I waited until the 2nd this time, which could easily have proved my undoing, apparently. It’s a good thing both myself and my brother made it through in time. We’re both in for July 11th, as are two other, as of yet to be named riders who were inspired by our participation last year. It’s going to be another great ride!!

I know, those are excuses, not reasons. After all is said and done, the truth is if I wanted to, I’d find a way. But unlike others, I’ve had to face the cold (ha!) harsh reality that riding in the sub-zero cold is too harsh for me. I won’t whine about why it’s too harsh for me, suffice to say that for daily outings, it just is. Riding should be fun. Riding in tear-freezing temperatures, at least for me, isn’t. That’s my burden to bear, and I bear it without shame.

But that leaves me with a problem. I do love to ride, and I love the benefits of riding. I’m healthier and happier. That’s what got me into it to begin with, after all, and that’s what will keep me in. But how to ride when the weather doesn’t allow, or when one allows the weather to stand in the way (as is my case)? There are three main choices… stationary bikes, trainers, and rollers.

I prefer rollers over stationary bikes and trainers b/c rollers force you to stay balanced, while the more traditional trainers keep you upright on their own. Rollers train your riding form as well as your fitness level. I currently have a set of rollers I use when it’s too cold out, but they aren’t perfect. They’re not bad, mind you, as far as rollers go, but they suffer from the same thing most other rollers suffer from… they’re rigid. They just sit there holding the wheels in place, and as such, they don’t feel natural. Sure, you can move side to side, and mine have wheel guards to keep me from rolling off the cylinders, but there’s no forward/backward motion, so it feels stiff and unforgiving. Moreover, they don’t allow for out of the saddle sprinting very well. Once I’m up and rolling, I’m stuck in the saddle until I stop.

I’m here to tell you, that’s not natural at all. My future gf/fiance/wife will appreciate the benefits of occasional out-of-the-saddle riding.

The other problems rollers present are all easily overcome.

• Bored? Sit them in front of a television (or sit a television in front of them). Better yet, sit them in front of a television with a DVD player attached. If that’s not your thing, put on some music and ride to the rhythm.
• Getting too hot or staying too cold? You’re indoors… I’m going to assume that being able to afford a bike and rollers means you can afford to control your climate. You can always put a fan up to give you the illusion of wind (or to just keep you cool). Consider a headband to keep the sweat out of your eyes. If you’re rolling as you should be, you’ll sweat.
• Can’t mount or dismount? Well… this remains a bit of a struggle for me. I still need a wall for support, but I’m making it a goal for January to conquer that weakness. More on that later…

However, as I said, the one thing I’ve found that the rollers simply don’t do is feel natural. In a fixed position on the ground, they don’t let the bike move naturally as you pedal, which (unless you’re like me and have a perfectly flawless stroke), becomes very obvious after the first few revolutions. This fixed position also makes it difficult to stand up while riding. Not impossible, but you have to be really really careful and know what you’re doing. I’ve not tried it yet, b/c I’m not keen on launching myself off the rollers and into the television stand. Maybe someday…

And that’s why I really want to find myself in possession of an E-Motion Roller. The videos on the site highlight the natural movement of these rollers, as well as the bumper system that makes out of the saddle and in the saddle equally natural.

The only problem is that they’re not cheap. Still, one gets what one pays for, and since I’m dead set on hitting the mountains again next year, not to mention staying in shape in the meantime, I’m seriously considering dropping the not-insignificant cash for these things. Perhaps the most important point, however, is that since they’re good enough for The Fat Cyclist, they’re certainly good enough for me.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to trying out the mount/dismount technique shown in the last video on their video page.

As a nice follow-up to the rain yesterday, the fog provided me with a nicely muffled ride in. Plus, I was on the Torelli, so I was doubly happy.

I’m looking at getting a digital camera. Instead of the Portland, which would be an additional to things I already own, a digital camera would be brand new. I really wish I’d had it out in Colorado, so it makes sense that it be my reward to myself for finishing the Triple. Aside from the reward idea, there are lots of reasons, not the least of which is to punctuate these trite posts with equally trite images. But I want it for other reasons as well, having nothing to do with riding. No, having nothing to do with pr0n, either. That’s what the dedicated video camera is for, silly.

I’ve always been of the mind that if you’re going to get something, don’t settle, but get what you want. I’ve just started looking around, so I haven’t really even narrowed the field down yet, but I’m sure I will soon.

I’d ridden the Indian Creek Trails years ago before I picked up the Torelli, and only remember one little hill that gave me trouble. Bear in mind, that was back in my days of “Granny Gear is for Wussies” thinking. Now, I’ll hit Granny Gear without a second thought if it’s necessary or appropriate. I’m still trying to get the GF to appreciate it’s benefits. Once she truly does, she’ll find that she’ll go farther with less effort and generally train better with a full range of gears at her disposal.

Both rides were very hot. At least while I was on the streets getting to and from the trail. Once on the trail, the temperature cooled down dramatically. Between the creek and the trees, it almost felt cool. The construction at 103rd and Metcalf is a bit of a pain, but it’s not a huge deal. The work done at Antioch is phenomenal.

I made a couple wrong turns while I was getting to know the path again, but it’s easy enough to find one’s way again.

One of the things I really liked about riding in the mountains was the winding roads. While the trails don’t offer much in the way of blistering downhill runs, they are very winding, and are a lot of fun for that. I think the GF will find them very agreeable.

I wondered how I’d feel about riding once the TPB was over. I wondered if I’d have the motivation to keep going as hard as I’ve been. I wondered if I’d want to ride at all. The rides I’ve been on since I’ve been back have been some of the most enjoyable rides I’ve been on, even including the TPB. The pressure is off. I’m not turning the cranks with any goal in mind. I’m just turning the cranks to turn the cranks, and it’s fantastic! Even as hot as it’s been this week, putting 30 miles in at a time in the heat of the day has been thoroughly enjoyable.

