point, as a tandem came quickly past, the stocker shouted "grab on" so I did. I went from 13 to 21mph in no time. I stayed with them for 10 miles until the next town where the organization fell apart. Still, it was an exhilarating 10 miles. I swore I'd remember their names, but my brain gets mushy on a ride this long. At least I got a photo. Thanks tandem folks!



Sometime in the first 100 miles when I stopped on a back road for a "natural" I glanced down and saw what I could only think of as a dire warning to cyclists. This demon was right there, ready to suck my soul right out my... Well, never mind. I moved on as quickly as I could.



This ride, despite the fish head demon, is pretty darn beautiful. The canyons are a delight, and rolling through Pismo Beach...  let's just say it was hard to keep going and leave the ocean behind.



I'd been on a mission, with a goal of finishing before the sun dropped behind the horizon, but with less than 10 miles to go I had to just stop and make this photo. Is that not the perfect name for a winery? I wonder if they do discounts.

I managed to finish just before 7 pm (in the daylight!) with a total time of 13:55:47 and a moving time of 13:06:08, which means I didn't spend much time not riding.

The only thing close to drama was after I finished, showered and changed, Ron still hadn't arrived, which worried me as he is usually slightly stronger than I am. I had dinner, and he still hadn't come in. I was worried enough that I checked with the organizers to see if there had been any on-road "issues" and was told everyone was on target to finish. I still was concerned. Ron eventually rolled in looking great. It seems he'd hooked up with friends who had a series of flats. He stayed with them to help out, and all was fine.

Ohhhh. Shiny! It's a Wipperman

Seriously, is there much that's prettier than a new chain on a new cassette? This one is a Wipperman 10sx. I bought one at the North American Hand Built Bicycle Show in Sacramento a while ago. It shifted well, and went on easily using their Connex link. But best of all the darn thing just lasted and lasted. I could still squeeze out a few miles, but I'm putting this one on in honor of the upcoming Solvang Double. I've had an Ultegra cassette waiting to be mounted for a long time, and this seemed like a good day for that too.

Wippernan claims their chains last a long time because of the "stainless steel inner links and nickel-plated outer link plates." I don't know if that's marketing or science, but the last one sure did better than any other chains I've had.

Del Puerto Canyon greens and blues of happiness and joy century

Lance Oldstrong

I'd just gotten home from riding Mt. Diablo when I got a text from Lance Oldstrong asking if I wanted to join him for a 100 miler the next day. I have a double century coming up and could use a test-run, so I said "sure." Little did I know…

Middle of nowhere middle school

I met him at his house and from there we picked up Steve and Glenn, then headed toward Patterson, where I thought the ride would start. But no, we got off the freeway and headed East. I thought perhaps we were stopping in downtown Patterson, but no. At this point, as we traveled through farmlands, farther and farther from Del Puerto Canyon, Steve and I started whining and moaning like old men who didn't get their Jello. But still, we kept driving and driving. No level of insult from Steve could sway Oldstrong from heading to his desired parking place — some locked-up school at a crossroads of nowhere and nowhere by a very aromatic cattle feed lot and a sad-looking Crows Landing This Way sign. When we eventually got there, and finished a long discussion on the probability of the van still being there when we got back, we readied our bikes and launched toward Del Puerto Canyon, realizing it was now 12 miles away, and we'd also have those same 12 miles added on the way back.

The Steve

Glenn, not moving

The ride up the canyon was stunning, and perhaps worth the 12 flat miles we rode to get there. California, drought though there may be, is green right now. The hills glowed, and the rolling climb was a delight. At least it was until we hit the steep part in the heat of the day. My exaggerating Garmin reported over 100 degrees. I'm sure it was only 80, but as it was the first warm day of the season is felt really hot. I managed to hang with Glenn a while — he was taking it easy to chat with me — but most of the day he was off the front or I was working too hard to photograph him. Hence the lack of action-Glenn photos.

