Category Archives: Cycling

I haven’t posted about cycling here in ages, but I’m still out there riding, off and on. Of course, it’s much trickier to ride now that there is a toddler in the house. Hobgoblin and I go on rides together MUCH less often than we used to. And it’s also tricky to ride when you’re getting ready to move, and then moving, and then recovering from the move, as we did last spring and early summer. I didn’t ride at all from last October until this April, and then I didn’t ride regularly until June. But in the last couple months I’ve ridden at least twice each week and in the last few weeks I’ve ridden four times a week. I’m nearing 1,000 miles for the year, which is pitiful given that my best year was nearly 6,400 miles. But still. Riding is as important to me as ever, even if I don’t do it as much; I always feel better when I’ve ridden and I love getting in shape. The few moments when I feel strong out on the road are wonderful.

About racing, though … I don’t miss racing at all, and I’m not sure if I’ll do it again next year or in whatever year I feel I’m finally in good enough shape. If I don’t like it, I shouldn’t do it, right? Yes, but. It provides great motivation and a goal to work toward, it makes me really, really strong, and my friends do it and pressure me into doing it. I can be hopeless when it comes to certain kinds of peer pressure.

But that’s not a worry for now, as I’m far, far from racing shape. Now I am just happy to be out there riding, watching the seasons change.

We had a beautiful weekend here in Connecticut, sunny with temperatures in the 60s and low 70s, and I was fortunate to be able to ride Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Sadly, my riding is not up to the level it was last year, and it’s not likely ever to reach that level this year, given the various interruptions I’m facing. (Although some of the interruptions are good ones — only 1 1/2 weeks until Ireland!) But still, I’m enjoying myself. I ride some on my own but often with friends, and I’ve found that riding a bike is a great context in which to have a conversation. It gives me at least an hour to talk, although often much longer, and it’s a low pressure situation: it’s not awkward if you’re not talking the entire time, because you’re busy doing something else: riding. You are free to be quiet and ride if you want. Or you can talk the entire time, and the interruptions — getting out of the way of traffic, letting a loud truck go by — don’t matter much. In fact, they offer time to think about the conversation and plan what to say next. The interruptions also make it easy to bring up a new topic without awkwardness. Conversations are also much more fun when you are pumped full of adrenaline. Everyone is wittier and laughter comes much more quickly when you’ve been working hard and are feeling both pleasantly tired and full of energy.

Yesterday’s group ride was an odd one, though. It was 60 very hilly miles, and I rode with four other people, including Hobgoblin. About halfway through, I was riding with a friend about a quarter mile ahead of the others, and we passed three horses and two riders coming from the other direction. I didn’t think much of it — we were in horse farm country. A couple minutes later, though, I heard a clopping noise behind me. My first thought was that someone’s bike was making some very strange noises, but then I realized that it was a horse. My second thought was that it was strange for a rider to be galloping down the left side of the road, into oncoming traffic and uncomfortably close to me. Then the horse passed me, at top speed, and I realized it had no rider. And then another horse galloped past me, also at top speed, also with no rider. My friend started to panic, and we pulled over to the side of the road as she told me horror stories about friends getting kicked by horses. We looked back, and fortunately there were no more horses galloping at us. We waited for the other riders to catch up, but they didn’t appear. Finally a woman on a horse — thankfully fully under her control — came along and told us there had been a bad accident. She rode on without giving us any more information than that.

This time I panicked along with my friend. I have heard way too often about bad accidents and cyclists, and, unfortunately, Hobgoblin tends to be accident prone. If anyone is going to have a run-in with a horse while riding a bike, it quite possibly could be him. I was having visions of horse/cyclist run-ins, ambulances, concussions, broken bones, everything you can imagine. We headed back down the road trying to keep calm, and you can understand my relief when I saw the entire group all upright, everyone’s bike in working order. It turns out the horses had gotten spooked by the cyclists behind me. One of them had thrown its rider, and it and one of the other horses took off down the road. Everyone watched as they galloped toward my friend and I, yelling at us to get out of the way, but we couldn’t hear anything. Fortunately, the horses weren’t interested in knocking us down. Unfortunately, the woman thrown from her horse was hit hard enough to crack her helmet, although she didn’t want help and seemed to be okay.

We felt concerned for the woman who had taken the fall, but the situation felt so bizarre we rode the rest of the way home laughing. I kept saying I know this is horse country, but I never expected to be chased by them! It’s really kind of funny the way strange things happen to you when you spend hours out on your bike. There’s no way of knowing what any ride will bring. I have learned, though, to steer well clear of horses out on the road, no matter how calm they seem.