I’ll tell you something else with regards to the heat. Riding at 12,000ft is a lot easier than riding in Kansas heat and humidity.

I absolutely intend to ride the TPB again next year. As does my brother, as does one of our hosts, and the GF even has aspirations for it. At some point, I’ll need to ramp up the training again my brother and I are going to beat our time of 8 hours and 14 minutes. For now though, I’m going to throw myself headlong into riding for the sake of riding.

Maybe I’ll see Warren T out on the trails sometime…

Those were the words that greeted us as we rolled into the Aid station at Vail Pass. It was the last of three grueling passes, and the sign spoke nearly true. It was all downhill from there. Mostly.

Triple Bypass

The day finally arrived. 8 months and then some of training, preparing, dreading, and looking forward. 6 months of riding to work, and hitting as many weekend miles as the weather allowed. All the trepidation, all the excitement, it all came down to this day. I woke at 04:30 to the sounds of Reveille. It somehow seemed appropriate. We snarfed down some of my brother’s pre-ride nutrition (yogurt, oatmeal and fruit), had some coffee and our all-too-kind hosts drove us to the starting line.

It was hard to believe were finally there. Even as we rode to the park-n-ride where my registration packet waited for me, it still hadn’t sunk in that we were finally there. It was cool out, almost cold. Clear skies with no threat of rain, or snow, or sleet. The arm and leg warmers had already proved their worth, though I wish I’d packed my long fingered gloves. The Edge was fully charged, and ready to record. The bike was as tuned as it could be, and I was as ready as I’d ever be. I left my registration packet there, to be picked up after the ride, since I wasn’t sure we’d see our hosts again.

From the staging area, my brother and I set off for the start line, a mere mile away. Looking around, we saw all manner of bikes and all manner of body types. The majority was what you’d expect… thin and athletic bodies on thin athletic bikes. But there were heavier commuter bikes (my brother’s for instance), and even a few recumbents and tandems. I distinctly remember one woman on a mountain bike that couldn’t have weighed less than 350lbs. “Good for her!” I thought, “I hope you make it all the way!” I never saw her again.

There was no mass gathering. No cacophony of *clicks* as riders set cleats to pedals. With 3,500 registrants, there was no other way to start than on a first-come-first-served basis. We arrived at the start line, and immediately set off. Both Diane and Julie were there cheering us on and taking pictures.

Squaw and Juniper Passes

The climb up to Squaw and Juniper passes was already familiar to us. Most of it, anyway. We’d ridden from Elk Meadow to about 10,000ft on Wednesday. As on our previous ride, we took a couple of short breaks on the way up to take pictures, but for the most part, just kept a steady pace as we climbed up to 11,140ft. The climb wasn’t new, nor was riding in a large group. The chill air, on the other hand, wasn’t something I counted on. At 45°F, my fingers quickly became very cold, and finally numb. And that was at 7-10mph on the way up. In spite of the rush I knew it would be, I began to dread the flight downhill on the other side, knowing that the sun wouldn’t have time to warm the air by the time we got there.

At the top of Juniper Pass, we stopped briefly for fuel and to rest the legs. We were a little tired, but not overly so. The Aid Station there was fully stocked with food and drink, porta-potties and more bikes than we could count. Our energy level was just about where we expected to be, given our rides the previous three days. At that point, we knew we’d made the right calls on our prep rides, and our confidence was as high.

And then we looked down and noticed a single speed laying on it’s side next to our bikes. Someone was riding a single speed up three mountain passes, and over 120 miles.

Wow. Just wow.

Taking a moment to contemplate what would drive a body to ride a single speed up and over mountains, we saddled up, clicked in, and started down the back side of Highway 103 towards Idaho Springs.

I was right to wish I’d packed my long fingered gloves. By the time we were halfway down, my fingers were numb to the knuckles. I couldn’t feel a thing and had very little muscle control. I had to look to see that my fingers were actually on the brakes, and had to concentrate to apply any pressure. Needless to say, I was a little nervous about this particular predicament. I’m going 35-45mph down a winding mountain road, cliffs on one side going up, and cliffs on the other going down, and I had minimal control over my brakes. Don’t think that stopped me from enjoying the descent, however, or that it stopped me from taking full advantage of the opportunity for speed. It did not. I laughed through the pain and watering eyes, and took corners and curves like I knew the Torelli could. In spite of having nearly crippled hands, I had a blast!

Idaho Springs and seeing our Private SAG staff for the first time

The fingers weren’t numb for long, though. The temperature difference between 11,000ft and 7,500ft is amazing. Cold at Juniper Pass, it was almost hot in Idaho Springs. It was there, pulling into town, that we found our Private SAG for the first time. The GF, the hosts and both of their sons were there, and the GF was kind enough to offer her belly beneath her shirt to warm my still numb fingers. Matthew went to the van to see if my gloves were there, but came back empty handed. I wasn’t too worried at the moment, but knew that the next pass might offer additional numbness complications. Warmed inside and out by the show of support, my brother and I tried calling our parents, and he called his wife before setting off again. It was still hard to believe we were actually riding the Triple Bypass, and that we were a third of the way done!

The grueling climb to the Loveland Aid Station and Arriving Exhausted

The next leg of the journey was considerably less glamorous. The ride was pleasant and relaxed from Idaho Springs to Georgetown. Sure, we were climbing, but it was a relaxed climb through beautiful country. It was somewhere in here that our private SAG team came through with a pair of gloves for me. They only had one pair, and since my fingers had suffered the most, it was decided that I take them. They promised a pair for my brother later in the ride, but before the next pass at Loveland. They came through.

As I was saying, the ride was pleasant and relaxed through this next stretch. Then we hit Georgetown and soon after that, I70. At Georgetown we used a two lane bike path. Smooth and well maintained, it was a great path to ride. It was steep here and there, and uphill everywhere, but it was a nice, scenic and relaxed ride. That is, until I70.

