Into the Sun

Into the sun 12x15 nuther guy III 500x400

“Into the Sun”, Copyright © 2002 by Bryan Flamig. Photo taken at the Badwater salt flats, Death Valley National Park.

With excitement beginning to build for the upcoming trip, Death Valley is on my mind these days. In celebration, I thought I’d post a picture or two from previous photography trips to Death Valley. This picture was taken in late March, 2002 at the Badwater salt flats, 282 ft below sea level. That’s not snow you are seeing in the photo. It’s salt crystals, packed down into a trail.

This photo was “manipulated” somewhat in Photoshop. I tweaked settings to make the mountains appear the way they do. And if you look closely, you’ll discover two of the people walking are actually the same person. See if you can spot which two. Someday, maybe I’ll “add” some bicycles and turn those walkers into cyclists. That little dot on the salt horizon to the right is actually my wife, out taking pictures of salt crystals up close with a macro lens.

I’ll be riding by this point a little over a week from now, both on the way to Shoshone, and on the way back to Furnace Creek. Hopefully, the sun will still be shining by that time (roughly the 130 mile mark.) If not, I’ll be in for a long night.

I may post some other pictures later. I’ll have to find them in my highly (un)organized pile of photos sitting on numerous hard drives, CD’s and DVD’s.

1/4 milers

Kurt Kinetic Trainer

Kurt Kinetic Pro Trainer – shown with an orange Continental training tire, and a Bontrager 2008 Race X Lite rear wheel (obtained via replacement warranty, and now ironically relegated to indoor training duties.)

I’m a drag racer now!

Not really.

But the unusually cold and rainy weather has meant more time on the indoor trainer.

(And really, what’s up with 35 degrees in late February? This is Phoenix. You know – Arizona? Southwest desert and all? Land of 110 degrees and blazing saddles?)

We all know what indoor training means: mind (and butt)-numbing saddle time where an hour can seem like two — or three.

So how to cope?

I cope in several ways. Sometimes, I plop a Spinervals DVD into the computer and do 30 minute sessions of Tempo/TT intervals. These are effective and efficient workouts. On days when I want to ride free and unstructured, I play favorite tunes in a random shuffle, adjusting my cadence to the tempo of the music. Other times, I spin silently in yoga-zone and focus on breathing, trying to still my mind and just be “in the moment.”

So what does this have to do with “drag racing?”

Well, recently, I discovered another technique, quite by accident. I was haphazardly spinning on the trainer during an unfocused session. After five miles of this, I decided to liven things up a little by shifting into a higher gear and pedaling as fast as I could, for as long as felt comfortable – which turned out to be a 1/4 mile, according to the bike computer. I eased off the effort till I felt rested, and this also turned out to be a 1/4 mile long.

Hmm… Why not do a series of intervals this way? A 1/4 mile drag race, and then a 1/4 mile recovery. Rinse and repeat.

I did this ten times, twice per mile, for five more miles. And after several sessions of this type of training, I’ve grown to like it.

I usually do the hard efforts in Zone 4, and the recovery portion in Zone 2. (I use the heart rate zone system recommended by Joe Friel – where Zone 4 is just below the anaerobic threshold, and Zone 2 is well within the aerobic range.) Zone 4 is a good zone for speed work. If I’m feeling my oats, I crank up into anaerobic range (Zone 5), which is great for increasing sprinting power.

For me, the 1/4 mile intervals have several advantages. They are easy to execute. What could be simpler than watching the odometer on the bike computer, waiting for a 1/4 mile to go by? You can start the hard effort at the zero mark, pedal hard till the 0.25 mile mark, go easy till the 0.5 mile mark, pedal hard till the 0.75 mile mark, and so on. You don’t have to remember complicated timing patterns.

Using distance as the measurement for interval length encourages you to pedal harder. The faster you go, the sooner that 1/4 mile is reached and the suffering ends. For me, riding in the middle gears at a brisk 95-105 rpm cadence on the Kurt Kinetic Pro trainer means a Zone 4 effort, at speeds of 20-21 mph. At 20 mph, a 1/4 mile goes by in roughly 45 seconds. I ease off to about 15 mph in Zone 2 recovery, shifting down twice into an easier gear. At 15 mph, a 1/4 mile takes 60 seconds.

Effectively, I’m doing 45 seconds hard, 60 seconds easy. This is just enough time in the hard portion to get some training benefits, but not so long as to turn the session into a torture-fest. And the one minute recovery is just enough time to recover, without tempting my mind to wander off into a day-dream.