This year has been all over the place as far as riding is concerned. I rode steadily for the first few weeks of the year, and then really awful weather hit, and I stopped riding entirely for almost four weeks. Then I started, then I stopped, and now I’ve started again. And today was my first race! No, I was not really prepared for it. I’m in the worst shape for March that I’ve been in in a long time. But the race went okay anyway. It was 20 laps long, and the pack stayed together most of the way. I stayed with the rest of the riders until lap 18, and then I dropped back a bit climbing the short hill on the course, and I couldn’t catch back on. I finished, but I did the last two laps on my own.

I know I could have done better if I had ridden smarter. Bike racing is just as much about tactics and positioning as it is about fitness, and I’m not good at all at tactics and positioning. So when my fitness is just so-so, I’m kind of screwed. I spent most of the race at or near the back of the pack, which puts me in danger of getting dropped, especially on the hill, where lack of fitness really shows. If I had been closer to the front of the pack, slowing down on the hill wouldn’t have mattered as much because I would still have been with the rest of the riders and wouldn’t have had to catch up. It’s having to catch up that’s a problem.

The thing is, I dislike racing enough that I’m not motivated to work on tactics and positioning. I had three teammates to ride with today, and one other woman who is sort of an honorary teammate, plus a bunch of other women from other teams that I am acquaintances with, and all that is fun. The social aspect is the real reason to race, I think — that, along with gaining fitness. I don’t do it because I’m driven to win. So … I stay at the back of the pack. Whatever.

I am excited about getting strong again, though. The real, real reason to race is to get strong so that I can do fast group rides. For me, that’s where the fun lies: riding the cupcake loop, the Lake Waramaug loop, the ridiculous 150-mile Massachusetts loop, and doing these rides with friends. There’s little that’s more fun than riding fast with a bunch of friends, full of adrenaline, laughing and joking, enjoying the Connecticut countryside. I’m hoping for a lot of rides like that this year.

Here’s a picture of my teammates and I at the start line shortly before the race started. I’m second from the right.

Things have been fairly quiet on the bike lately; after my epic 150-mile ride on Labor Day, I’ve slowed the pace of my riding a bit. I’ve done a few long rides since then, including a 72-mile ride and an 85-mile ride, but I haven’t ridden as often, averaging probably 2 rides a week for the last month. I like to have a stretch of at least a few weeks where I don’t ride at all, or ride minimally, in order to give my mind and body a chance to rest. I don’t want to get burnt out. Ideally, by the end of this period, I’ll be longing to start riding more once again.

So I’m thinking the next couple weeks will work well for a rest, and the timing is right because I had a great opportunity to do a challenging end-of-season ride last weekend to wrap the year up. (I’m not talking about wrapping things up for 2010 — I’ll be riding seriously again in November and December — I just mean wrapping up the racing/heavy-duty riding season.) On Saturday, Hobgoblin and I attended a charity ride organized by my friend and fellow-blogger, Debby from She Knits by the Seashore, and her husband Chris, from The Suitcase of Courage. They organized it to benefit Forgotten Felines, an animal shelter for cats and kittens, where Debby volunteers. Debby came up with the idea a year ago or so, and I’ve spent the last year in awe of her as she has gone about planning everything in a supremely organized and careful way. Let’s just say that event planning is NOT one of my strengths, so I admire those who take it on and succeed.

And everything worked out wonderfully. The turnout was twice what everyone expected, the weather was gorgeous (it was a beautiful weekend sandwiched between horrible rain storms), and all the riders were happy. Hobgoblin and I showed up a little on the late side so we could ride with Chris and another cycling friend, Aki, from Sprinter della Casa, and after waiting a bit for them to return from making sure the road signs clearly marked the route, we set off on the 50-mile loop. We were under a bit of time pressure, since we wanted to return in time to hear the band that was playing for lunch, so we set off at a brisk pace.

It was the time pressure that made us go fast, but also the fact that Hobgoblin had fresh legs and wanted to ride hard. So, as we rode along the beautiful Connecticut coastline, the three of us worked hard to stay on Hobgoblin’s wheel. I had to remind myself to look around so I wouldn’t miss the view, because otherwise, I would have spent the time staring in dismay at my heart rate monitor, which was telling me I’d better slow down if I wanted to keep riding for another couple hours. Eventually our pace moderated a little, but only a little — once you set out at a fast pace, it’s hard to pull back and slow down. And I didn’t want to slow down because I was having so much fun riding with three people who know what they are doing on a bike — how to ride in a pace line, how to ride hard while staying safe, how to communicate and keep the group together. We sprinted for town line signs, a tradition whose source I don’t know, but one we follow regularly on all our long rides. The trick for someone like me, who can’t out-sprint three male bike racers, is to catch the rest of the group by surprise by being the first to spot a sign, so I spent the ride surreptitiously looking ahead for the green signs marking a new town. I managed to take a couple of the sprints that way. Most of the ride I was right on the edge of what I’m capable of — working very hard on the short hills, recovering on the downhills, and spending as much time as I could drafting on the flats, to keep my heart rate down. By the last hour, my legs started to ache, and at the end of the ride the ache was pretty pronounced. I was ready to get off the bike, but it’s immensely satisfying to get off the bike having pushed just about as hard as I can.