I70.

A slow and grueling climb against headwinds, with cars and semi-trailers screaming by at 75mph and greater, I70 was anything but relaxed and scenic. It was hot, ugly, and by far the least enjoyable section of the ride. Complicating the situation was the fact that my water bottles ran bone dry several miles from the Aid Station in Loveland. Fortunately, a kind lady by the side of the road offered me some of the ice water she was holding for her husband who hadn’t ridden by yet.

I’ve never been in a ride before where the enthusiasm and support showed by the general populace, or those there for other riders was as high and generous. The “fans” (for lack of a better word) were, to the last, fantastic, and hearing people yelling encouragement along the route at unexpected places had a motivation value I can’t begin to describe. That alone was worth the months of training.

Leaving the monotonous and grinding I70 behind, we pulled into the Loveland Aid Station together, and found our private SAG team. They immediately noticed our high level of exhaustion. The previous leg tapped us in a major way. Not enough that we doubted our ability to continue, but certainly enough to turn a brief 5 minute rest into 15 or 20 minutes. Looking around, we weren’t the only ones suffering the effects of the high speed traffic, headwinds, and mile after mile of steady 4-6% grade. The GF came through by helping me stretch and massaging my shoulders, neck and back, and the rest of the team came through with the gathering of food and drink. A ways away from us, we heard the loud *bang* of a tube blowing out. It sounded like a gunshot, and startled everyone around. We don’t know who it was, and can only hope that they had the foresight to bring extras like we had. Not long after this, Matthew pointed out a road up ahead, far up in the mountains. We wondered if that was where we were headed. A semi-trailer could be seen, as small as an ant, and we took some comfort in that it appeared to be the opposite direction from where we were going.

Loveland Pass and a Photo Op

We set out from the aid station after about 20 minutes of rest, and began the slow 4 mile crawl up to Juniper Pass. The climb was a steady 6-7% grade the whole way up. There was little in the way of respite, and when the grade did drop briefly to 2-3%, it felt like we were going downhill. The road we’d seen before from the aid station proved to be exactly where we were going. Looking down at the aid station from that height, it boggled our minds that we’d climbed that high in that short a distance, but we took a great deal of pride in it, and allowed ourselves a nearly continual moment of triumph.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, and yet at the same time what felt like only a few minutes, we arrived at Loveland Pass, 11,990ft. Oddly enough, as tired as we were arriving at the Loveland Aid Station, we felt exalted and full of energy arriving at Loveland Pass. This was the pinnacle of the ride. As high as it would take us, up grades as high as we’d see. In some ways, though we were only halfway to the finish, we’d overcome the worst the ride had to offer, and it felt absolutely, without reservation, fantastic. The air was chilly, but not cold. The wind was stiff, but not buffeting. The crowd at the top was all of one mind. Triumph. My brother and I soaked it in for a while, took a few pictures and chatted with a few of the others already at the top. Though nowhere near the highest elevation in the country, we felt, without apology, like we were on top of the world.

Downhill to the Frisco AID station

Ready and eager to enjoy another downhill run, we pulled our gloves and arm warmers on, and side-stepping a semi-trailer making it’s way through the crowd, we hit the hammer ring for another hammerfest down the mountain. At first it was a repeat of the previous run, with the exception of warm fingers. We were racing along at better than 45mph, pulling tight corners and having the time of our lives. Then we came upon three cars. A dark green Toyota Forerunner, a silver Honda Accord, and another sedan of unknown make or model. My brother and I were grouped with four or five other riders, and the cars appeared determined not to let us pass. Pass, you ask? Yes. Pass. We were passing cars and trucks on the highway, and it was glorious… or it would have been had they been more cooperative. My brother found an opening and passed them on the outside, but I couldn’t find a path. I was stuck, at least for the moment between the Honda and the Toyota watching him scream ahead down the mountain. The Honda and I paced each other for some time, around this curve, and down that straightaway until finally, after I’d lost sight of my brother, I was given a path on the right. Taking it, I stood up on the pedals and hammered past both them and the car ahead.

I kept up the tempo, hoping to catch up with my brother, but I couldn’t find him. I pedalled harder, thinking he was just ahead in the next group, only to be disappointed. I was convinced that he was hopelessly out of reach when I heard at voice behind me say “On your wheel!” It was my brother! I’d passed him without even realizing it, and apparently gave him quite the chase as he struggled to catch and keep up with me. Soon after we reunited, the three cars we’d battled passed us. We were coming near the end of the fall, and the grade was lessening. We lightened up on the pedals and relaxed a bit as we rode into and through Keystone, over the Dillon Lake dam road and into Dillon, and finally through wetlands into the Frisco Aid Station.

Arriving at the aid station was rather surprising. One minute we were making our way briskly over paved wetland paths, and the next minute we turn a corner to be greeted by cheering, music and tents full of refreshment. Had there been a choir singing praises, I wouldn’t have thought it out of place. We reunited with our fantastic private SAG team, who, once again, proved valuable beyond measure with face wipes, water fetching and uplifting enthusiasm. Truly, I don’t think we could have done it without them.

We arrived at the aid station relaxed, relatively well rested for having already ridden 80 miles, and with the exception of the clouding of my contacts, in perfect condition. 80 miles, and neither of us were hurting. We were tired, but not exhausted. Our saddles were still agreeing with us, and our bodies feeling, if not completely fresh, at least not finished. It was almost unnerving to think that we’d ridden that far, with that amount of slogging elevation gain, and were still feeling as fresh as we were. We rested for about 15-20 minutes refueling and taking advantage of the restrooms before saddling up, clicking in, and hitting the path once again.