After the Junction at Mines Road we headed toward Mt. Hamilton, but got smarter and decided not to ride to the summit. When we got back to the junction there were three bright red cars there. We chatted with the owners a while and were amused at the fuss they made over our bikes. I asked if they minded if I leaned my bike on their cars and they said it looked like a nice bike and I wouldn't want to risk scratching it. They were amazed with our bikes' lightness, the materials, the skinny tires, and most of all Oldstrong's electronic shifting. We, of course, were reasonably impressed with their toys as well.

From there we headed down, and then back uphill to the gated community of Diablo Grande. The guards at the gatehouse had mercy on us when I explained we needed 1.5 miles more before we turned around so we could hit 100 for the day. They told us the traffic circle was about that far up the hill, and said we were good to go. We even did a few laps round the round-about just be be sure.



The ride back was uneventful in a wonderful sort of way. I even had time to pop off a photo  of myself. But perhaps the best part of the day was the light that made the California landscape smile with springtime wonderfulness. Every way I turned I witnessed the greens and blues of happiness and joy.

We finished strong, ate some Patterson BBQ and got home entirely too late. A good time was had by all.

I love the California spring.

Bonus photo of the fearless, or bored, vole that sat munching grass as we stepped all around it as we loading up the van for the drive home.

Delta Pedalers Old Farts' Ride

Tricia and I have been members of the Delta Pedlaers Cycling Club for ages, but we seldom get to ride with them. We like to support their advocacy efforts, but our schedules rarely align. Today was different. We joined Dave and Dick, along with other club members, for their birthday ride (they call The Old Fartt' Ride) up Mt. Diablo. Not only was it a wonderful day, but I got to ride with people who are older than me for a change.

The day didn't start nearly as well as it ended up. When Tricia (who, for the record, rode with, but is not herself an old fart) and I arrived at the ride start I realized that, even though I had gotten up early, prepared carefully and even had a few spare minutes to sweep the garage before we left I had failed to put my cycling shoes in the car. I was ready to bag the whole day, but imperturbable Tricia took charge and drove us home and then back.

Once we got rolling the day was amazing. Warm weather, clear skies and California poppies – what's not to love.

We figured we'd missed the group, but as we neared the summit there they were coming down. They waited for us at the junction and we descended the mountain, ending up at Rocco's Italian restaurant for beers and lunch. Just another wonderful Saturday.

Bicycle icons and loopy routes

I blame Lance Oldstrong, my riding buddy. While he is the best ever at finding interesting routes — see "Two bridges, three murder sites, squirrels and flowers ride" — he's also the best at riding really odd routes. One a rainy day he rode many many miles in a BART parking garage. Recently he rode 10.2 miles around his very small neighborhood, ducking into every little court over and over. Really. There's a GPS trace to prove it.

This had several unforeseen consequences,  the first of which was that I had to try it too. Unfortunately for me, though Oldstrong's ride is flat flat flat. (He clocked in a whooping 135 foot elevation gain) my silly neighborhood has a different terrain profile. My 11.4 mile ride (titled Oldstrong Inspired™ on Strava) had 1,175 feet of climbing. My ride resulted in a near equally wacky GPS trace.

But a much more wacky elevation profile.

All this silly mapping and looping and the images from GPS tracing got me thinking about the images they make, and then about icons in general. I don't know why, it just did. Then I recalled the "Artist formerly know as Prince" had his own icon designed.

And that lead me to thinking Oldstrong needed his own icon. So I made one based on his "brilliant" ride.

So there it is. The new icon/symbol for the cyclist formerly known as Oldstrong. Should it be cast from bronze, or perhaps titanium, or maybe cut from genuine carbon fiber as a necklace, or stenciled on the road of large climbs he undertakes? Maybe it's a tattoo, or tee-shirt. Or maybe it should be a brand. Whatever it ends up being, it's all his fault. Really.