It’s also satisfying to hold my own with the guys, riders who can trounce me in a bike race but with whom I’m a little more evenly-matched on a longer ride in a more relaxed setting. I hate being the slow-poke woman, the one all the guys have to wait up for (even though I don’t mind at all waiting up for other people), and nobody had to wait up for me this time.

So now it’s a couple weeks of rest, and then I start up again, gearing up for winter riding and spring races (unless, of course, I retire from bike racing, which is always a possibility!).

Hobgoblin has decided lately that he wants to ride super-long rides, as in really extra, super-duper long rides, as in training for races that are over 500 miles long. I don’t plan to be a part of any of this, but I’m up for some more reasonable distance challenges. So when Hobgoblin proposed that we get a group together to ride 150 miles on Labor Day, I agreed, albeit nervously. I rode 130 miles once, maybe seven years ago. I was in bad pain and crying by the end of that ride. In the years following, I’ve ridden 100 miles many times, usually a time or two each year, although this year I’d upped that to three times, with quite a few rides in the 70-90 range. I’m now at nearly 5,000 miles on the year. But still, 150 miles was something new.

So we got a group together and set out yesterday morning at 7:00. We left with eight people, although some were planning on cutting the ride short and doing 80-90 miles. We set out north, through the small city I live near and up into the countryside. I love riding north because the landscape there is beautiful in a way that’s different from the beauty of my area. I love the way that my area is densely wooded with little hills tightly packed together, so you feel hidden away, covered by the branches and leaves that form a canopy over the narrow roads. The landscape up north is much more open, with more farms and fields, so you can get a view of neighboring hills and low-lying mountains.

As we rode north we stopped at little villages to buy baked good, candy bars, and Gatorade to fuel us on our way. Eventually three of our group split off leaving us with five to head even further north, up into Massachusetts, to climb one of the nastiest hills you’ll ever meet. It’s one of those hills that just keeps going; you think you’ve reached the top, you go around a corner, and there is more hill waiting for you. This happens again and again. But we made it to the top and had a lovely downhill stretch to ride, and then we were heading back south again, back into Connecticut. We stopped four times total, at around mile 35, 68, 93, and 117.

And we made it back home again, after 8 hours and 14 minutes. I couldn’t believe how easy it felt — relatively speaking, of course, relative to how it could have felt. My legs started to protest during the last five miles, but I think that was at least partly psychological, as my legs knew they had a break coming very soon. My upper back and neck were sore, but the breaks we took helped; I took the opportunity to stretch and move as much as possible, and that made the pain go away, at least for a while.

It was a fast ride for me — just a touch under 18 mph. There is no way I could ride that fast on my own, but with some friends to draft on and to motivate me (and with good long sections of flat road), it was possible.

So today I’m not moving much. My legs aren’t sore, though, just tired. I don’t have plans to do the ride again right now, although I think it’s likely I’ll get talked into it before too long.

Much of the story of my cycling year so far I can tell using just a few numbers:

• Total yearly mileage 2007 (the first year I have a full record): 4,226
• Total yearly mileage 2008: 4,339
• Total yearly mileage 2009: 5,097
• Total mileage so far in 2010 (as of August 17th): 4,393

So yeah, I’ve been riding a lot this year. I’m on track to crush last year’s record, and I’ve already beaten my records from the previous two years.

This was the year I was going to forget about mileage goals and just ride as much as I wanted to. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. But instead of riding less than last year, I’ve ridden much more. I’m still not riding with any kind of mileage goal in mind (or any goal at all, of whatever sort), but it turns out that when I decide to ride just as much as I want to and no more, I end up riding a ton.

It doesn’t hurt that I’m spending much of my training time riding with my cycling BFF, who completed one Ironman triathlon in July and is doing another one in October. That means a lot of miles. A lot. I suppose if I have one goal this year, it’s to keep enough fitness so that I can keep up with her. These days that means I’m working pretty hard, but it’s so much fun, it’s exactly what I want to do.