Grinding uphill to Vail Pass Aid Station and arriving tired, but excited

Straight out of the Frisco Aid Station, we hit what appeared to be a paved rails-to-trails path. Straight and steady, it presented a gradual climb of 4%-5% grades that just didn’t seem to end. It became apparent that it was not, in fact, a rails-to-trails path, as the grades became more erratic and the path more curvaceous. Tucking in behind a group of 5 or 6 riders, we made great time for most of this leg. They pulled us along at a great pace, until finally, we couldn’t stay with them any more. Letting them go, we pushed along on our own. The trail offered little in the way of even brief downhill respites, and, in fact, became increasingly difficult the closer we got to Vail Pass. While it was a difficult climb up the path, it was some of the most scenic riding we saw. Though short, some of the climbs were the steepest of the day, all-but-requiring we stand up and hammer the granny gear to just keep moving. I distinctly hearing the phrases “C’mon! Seriously!” and “This just isn’t fair!” through this stretch. I’m not unconvinced that it wasn’t I who uttered them. Unfortunately, the grind and our level of energy were such that taking pictures didn’t occur to us as often as it had in the past. While we got a few, we didn’t get as many as I wish we had. The vistas were breathtaking.

Around a corner, my brother and I were greeted with the glorious sight of the Avon Aid Station, posed at the top of a hill like a castle, complete with festival day flags, streamers and merriment. It was a tough climb getting up the final path to the gate, but it was well worth it. Our private SAG team was there, as enthusiastic and proud as they could be. We’d hit the final pass of the day. The final long climb was behind us. There was time to celebrate and take pride on our accomplishment, b/c it was all downhill from there. A lady was holding a sign that said “You’ve climaxed, now enjoy going down!” All too perfect. We were tired, but we were full of accomplishment and pride. 20 more miles, and all of it downhill… or so we thought. We refueled, rested a bit, took some pictures, and set out on our way.

Downhill run to Avon, and pulling 22mph against the wind on level ground

I followed my brother to the exit gate, but lost him in the crowd. Thinking he’d gone ahead and I’d missed him, I set out with feverish abandon. Pushing my big ring as hard as legs with 100 miles and 9,000+ feet of climbing would allow, I raced down the hill. Pulling nearly 35mph, I kept up the pace as long as I could, but never saw him. Thinking, once again, that he was hopelessly ahead of me, I relaxed a bit. Right about that time, I heard him say “On your wheel!” just like before, and we were off. For almost 10 miles we leap frogged each other, passing everyone we came across and being passed by no one. It was nearly as glorious as our race against the cars on the backside of Loveland Pass in raw speed, and more glorious in that we knew we were almost there. We’d gone over 100 miles at speeds we’d only imagined, and up grades we dreaded. Our elation was mounting with each hard pull. There was no pain, there was only the wind in our faces, and pride in ourselves and each other.

Arriving at the finish line exhausted and a little sick

About 12 miles out from Avon, or 108 miles into the ride, the route moved onto the streets and leveled out some. What were 5-7% grades on the downhill became ±1% grades. Additionally, we hit a headwind, which eliminated any effect the slight downgrades might have given us. Somewhere along this leg, my brother found an opening that I was denied, and pulled ahead, leaving me stuck behind slower riders. Try as I might, I couldn’t get around them. I was tiring, and traffic wouldn’t allow slow passing. Eventually I did pass, but by then, my brother had hooked up with another stronger rider and was able to draft him all the way into the finish line. They traded wheels, each pulling the other for a time before trading off again. I, on the other hand, pulled 22-24mph against the wind on level ground alone. Where I got that energy I don’t think I’ll ever know.

It turns out the man my brother was drafting had been chasing us since the Vail Aid Station. He saw us pulling hard down the hill and thought to himself “Those are the guys I want to hang with!” He caught up with my brother after he’d lost me, and they stuck together through the end. Now, here’s the kicker. Matt (that was his name) has been base training, and focusing on keeping his heart rate low. I’m pleased as hell that my heart rate didn’t rise above 187 for the ride. Matt’s never rose above 162. As hard as he was pulling my brother for those last 10 miles, he hardly even broke a sweat. Wow. Just. Wow.

As I pulled into Avon, definitely sweating from the effort, I passed our private SAG team walking along the road. They’d been held up in traffic, and we’d made far better time than they anticipated, and weren’t able to get there in time to meet us as we rolled in. Though they apologized, and obviously felt bad for not being there, I don’t think they realize just how much they helped all along the way.

When I arrived at the finish line, I found my brother waiting there for me. “Let’s cross the finish line together!” he said, and we did. In a way, it was nice that it was just the two of us riding across together, ignorant of the crowd. We took pictures of each other, congratulated one another on a job fantastically done, and slowly walked our bikes to a grass embankment before we collapsed on the ground.
Our private SAG team arrived shortly thereafter with their own congratulations. At the time, I was too tired to be visibly excited. In fact, I was so tired that I felt a little bit nauseous. I was sincerely concerned for a time that I’d be sick right there on the grass. Pride wouldn’t allow it though, and I fought it down with chicken, half a baked potato and a cheeseburger. My brother felt more energetic than I, and was kind enough to join our hosts in getting the food and picking up my packet. He exchanged his small woman’s jersey for a medium men’s jersey at the same time. In the meantime, I simply lay there basking in the joy of completion and wondering if I was going to win my battle with nausea. That last pull into the wind did it for me. Had I taken it easier for those final 10 miles, I would have been perfectly fine, but what would have been the point of that?

For about an hour, the GF, Diane, Julie, Matthew, Andrew and my brother sat on the grass near the finish line and just took it all in. Spirits were high, and though we were tired, we weren’t nearly so tired as we thought we would be. Though it took us 8 hours and 11 minutes in the saddle, it didn’t take as long as we thought it would. Though the climbs were hard, they weren’t as hard as we thought they’d be. In every way, we’d underestimated ourselves, and came out well ahead of where we thought we’d be. Our months of mental and physical preparation, combined with the outstanding support of our friends paid off far more than we ever imagined. We were tired, but I’ve had shorter rides exhaust me more than this one did. We were tired, but we were fully satisfied.