I often precede these intervals with a five-mile warm-up, then do the intervals 10 times, covering another five miles. So I get in 10 miles of training, taking around 40 minutes. The intervals keep this 40 minutes from seeming like a long slog.

I know this method isn’t following any known published regimen, but it does have some merit. Alternating between Zones 2 and 4 is an effective way to train for hard efforts, and keeps you from lingering in the dreaded training “dead zone” that sits in a portion of the Zone 3 range – where you feel like you are getting a hard workout, but are not really pushing your aerobic boundaries, or getting a good aerobic base. Instead, you are just wearing yourself out with (relatively) little gain. Many riders fall into this trap – I’ve been there, done that.

It could be that 1/4 mile intervals aren’t long enough. Perhaps next time I’ll try 1/2 mile intervals. But I do want the training to be easy enough that I’ll actually do it!

I don’t follow structured training plans when preparing for an event. My spirit chafes at such rigidity and at any hint of authority, including my own. (I am a charter member of Insubordinate, Inc., after all. Ha!) Even though I want to improve, this bike riding thing is supposed to be fun, right? I’m not out racing for medals or monetary prizes. I’m just exploring how far and how fast my body (and mind) can take me, and staying fit in the process. With that in mind, I do keep up on the latest trends and try to incorporate the basic principles into my training, but I keep the rides flexible, changing plans depending on how I’m feeling. One thing I’m careful about on training days is to not do any mindless riding. There’s not enough time for that.

For me, doing 1/4 mile intervals provides just enough structure to be beneficial, without tying me to the whipping post.

I do laugh, though, at the irony that I’m now training for a double century, a 1/4 mile at a time. Ha!

Two weeks to go

With the Death Valley Double less than two weeks away, that gulp in my throat is getting bigger. A combination of nagging aches and pains, winter weather colder and wetter than normal, (well, for Phoenix anyway), and a general sense of low-level fatigue/lack of desire have made for sporadic training these past few months.

I’ve completed a few big rides which have helped boost confidence, but at the same time, my speed and power are not where I’d like them to be. Practically everyone I ride with seems stronger and faster. I don’t seem to have the fitness/energy/will/desire to ride any harder.

I’m hoping this is mostly psychological. Sometimes, my body’s reaction to challenges is to shut down. Not fight or flight, but to lay down and go to sleep. This is not helped by the time of year. In the colder, grayer days of winter, my body wants to hibernate.

Kind of hard to train for an ultra-cycling event and hibernate at the same time. Ha!

When the day finally comes and I’m standing at the start line in Furnace Creek, excitement will most likely rule the day, and I’ll summon up the energy needed for 196 miles of wide-open desert riding. At least, I hope so. I’m relying on the 38 centuries I’ve done the past two years – a solid endurance base.

The fewer training miles this season was partly on purpose. I wanted to not wear myself out, and train more intelligently. The plan was a few long rides, and a lot of shorter, more intense rides. I got the few long rides in – but the short rides? Well, if you count lying on the couch watching the Olympics …

The one thing I wasn’t anticipating is sore sit bones – a direct result of not ramping up more slowly to the longer rides. That has proved to be the major flaw in training. My legs have easily absorbed the long 130-150 mile rides. But my bottom? It’s a bit unnerving to be sore even after ten miles of riding. Makes a person wonder about doing that 19 more times.

It’s too late to be changing saddles, so I purchased two pairs of shorts from different manufacturers, thinking I’ve probably worn my old shorts out. (They seem to last about a year, if that). I’m hoping that having two different shorts with varying pressure points will  help relieve things.

Despite the dark and gloomy nature of this post, (and the dark and gloomy weather outside today), I’m still confident about my abilities. I know these doubts are just chitta vrittris run amok. That’s all.

Know when to fold ‘em

Some days are magical days on the bike. Others, not so much.

Take last Saturday. I rode the 20 miles down to Kiwanis park in Tempe, ready to do PMBC’s Ahwafooty loop in the foothills of Ahwatukee, hoping to get in 70-80 miles — if my bottom supported the endeavor. It was still sore from an epic ride the week before.

I got a late start, which wasn’t helped by forgetting water bottles and having to turn around, and I was delayed further by having to detour around road construction. Now 15 minutes behind schedule, I put a bit o’ hustle into the pedals, knowing I’d have to average 17-18 mph to make it to the park on time, which due to stop lights and such, meant a lot of 20+ mph riding.