As for races, I haven’t done one in quite a while. I did the six training races in March and April that I usually do, I did three road races, and then I did a few summer training races and that’s it. And I’ve liked the way it’s worked out. I haven’t given up racing entirely, but I’ve slowed down the pace a lot, focused on just a handful of races, and spent the rest of the time just riding. I may follow a similar method next year.

Okay, now I’m tired. I did my super, awful, horrible, extremely long race yesterday, and then I got up this morning and went out to race again. And I got two top ten finishes!

Yesterday’s race, The Tour of the Battenkill was the hardest ride I’ve ever done. I’ve been on more difficult courses before, but I’ve never worked that hard for that long. The course was 62 miles with some long hills and something like 10 miles of dirt roads, and it took me 3 hours and 30 minutes to finish. Much of that time I was working as hard as I could.

I started off in a pack of something like 40 racers, and we rode together for the first five miles or so, until we got to the first dirt section (the first of eight). At that point somebody in front of me crashed; I don’t know what happened exactly, but I was far enough behind it to be able to swerve off to the left and ride around the fallen riders. It always feels cruel to ride around people who have just crashed, but that’s what you do, if you’re lucky enough to be able to do it. I found myself a bit behind the main pack at that point, but with some effort I caught back on, and on we went.

Things were fine for the next five miles or so until we came to the first big hill, at which point a group of about six riders opened up a gap on the pack. I left some slower riders behind me, and as I crested the hill, I looked around to see who was left to ride with. I’m not entirely sure how things happened, but eventually I ended up riding with three other women, one of whom was my teammate, and then we caught up with two women from the front group who were starting to fall back, and the next thing I knew I was in a group of six and there were four riders up the road. That’s how things stayed for a long time after that. Eventually my group of six got a paceline going (where riders ride in a line, and one person leads for a while before moving to the left and dropping back to take their place at the end of the line to let someone else lead before they, too, drop back, and so on), and we rode that way for miles. For a little while the leading group of four stayed within sight, and we tried to catch them, but we just couldn’t do it.

The race stayed that way until one woman dropped away on a hard hill, and then another woman’s chain fell off and she had to stop to fix it, and I was left with a group of three other riders.

I think the hardest part of the race was watching the miles go by, slowly. I was happy to get to the halfway point, around 31 miles, but that left me with another 31 to go, which would take me over an hour and a half. Hitting mile 40 was great, but there was still another 20; hitting 50 was wonderful, but at that point I was beginning to get seriously tired. Around mile 55 my calf muscles were threatening to cramp, and around mile 60 my quad muscles were going. Thank God I only had two miles left at that point. I was still with the three other riders, including my teammate, going around the last corner into the finish line, and I would have loved to finish ahead of at least the riders on other teams, but I had only enough left to get me to the finish. Still, that got me 8th place, and let me tell you, I’m happy with that. Once I stopped riding, my muscles let me know just how unhappy they were, and I realized that I hadn’t had enough to eat or drink on the ride. So when Hobgoblin, who had just finished his own race, bought us cheeseburgers, I ate mine as fast as I could, and it was probably the best-tasting burger I’ve ever had.

Oh, and 8th place was enough to win me some prize money, so I came home $20 richer. The scenery we rode through was gorgeous — upstate New York hills — but, sad to say, I didn’t see much of it. I was too focused on staying just behind the rider in front of me and on looking out for potholes to take a moment to glance at the hills and farmland. Perhaps someday I’ll ride up there again, and this time do a more leisurely tour of the area.

Last night I tried to decide whether to ride in this morning’s race, which I had already registered and paid for, and I thought, well, I might as well try, and if it doesn’t go well, I can always drop out with a very good excuse. So I got up this morning and set out on my warm-up ride. I felt okay — a little wobbly on the small hills near my house, but okay. When the race started, my plan was to stay in the pack and draft as much as possible to conserve energy. That’s basically what I did, although at one point when the field was riding a little slowly I launched a short attack, just because I felt like I could. The further I got into the race, the looser my legs felt, and the more I thought, hey, this isn’t so bad! And then the last lap was there — surprisingly fast, only 45 minutes into the race after yesterday’s 3 1/2 hours — and I found myself in a decent position at the bottom of the hill leading into the finish line, so I passed a few riders on the hill and ended up in 9th place.

Phew! I’ve never raced two days in a row before, although this something a lot of bike racers do regularly; I had always thought I would be too tired the second day, but the truth is, it wasn’t so bad. If I tried to race tomorrow, things might not work out so well, but tomorrow is a rest day. And I need it because now I’m tired!