The Highway Patrol and Our Thanksgiving Dinner

After a while, we picked the bikes off the grass and slowly made our way to the car. It was slow only in part because we were tired. It was slow in larger part because of the crowd. There was still a very steady stream of riders coming in an hour after we arrived, and no sign of it diminishing. The boys climbed in Andrews IROC, while the rest of us climbed in the F150. We changed into clean clothes, and proceeded to head out for a quick dinner before driving the long drive home. No sooner had we hit the highway than a highway patrol officer pulled the boys over. Apparently, he didn’t like the way Andrew changed lanes. I think they’re going to fight the ticket.

That done, with appropriate levels of teasing applied, we left the boys behind and hit Ruby Tuesday’s for dinner. My brother and I had Shrimp Alfredo and shared a milkshake. For some reason, a milkshake sounded better than anything, and it was. My Ruby Relaxer came in a close second, though. The others basked in salads, steaks and wine, and were pleasantly surprised when, in addition to filling up their gas tank for all the driving they did, we bought their dinner for them as well. I really cannot stress enough the value of the support they showed us during the ride.

Matthew had scheduled a paintball session for Friday afternoon, but my brother and I were really too concerned with making sure we were prepared for the Big Ride, and requested that it be rescheduled for Sunday (we were banking on not being too tired). He was agreeable, and so my brother and I drove down to Bergen Park (again) and met up with the rest of the “Warm Up” ride participants. While we were waiting, we noticed (how could we not) a silver Porsche Carrera drive up with a bike rack on top carrying a nice Scott. We couldn’t help but make a little fun of it. I mean, seriously… a Carrera, with a bike rack? C’mon. Turns out that it’s the Team Evergreen Club President!

I want to be a bike club president if it allows me to afford a Porsche!

He gives a bit of a speech to us, talking about the origins of the ride, and how it’s turned into one of, if not The premiere single day event in the country. He wishes us all the best of luck, and we all click in and set out….

…on a hard ride with some seriously confidence busting hills.

Triple Bypass “Warm Up” ride

It turned out to be a much more difficult ride than either of us imagined, or hoped it would be. We made it, but we were a lot more tired than we should have been after 16.5 miles. The altitude wasn’t affecting either of us as much as we expected it to, but the ride leaders set a mean pace. Naturally, we had to keep up. Dropping simply wasn’t an option.

That night, the GF made another dinner. This time she made home made Scallop and Shrimp Alfredo with Angel Hair pasta. It was an another amazing dinner. That GF of mine can cook, and loves to do so. Everyone who’s had anything she’s made loves that she loves to, as well.

Taking a lesson from our bike commuting experiences, we packed all our gear after dinner, knowing that in the morning we’d be too tired to be sure we’d gotten everything. Then, a couple of glasses of wine settled our nerves and we went down for an early bed time around 9:30pm.

Neither of us slept that well. We were anxious and nervous and excited all at the same time. We’d been preparing for over 8 months in our own separate ways, and as difficult as it was to believe, it was almost time…

After the success of the previous day’s ride, my brother and I wanted to ratchet it up a notch on Thursday. Not a huge notch, mind you, we were still cognizant of working ourselves too hard too early. We didn’t want to come down with altitude sickness, or stress our bodies too much before the Big Ride on Saturday. But we were also very pumped up. That meant more climbing and at a higher altitude.

This time, Matthew took us down to Bergen Park again to pick up my bike, and a few other odds and ends, and drove us all the way up to Echo Lake at the foot of Mt. Evans Road. Matthew drove back down to Bergen Park to wait for us. What a star!

Echo Lake to 12,000ft and back to Bergen Park

The climb up Mt. Evans Road is, all and all, a little steeper than up to Juniper Pass from Bergen Park. Combine the additional grade with the additional altitude, and we were working harder. But the extra effort was well worth it. It’s absolutely gorgeous up there. Made all the more compelling by having gotten there under our own power. All the pictures we took simply don’t do it justice… if you’ve not seen it, you owe it to yourself to head up thataway sometime.

At 12,200ft or so, we had to turn around in spite of a strong desire to continue on. Hunger pangs started to hit, and that’s a sure sign that it’s time to reduce effort and refuel. So turn around we did, and enjoyed yet another fast downhill run back to Echo Lake where we grabbed a light lunch and proceeded to climb back up to Juniper Pass before throwing it in neutral and letting gravity have her way with us back to Bergen Park. We didn’t sprint downhill like we did the day before, but it was still a blast!

While heading back, we stopped to check out one of the “scenic overviews.” While there, we met a local couple who were all to happy to help out a couple of flatlanders with a picture. Our camera batteries were dead, so she took this one and e’mailed it to us later.

Also on the way down… we saw a short (what appeared to be) Mexican man walking two wolves up towards the pass. I’m not sure if they were pure bred or mixed, but they were huge, they were gangly, they were grey, and they were gorgeous. If the camera batteries weren’t already dead, I would have stopped to take photos.

That night, the GF cooked up a fantastic meal of prime rib, roasted fennel, and crab cakes. Mmmmm…. is there anything crab cakes can’t do? It was so good, our hosts thanked *us* for the dinner, never mind that they were putting us up for the entire week free-of-charge.

After dinner, my brother found an organized warm up ride for the Triple Bypass being put on by Team Evergreen. It appeared pretty low key, and more of a tour of the Bergen Park area than anything, so we committed ourselves.