But I just couldn’t do it — my average to the park was a measly 16.2 mph. Okay, so I wasn’t having the best of days. Fatigue from the epic ride the week before? Over-trained? Pollution? Cold weather? Whatever. My legs would warm up eventually, wouldn’t they?

Fortunately, the group was late in leaving in the park, as I found out to my surprise when I pulled into the staging area ten minutes after the official start time.

I took off with the group and tried valiantly to stay with the pack I was in — and it wasn’t even the lead pack. The group speed along Pecos Rd was 19 mph. My speed was 18.5 mph. The math was not in my favor. But 18.5 mph was all I could muster, even with a Zone 5 heart rate. Memories of cruising along this stretch of road at 24-26 mph, back in the old days, made me wonder what was going on.

By the second rest stop I was light headed, almost dizzy. Perhaps it was best to cut the ride short and head for home. Except home was 36 miles away. Okay, then. Perhaps I should finish the loop, go to the designated post-ride restaurant and try to recoup, and/or see if I could hitch a ride home.

My speed inched downwards, and soon I was riding alone. It was all I could do to muster 13 mph. Even though the restaurant was now only a few miles away, I wasn’t sure I could make it. Not sure I should even try. I was still light headed, and had no power whatsoever in the pedals.  My sore bottom was not helping matters, and I know from (painful) experience that riding slow (13 mph) makes such matters worse.

I decided to wait at the third rest stop, hoping one of my slower friends in the club would arrive behind me. But no dice. So I called my wife to come and rescue me. As I waited, another club rider did happen by. After telling him I wasn’t feeling well, he hesitated leaving me behind. But I reassured him I wasn’t in that bad of shape — that as a precautionary measure, I had simply decided to call it a day.

You see, I know when to fold ‘em.

What’s the point of pushing ahead, when not feeling well?

My heart rate was 125 bpm when I stopped, and drifted down to 70-90 bpm. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was most likely suffering from low blood sugar, in a “bonk”-like state. Not sure why, because my eating patterns before and during the ride were the same as always.

I didn’t really want to have my wife drive 25 miles to pick me up, but her response when I apologized for taking time away from her day was, “Knowing the cycling fanatic that you are, if you say you aren’t feeling well and need to be picked up, I know something is wrong. And I’d rather you call, than try to slog your way home, risking a more serious outcome.”

Warning: Rant ahead.

This business of carrying a cell phone along on rides, and actually using said phone to cut rides short reminds me of an article I read a while back on RoadBikeRider.com. In the article, the author talks about how he doesn’t own a cell phone, and if he did, he’d never take it on a bike ride. His reasoning can be summed up as follows: If he had a cell phone, then halfway through a ride he might be tempted to call someone to pick him up, cutting his ride short. And that would be a terrible, terrible thing!

Said author goes on to brag that one of the few times he’s ever cut a ride short was when he had a broken hip.

How macho.

Then he admits in the next breath that he relied on someone else having a cell phone to call for help, in his case of a broken hip.

How hypocritical.

You can imagine the comments this article generated. And sure enough, in the next newsletter, he brings up the topic again, shocked that people would react negatively to his attitude.

This person takes pride in not being a ”quitter.” He’d never dream of not finishing what he started.

In the article he says: “My nature is not to quit any ride. I’ve finished one with a separated shoulder, one with a concussion, another with an ice bag on my neck to fend off heat stroke. (Don’t bother scolding, my wife is a nurse and she has covered all the bases.) I’m not a hero, just a roadie who thinks it’s important to finish what I start.”

Unbelievable.

In the long view of things, what’s the result if he doesn’t finish a ride, especially after having a separated shoulder, or suffering a concussion? Are his rides really that important that he must finish them, no matter what? Is he a professional racer making tons of money by finishing? Is he winning gold medals? Even if he was, is it really worth it? Really? Good grief — it’s just a ride!

And you have to wonder about the pride of “not being quitter” and then being afraid to take a cell phone along with you, because you just might be tempted to use it – to quit sooner than planned.

Can you say contradictory?

I always carry a cell phone when I’m riding. If I choose to use said phone to cut a ride short – even though I technically might be able to finish – if there is some doubt about my health and well-being – well, I’d rather be labeled a quitter, than be labeled dead.

And really, who’s the tougher rider? The one who is afraid he might use something he brings along, because apparently his will is too weak to fend it off, or the one who can deal with such temptations?

I may be Mr. Weak and Slow, but you can’t complete double century rides or ride in the rain for 120 miles at high elevation and not have some mental toughness. (I carried a cell phone both times — and golly gee, I still managed to finish. I could have reached for the cell phone at any point, but I didn’t.)