I’m used to waking up early in order to ride into work with time to cool off. My normal 05:00 CST wake-up time nearly came through for me, and I woke at 06:30 MST, and was unable to go back to sleep. So I got up and joined our host who was already up with coffee ready. It wasn’t long before my brother was up, and we started planning the week’s training. He was very concerned with not overdoing it, and fortifying ourselves with proper nutrition. I’ve been winging this whole thing from the start, so I continued that trend and just went with the flow. He been counting protein grams, and making sure to get the ride types of food at the right time during his preparation. I’ve been eating frozen pizzas and whatever else the GF puts in front of me. Granted, I’ve been eating *better*, but I’ve not been strict by even the least strict sense of the word “strict.” For the most part, I’ve been training like I ride… by the seat of the pants.

Elk Meadow to 10,000ft and back to Bergen Park

So, we eat what he recommends, and hang out for a few hours catching up, chatting with our hosts, and generally enjoying the start of our vacation. At around 11 or so, we packed up the truck with our cycling gear (including our bikes), and son #2 drove us down to Bergen Park, where we hit a local bike shop and had a quick bite to eat before hitting the road. While at the bike shop, I had them true my wheels and check the rear derailleur as it felt a little off. As it turns out, the derailleur drop out is bent a little. I opt to ride it as is, and take them up on the offer to fix it overnight. Wheels trued up, Son #2, who I will refer to as “Matthew” (b/c that’s is name) dropped my brother and I off on Highway 103 just west of Bergen, and we set out. Our plan was to ride for about 30 minutes, and then do 15 second sprints followed by 15 second recovery or another 15 minutes before turning around. Things didn’t really work out that way. 30 minutes came, and we just felt like continuing the slow climb up, which, as it turns out, wasn’t nearly as hard as we thought it would be. We set a nice slow pace of around 7mph, and just rode… and rode… and rode. Bergen is at about 7,700ft, and we probably started at around 7,900ft. After an hour, we were just a couple hundred feet shy of 10,000, and decided it would be criminal to not hit that mark. 10,000ft arrived, none the worse for wear, and we turned around to reap our reward.

I can tell you with no qualms whatsoever that flying down a mountain at 35-45mph, taking the corners and curves tight on a bike built for racing is one of the singular joys in life. I won’t say it’s better than sex, but I will say it comes damn near. I really put my Torelli through the paces, learning it’s limits in ways Kansas is simply not equipped to offer. We were laughing the whole time, pushing ourselves more than we intended, but we couldn’t help it! The spirit grabbed hold and would not let go. And then came The Curve. I’d replaced my brakes pads a few weeks back with brake pads I thought would be better. Let’s just say I’m glad they proved inadequate on an inside curve where I would have gone into the cliff face, rather than off the side of the cliff. I didn’t actually hit the cliff face, but I did leave the road surface and was headed that way. Lesson learned, we continued our downhill run, perhaps a little more cautious, but having a blast all the same.

Aside from leaving the pavement once, I was incredibly pleased with how the Torelli performed. It was absolutely perfect, cornering on rails, and dipping lower than I ever thought it would, only to bounce back up for the straightaways like it was coming up off a trampoline. What a fantastic bike to have for those 45mph runs. The triple crank also came in damn handy. I don’t think I would have been able to make it without it. I probably could have used another cog on the low end, but I made do just fine.

Arriving back in Bergen Park, I drop the bike off at the shop to have them bend the drop out back into place, and we head back to the cabin, feeling very good about being able to finish the Triple Bypass. We made the climb up to 10,000ft quite easily, and had the time of our lives on the way down.

A few hours later the bike shop calls me back and tells me that not only is the drop out bent (easily fixed), but the rear derailleur is bent as well and one of the chain tensioner cogs is loose (fixable only with a replacement part). It still works, though, so I decide I’m not in the mood to spend $300, and tell them to adjust it as best they can, and I’ll replace it later. That disappointing call out of the way, my brother and I and Matthew (who you’ve already met) and Andrew (son #1) get back to playing Halo 2.

We’re nowhere near as good at Halo as we are at riding.

Finally arriving in Denver, we stopped at the Swedish Medical Center, where the GF’s newborn niece was… well… born. A week premature, and weighing in at almost 7 pounds, she’s very very tiny. She’s almost, but not quite, as long as my forearm. I didn’t hold her, but the GF did, nearly swooning in the process she was so taken by her.

While at the hospital, we decided to head off at the pass the health issues that were plaguing us on the drive out. That added about an hour to our hospital stay, and having driven for about 12 hours already, I was getting tired and even a little cranky. However, I’m not one to force my agenda on anyone, especially when there be health concerns on the table. In the end, the wait was worth it. Health concerns dealt with.

Leaving the hospital, we made our way into the mountains where our hosts, Diane and Julie live with their two sons, Andrew and Matthew, two dogs, RJ and Sadie, and three cats, Charlie, Sparks and Bogie. It was dark, and the road winds up the mountain, and my already overly tired mind had a hard time with it. I made a couple of wrong turns before we finally landed safe and sound in their driveway. They live in a beautiful log cabin at 8,400 feet on Bear Mountain, just up the hill from Evergreen, CO. With a gorgeous view of Denver in the distance and a wraparound porch, we were set for the week. My brother arrived earlier in the day and met our hosts for the first time. All socializing aside, his first order of business was to tackle the mountain they live on with his bike. He did so, and experienced first hand what altitude can do. He was fine through the ride, but when he was done, the light-headedness hit hard. Naturally, I was jealous that he was able to get out and ride, but I took some small comfort in his misery.

We drove.

To Wichita.

We detoured thataway in order to drop the puppies off at my parents. We couldn’t afford to board them for the week, and Mom and Dad were kind enough to take care of them for us. My parents rock. We stayed up a while chatting and introducing our puppies to their new puppy, Chloe. Squanto and Chloe got along great! They played and did their little butt-in-the-air slapping-the-ground dance with each other until we were in tears laughing so hard. Chloe and Tank… not so much. Tank really wanted to play, but Chloe didn’t care for him that much. There was minor growling and a little bristly fur, but after a while there didn’t seem to be any real threat, so we hit the sack, ready to make the long slow drive to Colorado.

We got to the ride start after stopping off at a coffee shop for some coffee and swag and hung out in the parking lot waiting for the rest of the pack to show up. One guy drove up in a silver Carerra with a bike rack on top. What a sight that was. He got out, an old wizened fellow with silver hair, stocky of build and yet with the definition of one used to long ride in a bike saddle. I have to admit, we did make a little fun of the fact that he drove a Porche to a bike ride, and with a bike rack, no less. As it turns out, however, he’s the Team Evergreen club president. Who’d've thunk it?

At 12:55 they called everyone together. There were about 30 of us, and they gave the typical “thank you for showing up, ride safe and obey the law” speech. The club president mentioned the growth of the Triple Bypass over the years, saying that it far outstripped what the original organizers had in mind, and that it was one of, if not the premier one day ride in the nation.

All I know is that it’ll be a defining challenge for myself and my brother.

After the short speech, we were on our way. All in all, it was, in a word, tough. It was a lot more effort than either myself or my brother anticipated, and we’re hoping it didn’t set us back too much the day before the Big Ride tomorrow. I think he’s more worried than I am. I’m used to riding day after day after day. Him? Not so much.

Not only was today more physically taxing, it was more mentally taxing. I think the reason, at least in part, is that we didn’t know when the climbs would end. They were steeper, and we didn’t know how long they’d go. Tomorrow, though we’ll be climbing hard for miles upon miles, we know going into it that we’ll be climbing for miles upon miles. We can steel ourselves before the first pedal stroke, thus saving us any mental anguish that comes from asking the question “When will it end?!” We didn’t have that today. Additionally, we rode considerably harder and faster today just to stay with the pack. Wise? Maybe not. But it’s what cyclists do.

We spoke with a couple of the other guys that are riding tomorrow, and they mirrored our sentiment that the climbs today were more difficult than, at least, the climb up to Juniper, the first peak we’ll arrive at tomorrow.

All the same, it was another gorgeous ride in Colorado.

Had some problems with the bike, and had to drop some cash to get it up to par. Problems included a bent rear derailleur drop out, and insufficient braking power. The rear derailleur is bent, but not so bad that it doesn’t work. It just doesn’t work perfectly.

My brother and I got out yesterday and rode about 18 mile from 7,500ft to *just* over 10,000ft. We both felt fantastic.

We got out again today and rode from about 10,000ft to 12,000ft, and then back down to 7,500ft. We still feel fantastic. Up above the timberline, we were loving life.

So far, though we can still feel the effects of altitude are minimal.

In short, thus far, this place rocks! Our hosts are incredible, the riding has been going great, and it is absolutely gorgeous out here. Riding in Kansas when I get back is going to be boring.

I’ll have my laptop with me, and a camera, both of which I intend to use. Last week was a really slow week for blogging, but aside from being rained out one day, a very good week for riding.

This week, I’m going to try to force myself to write more, but I may have to simply face the fact that I’m in a bit of a blogging slump.

Tonight we head to the parents, who are taking care of our puppies. Tomorrow we make the drive to Evergreen, CO, where we’ll spend the next three days acclimating at altitude before the big ride on Saturday.

Unfortunately, in the chaos that yet remains my Monday morning routine, I left my Edge 705 at home, so I wasn’t able to record the ride. It felt a little like going commando, but without the fun.

The ride itself was a focused ride. I forced myself to pay attention to my cadence and heart rate. Since I didn’t know exactly what they were, I went by gut feel. Who knows how well I did, but I was pretty wasted when I got home. I’m not sure how much of that was effort and how much was not eating enough through the day. Around 20 miles, I was feeling a little beat, so I stopped to get a Gatorade. That brought me out of my funk, and I was able to head into the winds without much difficulty.

There were quite a few fellow cyclists out, but not a one of them was going my way.

This morning I opted for the standard ride in. The main reason was not being wasted and too sweaty by the time I got here. I’m going to pick up some fruit and pasta at lunch, and set myself up with a nice snack about an hour before I leave.

Over on my commute routes page, I’ve laid out the route I intend to take every day this week. ~35 miles home every day, today through Thursday, and nearly the same loop again on Friday. In the mornings I’m going to buck up and take my 15 mile route into work, going well out of my way out to Lackman before doubling back and heading back into Overland Park.

It is going to be an exhausting week, but it’s designed to break me down. Next week I’ll be in full recovery mode with little to no exercise while my body repairs itself for the Triple Bypass, by which time I’ll be the stronger for the effort I pour out this week.

I’ll probably be posting some pretty boring stuff this week. Dry accounts of how I’m feeling, how the rides went and the like. I want to be able to look back and see exactly where I was and how I felt about it.

I don’t expect much in the way of commuter or lawn mower racing posts this week, but you can always hope. ;)

There were 9 of us all told. I felt more than a little like a noob, there amongst the likes of CommuterDude, Noah and BadgerLand, all of whom have been commuting for far longer than I. But cyclists are, by and large, a very friendly bunch, and we all got on great. We hung out there for a while, showing off our bikes and drooling over other bikes. There were all manner of rides, from beater mountains, to beater roadies, to fully decked out commuters (yum!) and racing bikes. We took off at 21:00 sharp for parts unknown (at least to me). My trusty 705 recorded the ride, and you can see the results on motionbased.com.

It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden in the dark, and though my light hadn’t been charged in a few days, there was plenty of light from the rest of the (extremely) bright headlights the rest of the troop were sporting. The air was calm, the stars were out, and all in all, those 50 miles were some of the most a fantastic, relaxing, invigorating and encouraging I’ve ridden in a long time.