And I act responsibly. That cell phone could save my life. It could save others.

I don’t care if other riders choose to carry a phone. That’s not the point. But it’s ludicrous to worry that carrying one will ruin your ride by tempting you to stop sooner.

End of rant.

More hill climbs added

Finally had a chance to add a few more climbs to my Mountain Pose pages.

This time, it’s the Hills of Paradise Valley, including Desert Jewel, Desert Vista, Superstition Lane/Starlight Way, Sage Drive, and the most popular of the climbs: Hummingbird Lane.

Of these, Sage Drive and Hummingbird Lane are the most substantial of the climbs, and if you ride in the Paradise Valley area, are good to have in your hill training arsenal.

Bartlett Lake test ride


Bartlett Lake route, including extra climbs, from Paradise Valley area. Approx 7,500-8,000 ft of climbing.

February 6, 2010

With the Death Valley Double looming on the horizon (only four weeks away), I went on a test/training ride to Bartlett Lake, to see where my fitness stands.

The stats? 150 miles with somewhere over 7,500 ft of climbing, in about 13 hrs total (6:10 am to 6:59 pm.)

The verdict? The Death Valley Double is 197 miles and 9,000 ft of climbing, with a 17 hr cutoff. So I think the Death Valley ride is doable — if the weather cooperates and it’s not the wind-fest they apparently had in 2008, where lots of riders opted out of the full double.

According to the AdventureCorps website, last year, in 2009, the weather was great, with temps in the 80′s.

I’m hoping it’s that way this year.

===

It’s been a few years since I’ve ridden out to Bartlett Lake, even though in my opinion, it’s the best training route in the Phoenix area. If you need to get in some serious training, you can’t beat the rolling hills out to Bartlett Lake.

The Bartlett Lake ride starts at the turnoff from Cave Creek Rd northeast of Carefree (what’s often called the “Towers”). From my house its 32 miles to that point, and then another 14 down to the lake. Even though the lake sits in a hole, don’t be fooled into thinking it’s just an easy downhill to get there. Yes, the net elevation loss is about 1,400 ft, but there are some serious climbs (6-9% grades) along the way. And then, four miles from the lake, it’s a long drop down, a 7% grade average –which of course you need to climb to get back out.

It’s a tough ride out to Bartlett Lake. I had forgotten just how tough. This portion of the ride was a wakeup call. My average speed for the first 65 miles was a lowly 12.2 mph. Double Century my sore bottom!

I virtually crawled up the climbs, and was passed by numerous riders I had seen coming the other way, miles from the lake bottom — meaning I had several miles head start on the climb out. Said riders zoomed by me like I was standing still.

I don’t seem very strong on the hills. But endurance? Yeah, I got that.

If I rode from home straight out to the lake and back, it’s a 92 mile ride. But I upped the ante and threw in all the major climbs along the route, including the high point of the day, past the towers and on the way to Seven Springs, near the intersection of Old Mine Rd and Seven Springs Rd. This high point I like to call the “Tonto Crest,” which tops out at 3,400 feet. I was going further to where the pavement ends near Seven Springs, but I opted to cut that short and turn around at the Sears-Kay Ruins, an ancient Hohokam site.

On the way down from the Tonto Crest, a cyclist joined me, riding a classic steel-framed road bike. He noticed I was all decked out for night riding and wondered where I was headed. When I told him I was out training for the Death Valley Double, he commented, “It’s not every day I meet someone training for a double.”

I told him most of my friends thought I was crazy.

His reply?

“Don’t listen to them!”

Turns out this cyclist’s name was Todd, and had completed the Race Across America in 1990, 2,930 miles in just over ten days. He was rookie of the year.

Talk about inspiration!

After parting company with Todd, I climbed Dynamite Hill, Jomax Hill, McDowell Mtn Ranch Rd, and at the 112 mile mark, Hidden Hills (the top of Via Linda). Climbing Via Linda seemed easy in comparison to the hills of Bartlett Lake — like carving butter with a knife.

Coming down from Via Linda, I met two riders by the side of the road changing a flat. I stopped to see if they needed any help. Turns out one of the riders was from the Tri-Scottsdale group. He was helping a damsel in distress, and since they had no extra spare tubes or CO2 cartridges, I rode with them for a while in case she had further trouble.

After hearing that I had ridden 120 miles to that point, my two temporary companions seemed amazed when I was still able to climb out of the saddle and spin up to speed.