We had a close call near Cedar Niles and 87th, as a family of skunks scurried off the road into the underbrush as the peleton passed. There was some residual aroma, but it was their natural state… no one was sprayed, thank the Gods. At this point, the light was really failing, and the collective brightness of our lights was readily apparent. I can only imagine how we must have looked to motorists, nevermind anyone who happened to be on their porch as we passed. What a sight we must have been! From there it was full speed ahead as we descended down what, in the dark, felt like a never ending hill. It was fantastic, made all the more exciting by the fact that, at those speeds, our lights were barely enough to illuminate stopping distance.

In spite of our daring-do, we arrived without incident in De Soto, and took a brief break while we refueled. Noah continued to snap pictures, one of which was of a bug splat on C’Dude’s glasses… Frankly, I’m not surprised he got hit. The bugs were out in force. I probably swallowed half a dozen or so. Who needs gel pack when you have flying insects?

On the way back, it was more climbing than descending, which is where the encouraging part of the ride factors in. I got to talking with Badger about him riding the Triple Bypass in ’05. He had a few tips for me, which I took to heart. Given my performance on the relatively trivial hills on this ride, he was part of the group that voted in favor of my being ready in a few weeks. Whether they’re right or not, it’s bolstering to hear someone who’s ridden it think so, anyway.

Right around where we saw the skunks on the way out, we finally caught full sight of the barely waning gibbous, thereby making the ride a complete success. At that point, we lost Badger, and I picked up my pace a little bit. 35 miles into the ride, and my legs were feeling fantastic. At Woodland and Prairie Star Parkway, Al and I kept going straight to hit the Wendy’s parking lot from the backside, while the rest of the group took a right to hit it head on. Ours was a full sprint from Prairie Star all the way to Wendy’s, and it felt great!

More bike awe was had, and farewells were said, and Noah, Chris and myself made our way home. Parting ways near Monrovia, I saw a fox in the road on Neiman between 75th and 79th. He was probably dining on some fresh road kill before I startled him away from his meal…

“A cyclist!” he thought. “Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a cyclist riding about after midnight! There’s something mighty queer behind this.” He was right, but he never found out any more about it.

Just a few more minutes and I rounded out an even 50 miles as I rounded the corner before easing into my driveway. It was after 12:30 and I was fulfilled, but ready for bed.

I’m more determined than ever, now, to acquire for myself a commuter bike that I can trick out with fenders and bags and lights and all that jazz, and yet still maintain that nice roady feel.

See the posts by CommuterDude and Noah for other takes on the ride…

I had a little burnout this morning, myself. In fact, I drove to work today. I know… I know… I’m not proud of it, but that’s burnout for you. The steady hefty northerly yesterday on the (northerly) way home just sapped me mentally and physically. I didn’t have it in me to ride. I’ve been tired all week from my ride on Sunday, and was up late last night at the pool hall playing (any guesses… ?) pool (FTW!) and boozing it up. Between the wind, the tired, and the boozy pool, I needed a break.

I’ve burned out from working out at the gym, and just quit going. But that’s not an option here. I have real and difficult goals to achieve, and there’s no backing out now. I have to keep it up. I have to find a way to deal. We both do.

Some of my ideas are:

I need move my weekend training rides to Saturday, and rest on Sunday. Riding on Sunday only to get up and ride into work is tougher, I think, than getting up on Saturday after working all week. It’s worth a shot.

I’m keeping my route variety up. I rarely take exactly the same route anymore. I switch things up, even just a little, with a side road here, or a parking lot there. Just enough to help keep the spice in the relationship.

I’m listening to my body. When it’s tired, I take it slower, and when I have the energy, I use it. The risk is falling into complacency and becoming lazy. Have to watch that.

I’m enjoying other interests, aside from cycling, and I’m not making training the central most part of my life. Keeping things in perspective is important.

Any other ideas? What do you do to stay alive and well in the saddle?

Great month for commuting to work. I took three VPN days and two drive days, but other than that, I was steady. I rode my Kona even on the day I had to wear a suit and give an InfoSec presentation to the Board. To date, I’ve saved $165 by riding to work instead of driving. It’s not monumental, but it’s not bad, either.

Training

April was a much better month than either March or February, and slightly better than January, but I absolutely have no choice but to make May and June stellar. The highlight of April was tracing the Spring Classic ’08 route from my house. A good ride, that one, especially considering I did it the day after helping the GF’s parents move. I was tired, but I was determined.

Errands

None to speak of. Still sans chain, so we’ll see how May works out. Thing is, I don’t get out much for errand type things, and when I do, they’re typically pretty far away. Anymore, the GF has taken it upon herself to get a lot of errandy things done, and while she does like to ride, she’s not the dedicated masochist that I am.

Mileage Goals

Here’s where April really stands out. I had 499.83 miles (*just* shy of 500!), which was 121% of my goal for the month. I brought my overall deficit down from 225 at the end of March to 135 at the end of April. I still have some ground to make up from February, but with the increase in training, I expect to see that disappear in a few of weeks. My daily average of 25 miles was also much better than previous months.

Fitness

One thing I haven’t really looked at is the health benefits of all this riding. I know I feel better, am generally more awake and alert, as well as more assertive and steadfast in all things, but where’s the hard evidence that all this stuff is paying off? How do I know I’m actually doing myself any good?

Here’s one way… When I started, my average HR was sitting at around 164bpm, while my average speed was somewhere in the neighborhood of 15. At the end of April, my average HR has decreased to about 154bpm, while my average speed has increased to 17(ish). In the middle of that, my average cadence increased from 79 to 81. I’m faster at a higher RPM with less real effort. That’s solid.

I don’t know what my resting HR was at the beginning of the year, but right now it’s at around 58. Again… solid.

Memorable Moments

• Tortuous hills on 135th right after leaving Olathe Lake on my Spring Classic Absentee ride.
• Getting a flat on the way home from work. My first.
• The first time I turned a simple commute into a leg busting hill fest, while at the same time going from 9 miles to 16.
• Realizing that I wasn’t as tired after 16 hilly miles in April as I was after 7 flat miles in December.
• New tires.