“Aren’t your legs burning?” they asked.

“They feel good,” I said, “especially now that we’re on the flats and I’m not climbing anymore. It’s sure a lot easier!”

After parting ways with these two riders I headed towards home. To make my goal of 150 miles, I still needed to get in another 25, even though home was only 6 miles away. So what to do?

Climb another hill, of course!

So at the 130 mile mark, I climbed Hummingbird Rd, a hill I often train on during the week — the same hill that a few weeks ago I had joked about climbing at the end of a 134 mile ride.

Today, I wasn’t kidding.

And today, in comparison to the tough climbs of the day, I zoomed up Hummingbird without much ado. Oh, my legs were getting tired, but I could have ridden further if needed. I toyed with the notion of doing repeats up Hummingbird, but in the end decided I’d had enough climbing for the day. (Ya think?) Instead, I did laps around the Paradise Valley area until I had 150 miles covered.

I reached home at 6:59 pm — my goal had been to make it in by 7 pm. Ha!

Since I had started just after 6 am, this meant a 13 hour ride. To match the Death Valley ride, I’d have to ride another 50 miles, and climb another 1,500 ft or so, and due to the 17 hr cutoff, I would have 4 hours to do this extra riding.

Surely I can do that — I think. Do I want to be getting in at 11 pm? Not if I can help it!

As the accomplishment of this 150 mile training day starts to sink in, I’m getting excited.

Gosh, I just may be able to pull off the Death Valley Double!

Restless body syndrome

I recently attended the first in a series of classes on yoga nidra, a deep relaxation technique otherwise known as “yogic sleep.”

Taking these classes seemed like a good idea at the time – who doesn’t need to “learn how to relax?” Ha!

While lying on our backs in savasana (corpse pose) the instructor guided us into deep meditation. The first few minutes went as expected.

And then, my nose started itching, followed by my left hand. And then my feet, my face, my arms. Soon, my whole body lit up like a christmas tree of sensations.

The guided meditation was supposed to help us explore the depths of our conciousness, almost sleeping, but with full awareness.

I guess I got the awareness down pat.

At the beginning of class, we were given specific instructions to get as comfortable as possible, and then to remain perfectly still. We were supposed to be “supremely comfortable.” Any movement would break the spell and bring us out of the deep meditation.  If perchance we started itching, we were to ignore it and let it go away on its own.

So I tried my best. I tried to stay still, to not fidget. But that just intensified the itching.

I had a strong urge to move my arms, legs, anything – so much so that at one point, I really really really wanted to get up and walk out of the room, to get away from all this stillness. I tried to ignore this urge, and focus on the guided meditation. That didn’t work. So I tried to focus on my breath. That didn’t work either. Instead of being “supremely comfortable” as per instructions, I was feeling supremely the opposite. Not wanting but needing to move, I felt trapped, almost claustrophobic.

My breathing felt constricted, my chest heavy. The thick wool blanket draped over me was not helping matters, in either the breathing or itching department. I had covered myself with the blanket because I was cold – chilled by ceiling fans blowing air across leftover sweat produced in power yoga class – a class I had just come from.

I gave in to the itching, and moved to scratch a few of the most intense spots. I tried to be quiet and not disturb others. A few more scratching attempts made me realize that no matter what I did, short of walking out of the room, I wasn’t going to be comfortable.

You see, in my natural state I’m a fidgeter – a foot wiggler. Often times, I need to have at least one foot in motion or I feel like I’m going to explode. This trait is especially pronounced during the evening hours, for some reason. It’s not uncommon for my fidgeting to peak around 8:30 pm — exactly the time I was feeling that supreme uncomfortableness.

The sensations would be with me for the rest of the class. In a round of double irony, the meditation felt on one hand like it was never going to end, but I would have said it lasted ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Ha! Try fifty minutes, according to our instructor.

Talk about a perception warp!

Instead of focusing on the meditation, I was thinking about how to describe the sensations I was experiencing, so I could mention them afterwards to the instructor. I chewed on this during and after class, but was at a loss for words.

After leaving class it dawned on me. What I was feeling was exactly like “restless leg syndrome” except my whole body was involved. (My wife has restless leg syndrome, and I get it from time to time, so I am familiar with the sensation.)

So, the best way to describe my experience is to call it restless body syndrome.

Restless leg syndrome, restless body syndrome — no wonder I enjoy ultra-cycling, going out on 100 mile bike rides, pedaling all day long.

Ha!

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.